The Green Dragon Inn - Part 4

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Welcome Back to the Green Dragon Inn!~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

We had run out of pages on the third page of the topic. But here we are again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Carry on, Shirelings! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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

[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.

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.

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

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

[piosenniel]

Please Note:

At present it is very late evening, early night in the Shire. Supper has been served, and patrons at the Inn are sitting about enjoying each other's company.

It is summer, the days are pleasant.

The Inn staff is starting to organize for the arrival of the former Innkeeper, Piosenniel and her husband and twin babies.

[piosenniel]

littlemanpoet’s post

Eodwine sat down before the hearth with a jar of nut brown ale in hand, stretched his long legs out, and sighed contentedly. So Cami's here. He smiled. Bustling about as much as ever. He would have to stop her in her tracks and catch up on news. It had been years! The fire crackled bright yellow and orange, and Eodwine watched the flames dance.

"Derufin, my friend, you go to too much trouble for one humble traveler." He brought the jar to his mouth and took a long pull, smacking his lips and audibly sighing. "I've not tasted ale this good in too long a time."

"They grow good crops here, they do." Derufin yawned. "And they know what to do with it, I'll give 'em that."

"So you hail from Gondor, I'm told." Eodwine studied the stableman's face over his ale jar. "You look my age, give or take. You were in the War, no?"

Derufin frowned and recrossed his legs. "Aye, that I was. A sorry business that turned out good, thanks to these merry folk." He forced a smile.

"Indeed! 'Tis one cause of my coming, to learn of them and befriend them. The War's my study. I'd know all I can of it. What was your part in it?"

[piosenniel]

Ealasaid’s post

"You must feel absolutely wretched wrapped up in all that drapery in this weather! I don't know how you can stand it!" Gilly blurted out at the sight of Benia's veil. "I'm sorry. It's just that it is so hot out. And... oh, never mind, I've put my foot in it again, haven't I? You'd have every right if you were unhappy with me! But tell me before banishing me, why are you veiled just now? Is something amiss?"

For a fleeting instant, Benia's amber eyes looked startled, then she began to laugh. The veil came down instantly. "I'm sorry, my cheeky friend," she said, still laughing and carefully wiping her eyes so as not smear kohl all over the place. "I was hiding from the world. It's a habit I have among strangers. The veil makes me feel safe and secure, even though it may be the farthest thing from the truth. You must find me terribly rude."

"Oh, no!" protested Gilly. "I was the rude one, calling you on the carpet like that. But, really, Benia, you do present quite an image, lurking about in the corners with your face all covered up."

"I must look quite the villainess," admitted Benia.

"Well..."

"Oh, I know. I just wasn't thinking." But suddenly, she looked pleased. "I believe you may have solved part of my mystery." Withdrawing her hand from the folds of her skirt, she handed Gilly a bunched up handkerchief. Gilly could feel the weight of something small and hard inside of it. "Have you ever seen one of these?"

As Gilly went to open the handkerchief, Benia added, "Be careful who sees it. It's an evil thing. It was slipped to me somehow in the common room last night, I think, because I look the part of a villain. I was hiding behind my veil just now and wondering why it had come to me of all people. Then you arrived and explained it for me. It's that hobbit-sense of yours, isn't it?"

Just then, another woman approached Gilly's and Benia's table from the bar. "May I join your table, kind peoples?" she asked. "For my companions have long since gone, and it is dull to sit by one's self."

Benia nodded graciously. "By all means!" She gestured to an empty chair. "We were just about to have dinner. Would you care to join us?" She knew Gilly would be discreet with the handkerchief and the stone.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin leaned back in his chair, his legs propped on the hearth. The stew had been excellent, the biscuits passable. ‘Not bad for a first try, though,’ he thought to himself. Ruby had come to collect his dishes, bringing the pitcher of ale with her. She topped his off when he held his tankard to her, then retreated to the kitchen to tidy up the dishes.

The heat of the little fire in the grate had warmed the soles of his boots, and he could feel the pleasant warmth of it on the bottoms of his feet. The single log glowed a deep orange-red at the heart of it. It popped and hissed, a single, small ember flying from it to land on the stonework near his feet. He leaned forward, flicking it back to the center of the flames.

The man from Rohan had sat down a pace from him, a jar of ale in hand. The sound of his voice pulled Derufin from a fleeting reverie as he stared at the wavering lines of heat thrown off at the fire’s core – lines of men marching, and on their faces the smiles of those who had not yet come to battle.

He pulled his eyes away, catching the words addressed to him.

‘Yes, Eodwine, you have the right of it. It’s from Gondor I hail. Near Ethring, in the Ringló Vale. His gaze shifted to the man, noting the lines etched at the corners of his eyes, the faint lines that creased his brow. ‘And yes, I do believe we are of similar age – I’m thirty-eight this year.’

‘You were in the War, no?’

Derufin frowned at this question, his eyes traveling back to the fire. Best give a short answer, and shift to something else, he thought.

"Aye, that I was. A sorry business that turned out good, thanks to these merry folk," he said, forcing a smile. ‘The War’s my study.’ He heard Eodwine say. Derufin’s brows raised at this statement. ‘A grim study of dark times,’ he thought to himself, wondering if such pursuits told of a man unscathed by shadow or belied a warrior seeking to make some sense of the horrors he had seen, the darkness that had touched him. His thoughts ran on. ‘Each to his own way,’ he murmured, thinking how he had dealt with his own memories by running from them.

‘What was your part in it?’

An innocent enough question, but one he was not ready to answer to someone he had barely met. He turned it aside, saying only that it had been a small enough part he had played. ‘Just some battles near the end, he said in a casual manner, ‘and then we went home, our duty done.’ His voice caught at the end, and he covered it with a deep breath and a drink of ale.

He put his feet on the floor, leaning forward in his seat. His tankard gripped tightly in his hands, Derufin stared intently at the bed of coals. He had wanted to shift the conversation away from this, but found he could not. He willed himself to relax as he asked his own question, speaking in a low, even voice.

‘And you, Eodwine, what part was yours?’

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

“Yes, please do join us, but I think we had better have our supper soon or go without!” Gilly said slipping the handkerchief in her pocket alongside the unopened envelope. It reminded her greatly of the small bundles she was presented with when her children were losing their teeth. “ I thought I heard that they have already run out of buttered peas and I just know those lovely biscuits will be next!”

“I have already supped, but would keep you company while you enjoy your meal. I do not mind,” said the woman taking the chair offered by Benia. “I am known as Aleia.”

“Well met Miss Aleia, I am Gilly Banks of Bywater and this is my dear old friend Miss Benia who has come to the Shire for a visit. Please make yourself comfortable, and if you will excuse me for just a minute I will go see if I can scrounge up something for us to eat or we won’t be able to hear each other over the roar of my stomach!” Gilly thus excused herself and quickly made her way to the kitchen, thinking as she went that this was the second time in as many days that she no sooner met someone than went directly off in search of food! But food is such a pleasant and comforting necessity! She thought.

As she rounded the corner to the kitchen she quite literally ran into Ruby, who carrying a dishrag had been on her way to wipe down tables. Gilly flushed red from embarrassment and apologized profusely. After some rather awkward conversation, Ruby helped supply Gilly with two plates and followed her back to the table carrying the cutlery and cups of mead. “Thank you so much for the help Ruby,” she said as she arranged the items on the table.

“Here we go,” said Gilly “Now that didn’t take long did it?”

[ June 03, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Aleia watched as Gilly ran off, and then turned to Benia. "I do hope she finds something," she said with a smile, patting her stomach. Benia grinned and said "Ah...as hobbitish as the next! So where do you hail from, Aleia?"

"Well, being a Took, I come from Tookland. I was tired of the conventional hobbit life so I became a wanderer with my pony Skeet. We've had a grand ole time wandering about, but sometimes you do get a hankering for a good ole mug of ale back in the Shire. But what about you and Gilly? Where do you two hail from?"

[Maegaladiel]

Together the three friends returned to the main hall of the Green Dragon. Nahai's legs felt wobbly as she pondered the words of her friends. Was this elf a friend or foe?

Morwyn nudged her gently in the ribs with her elbow. She gave a slight nod towards the table where the elf in question had seated himself. Swallowing hard, Nahai walked over to him, false confindence being forced into each step.

The mysterious gentlelf's face was turned away from her, staring blankly out of the window. He looked injured and travel-worn, but she reminded herself that appearances could be decieving. One hand placed on the hilt of her sword, she gathered up her courage and approached him. She cleared her throat to get his attention.

The elf turned to the noise. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, both said nothing. Morwyn and Annalalaith watched as their faces turned pale, almost as though they had seen a ghost.

"Nahai?" the elf said in wonderment. Tears formed at the corners of the Beorning's emerald eyes.

"Celecu." she whispered. He rose from the table, and in one fluid movement, they fell into each other's arms. For several long, beautiful moments, they remained like this, blind to the stares of other patrons. Finally Nahai pulled away, trying to get a look at her long lost love. He held her at arm's length, doing the same.

His face was just as she remembered. Dirtier, perhaps, and now decorated by a thin white scar on one cheek, but it was the same old Celecu that she had met years ago in Mirkwood. Her gaze swept him up and down, landing on his injured leg and tattered clothing.

"That looks terrible!" she exclaimed, not quite realizing what she was saying. He smiled, all traces of age and weariness melting from his fair elven visage.

"Nice to see you too," he commented in his musical voice. They laughed. Suddenly, Nahai remembered Morwyn and Annalalaith. They stood behind her, somewhat uncomfortably.

"Forgive me," the Beorning said, "This is my love, Celecu. Celecu, these are my dear friends, Morwyn and Annalalaith." He bowed politely to them, giving a traditional elven greeting.

"Forgive me if I seemed to stare at you earlier," he told Morwyn, "But that flute you had, it looks just like one I gave to Nahai."

Waiting for the women to reply, Celecu's hand slipped into Nahai's. They had both found what they had lost.

[Legolas'_girl]

Outside the inn, a figure, cloaked and hooded, could be seen tying its horse to a post before heading inside. As the figure walked through the door, it pulled back its hood to reveal a young Elven girl.

Her hair was long and light brown and her eyes were a soft grey. Her long, silvery-grey Lorien cloak reached down to her ankles and covered an outfit of tan and forest green.

Every aspect of her character was Elvish, except for one thing: she was not as tall or as slender as most Elves. This was because she was half-elven and her father was not a tall man. This lack of hight attracted a few puzzled stares, but she seemed to take no notice as she walked towards the bar.

Finding the innkeeper, she obtained a place for the night and went back outside to stable her horse and retrieve her light pack. Coming back into the inn, she spied the bartender and made her way to the bar. She ordered a drink and took it with her to a chair at a table by herself and listened to news and the tales of other travelers.

She became quite interested in the affairs of a few hobbits at a table next to hers and wondered greatly at what could be in the handkerchief. More out of curiousity than want of companionship, the young Elf got up and moved towards their table. In response to their questioning looks, she said in a soft voice, "My name is Melcirial, and I wonder if maybe I could join you?"

[ June 04, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Himaran]

The Inn's door slammed open, and a dwarf sauntered into the commons room. Looking about him, and finding no familier faces present, he proceeded to hang his coat on the wall, and place his hefty axe next to it. He took great care when handling the weapon, blowing the dust off of the hilt and polishing the single-headed blade on his rusty brown traveler's tunic. "Ah, so good to be back here after all these years."

Bali, for that was his name, was a young and friendly dwarf. He, unlike others of his race, had nothing against the elven folk. In fact, he had gone on many long expeditions with them, and forged deep friendships with several. After several years of travelling and war, he had returned to his favorite Inn to seek peace and rest.

Settling himself into seat at the bar, he ordered a drink and a light meal. He took a deep draft of the ale while he chatted amiably with the waiter. "Sir, tell me, is Piosenniel the Innkeeper about? Her and I are old friends."

The bar-tender smiled. "Oh, Pio? Well, she ain't the Inn-keeper anymore. A young rohanian woman's in charge now, named Aman. But if you stay for a while, you might be in luck. Pio's expected to arrive here in a few days or so."

"Good, I'll certainly be staying. Say, where is this Aman. I'd like to meet her, and anyway I need to secure a room for the night, and more perhaps."

The man looked around him before answering. "Well, she's here and there you know. Just wait around here; if I see her I'll direct you to her."

[ June 03, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Katt b]

Waen went quickly to her room,she gathered up her few belongings. Which consist of her worn leather travelling bag,bow and quiver and Kitathas' feed bag.

Waen glanced at Kit who had landed on the bed post when she entered.She looked at Waen and screeched a soft cry."I'm sorry Kit!! I have not been paying you very much attention since we arrived here.I promise we will go hunting together or We will go for a run.Would you like that?" Waen reached out her arm and the small graceful hawk glided to her forearm.

Waen stroked her feathers while whispering to her softly,her way of comforting the hawk,as she had always done when they were alone."Shall we go down to the Common room for awhile before we head outside?" Kit only cooed a little from the petting.

She strapped everything to her back,looked around the room and left,closing the door behind her.As Waen entered the Common room she saw Eodwine talking with the stable man,she had not heard his name. So she decided to get some ale and see if she could join them by the fire.

She thanked the Bartender for the ale,paid and turned to make her way to the fire Kitathas now on her shoulder.Waen approached quietly,as was her way.The men had paused in their conversation."Excuse me gentleman but may I accompany you by this lovely fire?" Waen flashed one of her shy but radiant smiles waiting for a response.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine was about to answer Derufin's question when the Elven lady Waen came to the fire, her wild hawk on her shoulder, asking if she could join them; that infectious smile came to her lips. Eodwine rose in deference to her race and gender (court manners never far away). Derufin eyed his stilted behavior with mild amusement.

"Lady. You honor us with your company. Please take a seat."

She sat near Eodwine and somewhat across from Derufin; Kit, her hawk, eyed the man from Rohan with a glare quite natural for the hawk, no doubt, but Eodwine found it just a little unnerving.

"Derufin was just asking me what I did during the War." He grinned to her, and her hawk, then to the stableman. "Please stop me the moment I begin to bore you. But not with your beak, please, he glanced at the hawk.

"I was stationed near the Isen, under Theodred, eldest son of King Theoden of Rohan. I was in the skirmish that killed Theodred and many others, but somehow I escaped harm.

"I was ordered to Helm's Deep and there I saw the one who became Elessar, King of Gondor and Arnor. And I saw the famous Dwarf and Elf in his company; and, of course, Gandalf Stormcrow; Mithrandir, as he is better known to you. I did not speak with them, but saw them from a distance. Many soldiers lost their lives in Saruman's attack on Helm'd Deep, and I took a mere scratch on my leg, but it was nothing.

"I road with King Theoden to the fields of Pelennor. Somehow I escaped all harm at that battle, and 'tis a wonder to me even today.

"Last, I traveled with King Eomer to the Gates of Morannon, and was in that final battle of the War. I was sorely wounded in the side and lying amongst the orcs I had killed, thought I would surely die, but the foe was vanquished, his armies fled, and I was healed. I am told that King Elessar came to me as I lay wounded, though I never wakened while he was near and so knew nothing of it.

"Once healed, I joined the celebration of the passing of the Dark Lord, and then went home." Eodwine's face had been intent and eager so far as he related his tale. Now he became somber. "I returned home to find that orcs and Dunlendings had sacked my home and village, and murdered my wife, my daughter, and my son." Derufin had been listening as peaceably as one may about war, sipping at his nut brown ale and staring into the fire, but at this point he turned his head, his ale forgotten, and watched Eodwine's melancholy face.

"I was not the only one. We buried our kin in a great mound and mourned their loss, then vowed to hunt down and kill every orc within thirty leagues of the Isen, west or east. We would have taken vengeance on the Dunlendings too, but there was the King's truce, so we let be. Still, we keep a guard on our lands and we do love them. Nor trust them.

"Though I lost much, I do not regret my part in the War, and in all my journeys I keep my ears open for the tales of heroic deeds that sprang from it. There are many." Eodwine was about to launch into one when he saw Derufin's cavernous yawn. "But the night is getting on and I don't want to strain your ears with all my stories."

Derufin stood suddenly. "I'm off to bed, much work to do in the morning. Good night to the both of you." He glanced at Eodwine. "Your bed's all set in the stable." He turned to Waen. "Beg pardon, lass, I know you offered your own room, but seems the Innkeeper's set on stowing the two of us together." Waen nodded and gave him her winning smile, saying it mattered not to her.

Eodwine bid Derufin good night and turned to Waen. "I am told that you come from the land of the Sorceress, and lived there during the War?"

[ June 04, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Annalaliath]

As Annalaliath looked on the happy encounter she felt glad for her friend. At the same time, however, she felt a wave of jealousy. She would never find her family or find love, that is how her life seemed. It had been the same for most of her long life. She felt the tears welling up. The feeling in her chest was a mounting pressure, that she fought to hold back.

Smiling weakly she said, "Mae Govannen." Then she sat down and burried her nose in a drawing. The ink dripping and flying as she drew fluidly, and clumsily maybe. She continued to draw furiously. She did not understand why she had been alone most of her life. Now she had friends, and she did not understand why she felt the way she had.

Bowing her head; with a sharp intake of breath, she isolated the thought. The cause of this feeling. The memory of her friend and once lover. They had fallen away and he had been married.

Feeling the jealousy and remorse, and anger swell up. She stood up, " If I may be excused I will go take a walk now." Avoiding Morwen's and Nahi's eyes she walked quickly out into the evening. Hugging herself she started to walk through the Shire. As she walked she gained speed and soon was running; running by Hobbits and others alike. When she came to an empty field she stopped and looked around . Down the road in the distance she saw the Green Dragon small and inviting. She needed her time alone from Nahi and her lover to calm down. She knew that if she hadn't left she would have exploded all over them, and spoiled the moment.

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

[Ealasaid]

"Where do you two hail from?" asked Aleia.

"My friend Gilly is from Bywater," answered Benia. "But, as for where I hail from, I would have to say the wider world. I was born in the desert and have been back many times since, but my home is wherever I happen to lay down my pack." She smiled warmly. "But a wandering hobbit! That is a rarity! How do you find the world has treated you on your travels?"

Before Aleia had a chance to respond, Gilly came bustling back from the kitchen, carrying two plates of food, closely followed by Ruby Brown with their cutlery and mead. Thanking Ruby for her assistance, Gilly arranged the supper on the table for herself and Benia. "Here we go!" she said happily. "Now that didn't take long, did it?"

"Not at all!" agreed Benia. "I find myself in your debt again. The next meal we share together, I must insist that you allow me to fetch it! I am beginning to feel like a spoiled Lady of the Court rather than just a dusty vagabond." She smiled again, a bit rogueishly this time. The firelight sparkled against the silver coins of her facial jewelry, giving her a mysterious and not altogether respectable - by hobbit standards - look. She dropped Gilly a quick wink.

"Aleia of Tookland was just about to tell us of her travels," she informed Gilly. "I was curious to know how the wide world treats a traveling hobbit."

"Oh, marvelous!" Gilly responded. "Having done so little traveling myself, I would be very interested to hear it. Please -" she addressed Aleia. "Do go on!"

Aleia, again, opened her mouth to speak, but the voice they heard next was not the voice of a hobbit. A young elflady had appeared alongside the table's one empty chair. It was she who spoke next. "My name is Melcirial," she said softly. "And I wonder if maybe I could join you?"

Ever the proper hostess, Gilly nodded pleasantly and gestured to the empty chair. "Welcome, Melcirial! Do pull up a chair. Have you eaten supper yet? We were just beginning ours, but I'm sure if we step lightly, we can procure another plate."

"Of course, we can. Do make yourself comfortable," rejoined Benia. "I am called Benia Nightshade. These good hobbits are Gilly Banks of Bywater and Aleia - Took, I presume? - of Tookland."

[lore_master]

The man named Arthas sat in a corner smoking his pipe, away from most of the other guests.

Arthas, or Orcsbane as he was caled in the army of Rohan, apeared to be around his late 30's, he had red hair with streaks of gold in it. his eyes were a greenish color, and had seen many of his comrades die in battle.
his face was stern, and had not laughed for many months.

Arthas then moved torward the group that had gathered by the front of the common room, and introduced himself "greatings, my name is Arthas, i come from Rohan, and am seek of some company, i have been alone for many weeks now, since my regiment in the army got slaughtered by some renegades. "

"barkeep, may I have an Ale here"

[Phervasaion]

Phervasaion was walking through the woods, and, as usual was making very little noise using his Ranger abilities. As he came to a opening in the woods he looked upon the Green Dragon inn, the finest Inn in the Shire as far as he was concerned.

He opened the doors to see the inn was as busy as ever with hobbits and other races enjoying their time there. He then looked to the counter and saw there was a new innkeeper.

"I havn't been here for a long time," said Phervasaion quietly. He ordered an ale and then slumped down in the nearest chair, placed his sword next to him and gulped down his ordered ale in a matter of moments. It was a long time since he had visited an inn.

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Aleia moved over to make room for the newcomer. Melcirial sat down and smiled hesitantly. Benia cleared her throat and said, "Well, Aleia was just about to tell us of her travels in the wild world. Continue, if you please."

Aleia grinned--like she often did--and began a tale. "Well, one time when I was just oustide of Rohan, it was a dark, windy, and chilly night..."

After Aleia finished her tale and her ale had been drunk, she sat back and sighed in contentment, shutting her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her comerades were looking at her with upraised brows and faces of surprise. Melcirial said softly, "Wow! That actually happened to you?"

"Well...most of it," answered Aleia. Her companions laughed and shook their heads. Aleia turned to Ruby, who was just passing by, and asked for a mug of tea. Ruby complied and in a few moments the steaming mug was brought to her. Aleia inhaled the rich scent and sighed. Looking about, she asked, "What of you, Melcirial? What is your story? Let us hear it!"

[ June 04, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Alatariel rode up to the Inn on her horse, this time was not the same white mare. 'Twas a black stallion, the darkest black you could ever see, no white spots. She rode him towards the Inn's stables. Alatariel put him in a stall, and walked towards the Inn.

Arriving inside, she walked over to the bar and ordered a glass of red wine, and then sat down again. She sat their waiting, for someone to come.

[Nerindel]

After Léspheria had finnished her evening meal, Buttercup had found her and asked her if she wouldn't mind helping out again.

"Miz Aman and Cami are tryin' to find more rooms an' Ruby is off helping Deufin with something" the flustered hobbit woman explained

"off course, it would be my pleasure" she smiled.

Buttercup sighed with relief as the elven woman rose, "here you'll be needin this" she said holding out a brown leather waitressing apron. Lespheria took the apron from Buttercup and tied it about her waist, it had two pockets on the front for carrying coins.

"There now you look the part, come, come" she urged pulling on her hand, she lead her to the bar and showed her were everything was

"All the prices are on the board, there" she said pointing to a large black board that hung on the wall behind the bar.

"Here you can start with this" she Passed Léspheria a large round wooden tray, then filled two large metal jugs, one had a nut brown frothy ale in it "The Shire's finest" buttercup told her, the other held a sweet smelling golden beverage that the hobbit had called Cider. The hobbit then placed both jugs on the tray. "on you go then" she smiled.

laughing lightly léspheria weaved in and out of the now crowded tables, lifting empty mugs and refilling any that wanted it. as time went by the coins in her apron pocket started to jingle as she walked, she had been so busy that she had bearly noticed when Ruby and Aman returned to the common room.

The evening was waning when Léspheria's sharp grey eyes spotted someone in the crowd that she recognised, she tilted her head to be sure that she was right, 'Yes, I'm sure that he is the kings messenger 'she thought trying hard to recall his name.

"Miz! Miz!" the dwarf she was serving cried as the ale she was pouring over flowed the mug and was running towards the edge of the table. "oh! I'm so sorry" she appologised mopping up the spilled ale with a cloth that she had put in her pocket earlier.

As she looked up she saw Deufin leaving the Rohirrim mans company, but he was not alone the small elven woman that her brother had spoken to the night before was with him.

Eodwine! the name suddenly came to her.
As an emissary for the lords of Rivendell, she had been to many places and meet many people. She had met Eodwine several times in the courts of both Gondor and Rohan. She remembered his unquenchable thirst for knowledge, Especially the history of the war, she had spent much time on one visit to Rohan telling him about the fall of Dol Guldor, when she and a few other elves of Rivendell had went to Lorien to aid their fellow kin, that she had nearly missed the meeting that she had been sent to attend.

'I must find time that I may speak with him again for I am sure he will have new tales to tell' she thought to herself as she finnished mopping up the spilled ale and taking the silver pennies the dwarf had given her, she then turn and walked to the next table to see if it occupants needed their drinks refreshed.

[ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Elora]

Blackveil tossed her spirited head as Vanwe lifted her hand towards the horse's now. Silvanis seemed to slightly nod at his horse's display of mettle and Vanwe dropped her hand.

"Fiesty," she commented. "I did not wish to unsettle her," she added. If this was how horses reacted to the new assistant in the stable, then Vanwe had a lot of learning to do and quickly before Derufin realised she would likely cause mayhem with his equine charges. Silent, Silvanis studied her as she let her hand fall away and Vanwe held still. He was waiting for something, she sensed. Occassionally his wary gaze would flicker over her shoulder, and the impulse to turn and see what may be approaching behind her itched between her shoulder blades.

The habit of looking over one's shoulder was a one deeply ingrained upon her, and a dead giveaway of the legitimacy of her ventures abroad. Instead, Vanwe gathered her thoughts and began as best she could with the mysterious and hopefully favourably inclined man before her.

"I should thank you, sir... twice over. Once for not mentioning the name on the paper you found in the stable before Derufin. Twice for a night in the south, where your silence kept at least part of my hide attached to my back the morning after the feast."

The memory of the beating, one of the more savage examples of community justice for an outcast, was another thing that itched her shoulderblades, in memory of the injuries that healed in the intermidible heat and sand.

"You could easily on both counts have me jailed, or worse. I do not know your name, or why you would do this... and you know many things about me... my village, my parents... My name is Vanwe, and I am endebted to you, sir."

Vanwe bowed deeply, in the only manner she knew, the manner of Far Harad. She took a step backwards, glided to her knees, bent forward until her brow touched the cooling grass and as smoothly rose again. As she straightened her lithe frame, Vanwe's thoughts leapt about. She had a debt to this man, and she was about to ask of him yet more. She still could not know if Silvanis had some connection with her village. Her mother had paid the elders handsomely at the time to take and keep from the world her infant daughter. Failure to keep such trust would be met with considerable displeasure from a woman that was considered more Demon than Elf. They would be prepared to see to Vanwe's return before Naiore discovered her daughter was abroad and not safely tucked into oblivion.

Standing and speaking with Silvanis in the evening was a considerable risk if they had sent him on her trail. Yet the very reason she had risked the journey was what kept her in place and confirming her identity. If he was not hunting her, he had what she needed and he may also have word of the south, of a village in the sands and those that may yet seek her. He had all she knew of her parents, and all that she needed to know.

Vanwe endured his silence, remaining in place and measuring him as he measured her. The merry sound of the evening that floated out from the inn seemed distant to her, not quite real, and she was cast back to that night as she stared at his face with wide blue eyes.

[Envinyatar]

The moon sat low on the eastern horizon, barely clearing the tips of the trees. Its light shone down in the stable yard, puddling among the shadows of the two tall trees that stood there. It was a warm, breezeless night, made warmer by the amount of ale he had consumed and the heat generated by the crowd in the Common Room.

Derufin walked slowly across the expanse of grass and dirt from the Inn to the stable. Someone, he noted, had gotten the horses in from the corral. He smiled, perhaps Vanwe had taken that upon herself. He could hear them shifting in their stalls as they settled in for the night.

‘Falmar nickered softly as he passed her stall. In the moonlight filtering in from the open doors, he saw her toss her head - beckoning him. ‘Come on, then, girl,’ he said softly to her, opening the half-door to her stall and leading her out. ‘Come out under the stars with me for a while.’

They walked at a comfortable pace in the pool of silvered light between the trees. Like two old friends, their heads often together, they shared an easy silence. Occasionally his hand would come up to scratch her muzzle, and she in turn would drop back a pace and nudge him gently between the shoulder blades.

A short walk brought them to the edge of the Inn yard, and they stood for a moment looking up at the stars, the man leaning against the split rails of the fence. ‘Look! The Seven Butterflies have turned toward the west,’ he said, picking out the bright form in the sky. ‘And there,’ he murmured, pointing north, ‘is her favorite, Wilwarin.’ He reached up to rub the great horse’s cheek. ‘Perhaps she is walking beneath them now as she did so often, here, and even now looks up to see the same jewels set against the darkness.’

‘Falmar neighed, as if catching the image in the man’s mind, and rose up on her back legs, pawing at the air with her hooves. She seemed to challenge the expanse of the night sky and the distance which kept her from her mistress. Her feet back on the ground, she dipped her head to him, and shook it, her mane flying wildly. He stepped back as she stamped her front hoof on the ground, and looked closely up at her.

‘Rochfalmar,’ he said calmly, his voice a soothing murmur against the night’s sounds. She quieted as he spoke to her, standing still once again before him. She was beautiful he thought, here beneath the moon and stars. Her coat shimmered like a cresting wave shot with silvered moonlight while the shadowed greys of the sea rolled beneath it.

She stepped close to him, bringing her head down close to him, her muzzle nudging his chest. He laughed, and reached up to wrap his fingers in the long hair of her mane. And with a leap, he was astride her.

They sailed over the fence in a great arc, the horse’s hooves finding purchase once again on the soft dirt of the road beyond it. Derufin leaned low over the muscled withers and let ‘Falmar have her head. Off the road and through the fields she ran, cleaving the tall summer grasses like a great ship passing through waves.

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

[Maegaladiel]

Nahai watched with suprised confusion as Annalalaith ran out of the Green Dragon. Was it something she had said? Was it Celecu?

It occured to her that she knew very little of Annalalaith's past, save that her father had named her Gift of Laughter. Had hers and Celecu's reunion opened some old emotional wound in Annalalaith's heart?

She ran outside, but the elf maid was nowhere to be found. Annalalaith must be one heck of a swift runner, she noted. Nahai hoped that the elf would return to the Dragon and not hold any ill grudges against her and Celecu.

Re-entering the Green Dragon, she sat beside her lover. She had many questions for him.

"Where have you been all theses years?" she demanded, sounding angrier than she meant to. He looked up at her, remorse in his eyes.

"It is a long story," Celecu said wearily. "But I shall tell it. When I left you to defend the forest, our company was taken by suprise by a gang of orcs. We made short work of them, but little did we realize that they were but a mere distraction. While we were busy fighting this small opposition, a second group of larger yrch moved in on us from behind. Outnumbered and unprepared for such an attack, we were driven back. My company was small; we were meant as scouts to spy upon the enemy, not fight in combat like that." He shifted uncomfortably, remembering the times.

"Many of my people were murdered in that battle," he continued. "No one remained unscathed." His hand went to the scar on his cheekbone. "The blade that dealt me this small wound was laced with poison. The same wicked instrument also peirced my shoulder. Many others recieved worse wounds, but we fought on.

"Finally, we managed to push the bloodthirsty creatures back into the hills as the sun rose. But all was not well. The poison had already begun to take affect on the afflicted.

"The healer of Mirkwood could do little to stop the poison, but could delay its affects. He said that a healer in the Gray Havens could save us, and so we were sent across the sea. I was unconcious, so I had little say in the matter." he added, looking at Nahai's expression.

"Shall I continue?"

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman glanced around the common room quickly as she came to the foot of the stairs. Buttercup saw her, and put up her hand to signal to her, opening her mouth, but Aman shook her head, a well acted regretful expression on her face, and pointed to the kitchen. Cook, she mouthed. Not waiting for Buttercup's reply, she headed into the kitchen.

"You wanted to see me, Mrs Bunce?"

Cook turned, hand on heart and a ladle in her other hand. "Ooooh, Miss Aman, you did make me jump there!" She breathed. Aman smiled apologetically, and was glad to see the cook return the smile. She seemed in a very good mood. She hummed as she bustled about, then snapped her fingers, as if just remembering something, trying to make out she hadnt been eagerly awaiting the moment. Aman waited expectantly, then, as was expected, she asked the question dutifully. "You wanted to see me, Cook?"

Cook leapt on this. "Yes, yes indeed, Miss Aman." She smiled widely, then Buttercup burst in, also smiling.

"Have you told her yet?" She asked breathlessly.

Cook frowned severely. "Well, I was going to tell her, when you burst in like that-"

"Tell me what?" Aman couldn't help cutting in, a little exasperated. Both hobbits turned to look at her, surprised.

"You mean you don't know?"
"Didn't she send to you as well?"

Aman simply didnt say anything, waiting expectantly once more. Buttercup burst out first. "Shes coming back, Miz Aman! She's coming back with the young'uns and all, and her Lord, and we haven't long, she'll want everything perfect, even more so than it was when she left and-"

"Pio is coming back?" Aman was slightly incredulous, but couldn't help grinning. Pio was coming back. "When?"

Buttercup hesitated and stopped, looking at Vinca. The cook rolled her eyes, then turned to Aman. "She's coming here," She pronounced. "in about two weeks."

Aman's jaw dropped. She opened her mouth, thinking to start a sentence, but finally all that came out was a small, worried, 'hmmm'. Cook nodded. "I thought you might say that." Aman looked sharply at Cook, suspecting that that was not complimentary, but Cook pressed on in her businesslike fashion. "I'm surprised she didn't tell you. Was that letter not from her? Or maybe she sent a letter, then it got lost in the post, and- oh ho, whats that then?"

Aman had pulled the now crumpled letter from her pocket, and inspected the familiar writing on the front, before slitting it open with her thumb with ease. She scanned it, then lowered it and smiled sheepishly at Cook. "I...she...well, she did tell me. Sorry Cook."

Cook raised an eyebrow, then rolled her eyes, sighing exaggeratedly, but good naturedly. "Oh, Miz Aman, what are you like?! Well, as you may have guessed, that is another reason why Cami is on a campaign to get the attic sorted. You have looked, I presume?"

Aman winced and nodded grimly. "Yes we...well, explored might be a better word."

Cook laughed. "Well, we shall talk later on about all of this. Currently, there are more customers who need attention. I believe some of them may need rooms, and a few will be checking ou even, hopefully at least."

The still slightly sheepish Innkeeper nodded. "Yes, Cook. Later, then."

Turning, she left the kitchen and into the Common Room, subconciously assuming as she did so the air of confidence which Pio had possessed before her and which now slipped on easily.

[lore_master]

"It seems that I shall enjoy my stay here in the Shire, if all the Hobbits are as friendly and open as you good peoples that i have met this evening" said Arthas.

"I thank you for your hospitaltiy to me this evening. Now comes my story"

"I was born under the rule of Theoden King, as most of you have guessed by my apperance, I am 36 years old. I fought in the War of the Ring beside Eomer king, and King Elessar......"

After he was finished there was silence as the guests soaked all it in.

"well then, now you me. barkeep may i have another ale here, make it two i'll be here awhile."

[ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: lore_master ]

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Aleia turned and motioned to Ruby. “ Would you kindly bring me some tea?” she asked. Ruby assented with a nod while wiping off the table. After gathering the empty dishes, she quickly hurried to the kitchen and returned with a richly perfumed and steaming mug. The scent of which wafted across to Gilly.

Aleia sighed and looked around the table eyes alighting on Melcirial . “What of you, Melcirial? What is your story? Let us hear it!”

Overflowing with guests, the staff was scurrying to find accommodations for all. Buttercup was smiling as she and Aman crossed the common room’s floor unceasingly. An occasional muffled thud was heard overhead, barely audible above the din of the patrons. But the company around the table was relaxed and amiable. After such hardy fare and pleasant conversation, Gilly felt herself growing roots to her chair, her mind wandering randomly.

It will be hard to take my leave tonight, Gilly mused.

Reaching into her pocket she reassured herself that the handkerchief was still there, as was the envelope. The envelope! She had forgotten entirely about it. She pulled it out and examined the writing, squinting in the dim light. Carl’s scrawl, she thought before placing it back in her pocket unopened. Now why would Carl have sent me a letter when I just saw him this morning? I will have to read it when I have spare moment.” she concluded staring across the room at the hearth and settling deeper into her thoughts.

[littlemanpoet]

The lady Waen acknowledged that she had been in Lorien during the War, then lapsed into silence, her eyes flicking between himself, the fire, and her hawk. She seemed so young! But Eodwine knew that she could be centuries old. He wondered if it was bad manners to ask an Elf, especially a female Elf, how far back her history went. What a gold mine of knowledge! But she had not spoken much of herself, and he did not wish to presume too much. He signaled to the waitress for a refill.

"Good even to you, Eodwine," said the waitress as she filled his jar. The voice was familiar. He looked up. A lady Elf was smiling at him as she poured. His brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to muddle out the waitress apron and the Elven face above it; his brow flew up all of a sudden.

"I know you! The Lady Lespheria!" He rose from his seat and bowed, almost knocking her tray over. "Pardon!"

She laughed. "You have not changed, Eodwine of Rohan."

"I did not expect to see a Lady of the Elves dressed up as a waitress at the Green Dragon Inn in the Shire! Least of all an emissary of Rivendell!"

She laughed again. "I've been pressed into service-"

"Willingly enough, it would appear," Eodwine cut in.

She nodded enthusiastically. "-as the help is busy with many things."

"As soon as your duties are complete, please sit with us. Do you know Lady Waen?"

Lespheria glanced down with a smile and opened her mouth to speak when a voice called loudly, "Barkeep may I have another ale here? Make it two! I'll be here awhile."

"Sorry. Duty calls. I will come by later." She hurried off to fill another jar. Eodwine sat back down, shaking his head in wonder.

"You never know what comings and goings may happen, War over." He drank a few gulps from his brew and patted the satchel leaning against his chair. "You may yet be needed, my friend."

The Lady Waen spoke up. "What do you keep there?"

"Oh, just a humble harp I must have with me wherever I go."

Her eyes lit up. "You are a harpist, then? A singer?"

"I sing a bit and play a little in my own crude manner. I'm sure you've heard better."

"Play for me!" That winning smile came to lady Waen's face, and her eyes shone with anticipation.

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Alatariel finished her wine, as she watched the people. She searched over them, and then she noticed that the elf maiden she had saw the other day was gone. She got up off the chair and walked out the door of the Inn. She made her way around the side of the Inn to the stables.
Over at the black stallion's stables, the moonlight poured in onto his dark, glossy coat. Alatariel calmed him, stroking his mane. 'Tis okay, your fine. 'Tis safe here, Alatariel calmed him, but it did not work, there was something he did not like here... or someone...
The horse eventually calmed down, Alatariel puzzled at what was wrong. She left him there and continued back into the Inn.

She walked over to the bar and ordered supper. The cook gave her her food, and she went over to the same table in the corner and began to eat.

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: Alatariel Telemnar ]

[piosenniel]

All posters note:

It is still night at the Inn - a pleasant, warm midsummer night.

Supper is done.

People are sitting about talking in the Common Room and sipping their beverages.

[Nerindel]

As Léspheria finnished pouring a hobbit womans beverage, she saw Eodwine raising his jar, signaling for it to be refilled. He didn't look from his companion as she approached.

"Good even to you, Eodwine," she smiled filling his jar. Her smile widened as he looked from her apron to her fair Elven face, trying to put a name to it.

"I know you! The Lady Lespheria!" he cried in recognition. He rose from his seat and bowing he almost knocked the tray from her hands.

"Pardon!" he quickly apologised.

"You have not changed, Eodwine of Rohan." she laughed.

"I did not expect to see a Lady of the Elves dressed up as a waitress at the Green Dragon Inn in the Shire! Least of all an emissary of Rivendell!" he explained.

She laughed again. "I've been pressed into service-"

"Willingly enough, it would appear," Eodwine cut in.

She nodded enthusiastically. "-as the help is busy with many things."

"As soon as your duties are complete, please sit with us. Do you know Lady Waen?" Eodwine asked her.

She was just about to say that she had not yet had the pleasure, although she believed that the young elf had spoken with her twin brother the night before. When a voice called loudly, "Barkeep may I have another ale here? Make it two! I'll be here awhile."


"Sorry. Duty calls. I will come by later." she promised as she hurried of to fill another jar.

As she looked about for the caller she saw the red headed man raise his hand to beackoning her over. Still smiling she hurried over to fill his jar, then taking another from the tray she was carrying she filled it and set it on the table beside the other.

As he fumbled in his pouch looking for the correct coinage, his cloak fell back over his shoulder revealing the insignia on his tunic, A Majestic white horse on a green field. Léspheria's grey eyes widened in mild suprise, This man was also from Rohan and a soldier no less she realised as she took in the rest of his garb.

As much as she wished to return to Eodwine's company as soon as possible, her curiousity got the better of her.

"So what brings a soldier of Rohan to the Shire this fine night?" she asked as the man dropped the correct coinage into her open hand. she slipped the coins into the pocket of her apron and waited patiently for the man to reply.

[ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Cerulean Fire]

A young woman enters the inn and looks around for a moment. Patrons are seated at tables, some at the bar, others clustered in small to medium sized groups. Taking a deep breath, she walks over to the bar and orders a light meal.

Taking her plate, she walks carefully toward a relatively empty table. "Might I perhaps join you here?" she asks the group sitting there.

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Morwyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Annalaliath ran out of the room. She understood why Annalaliath was uncomfortable with Nahai and Celecu's warm reunion. She was a little uncomfortable too, like an outsider, peeping in through the window of someone else's home. Nahai, concerned, followed Annalaliath out. During the short time she was gone Morwyn and Celecu exchanged glances.

"I'm sorry." she said softly, "I trust you now." The elf smiled at her as Nahai returned and took her place beside him.

As Celecu began to tell his story, Morwyn's discomfort returned. His story was fascinating, yet she felt it should be for Nahai's ears alone. She tried to look unobtrusive, pushing herself back into her chair as though she'd vanish into it.

As Celecu came to a break in his tale, Morwyn cleared her throat. Nahai looked up startled. Morwyn thought she must have forgotten her presence entirely. The woman of Rohan stood up, twisting a bit of her skirt between her fingers. "I'm just going to go out and see if Annalalaith's alright..." she said hesitantly.

Nahai looked confused. "Alright." she said, "but if you need anything," she broke off.

Morwyn laughed. "What would I need? This is the Shire!" Nahai grinned, realizing she sounded rather silly. "Just enjoy being together, you deserve it." Morwyn said to her friend, laying one hand on Nahai's arm. Nahai nodded slowly, a smile lighting up her face as she held Celecu's hand tightly.

Morwyn walked slowly outside, the breeze was warm and softly scented. She walked out a few steps from the inn's door and called softly, "Annalaliath?!" There was no answer, except for the soft hum of the flies in the stable. "It's Morwyn... Anna are you okay?" she called again. Morwyn walked slowly out to the dusty path, looking around curiously for her friend.

[Annalaliath]

Annalaliath sat in the field that she had stopped at. She looked up at the stars. Sighing she began to think again. The lights in the green dragon and the surrounding buildings. She breathed in the scented warm air. She let her thoughts wonder, thinking on everything and nothing at once. In the silence she heard the long ago voices on the wind, ridiculing, wounding, killing. In them she knew was her own heart aching just to be held, just for the kind beautiful words, and love. "What is love?" she thought, " Does it even matter." Then she heard the slight friendly voice on the wind. It was Morwyn. She released the breath slowly.

She looked back towards the inn. She saw Morwyn looking around, framed by the light pouring from inside the Inn. She pushed herself up off the ground and walked back towards the light and noise of the inn.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

"Might I perhaps join you here?"

Niniel surveyed the newcomer and nearly smiled. This reminded her of herself. A little lost and not knowing quite how to proceed. And of course, Soronume-the-ever-polite nodded in answer to her question. It was to be expected, but just now, Niniel didn't really want another stranger to deal with. Four in one day was quite enough, thank you.

"My'lady. These are the lady Niniel, the lady Elwen, and Dorelnar," he said, gesturing to each one. Niniel had no choice but to nod graciously to the young woman.

"Here now, Master Soronume! Ye forgot me!"

"No one could forget you, Mardath," was Soronume's weary response.

"Well, Soronume, ye did. I'd hae thought that ye'd be kind enow t'remember m'name, after bein' so almighty fired up 'bout me not knowin' yours." The black bearded man looked the elf directly in the eyes, and chuckled. He knew by now that he was not the most well-liked person at the table, and that suited him fine. If the fellow didn't like him, well, that was Soronume's problem. None of Mardath's.

Niniel grimaced. Did Mardath have to bring that up? It was over with, as was most of her embarrassment at his bluntness earlier. She was more comfortable now, though every now and then, she'd glance at Soronume and blush. She couldn't help it. He was the first elf that she could remember meeting, not that that was saying much, and he was just so...so...so Elven. She couldn't help herself. Not that she would if she could, anyway.

"So, where do you come from, Miss...?" she asked. Anything to change the subject.

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[Theoric Windcaller]

Theoric made a brief halt, the sun graciously descended behind him about an hour ago, his axe strapped to his back, weighing him down. The stars glittered in the summer-sky like bright jewels, reminding him of the stories he once heard about the Mines of Moria.

Up ahead, the sound of laughter, of merry tales and music was heard. He stood in the middle of a quiet town full of Halflings, young and old, most of them going into a sort of inn where all the laughter and merriment seemed to originate.

Theoric, being the weary Dwarf he always was, thought it to be good to sit down and have a drink, maybe converse with a Hobbit or two, or maybe even find a fellow Dwarf sitting down in the inn, he was quite thirsty after all.

His pace quickened, the dust of the small road leading to the inn gliding with the wind into the Dwarf's eyes. How he came to be in the Shire of all places was a long story, maybe he could tell someone his long tale when he came to the inn.

The big round door to the inn drew nigh. He anxious awaited the taste of sweet mead upon his dried lips. He also awaited the laughter of a friend and the excitement of hearing tales of adventure, and that was exactly what he was to find when he stepped into the Green Dragon. The other inns he stumbled upon were full of quiet folk, strange ones; Rangers perhaps and cloaked strangers coming in, saying nothing, ordering a drink and then leaving.

Not that Hobbits were loud, rowdy folk but, from the sound of it, this inn was the place to be tonight. Theoric gazed upon the door with wear eyes. It was round and green with a small golden brass doorknob in the middle.

Theoric had seen many of these kind of doors passing through the Shire. Hobbits, he thought to himself, the strangest of beings. But, he enjoyed something different. He didn't like the normal life, he loved twists and turns, he even liked dangerous suicide quests once in a while. But he was a Dwarf, how else was a Dwarf to act? He didn't even know if he was like all the rest of children he grew up with. He just knew one thing was for certain: he was going to sit down have some mead in front of a nice fire and nothing in the wide world of Middle-Earth was going to stop him.

As he drew up to the door, he opened it and walked in, getting strange looks from the crowd of Hobbits in the corner. He didn't mind much because he was used to the strange looks he was given traveling through other parts of the Shire.

He saw a roaring fire in the back and an empty chair in front of it, like it was all put out, specifically for him. As he closed the door, the cold of outside left him and he became engulfed with pipe-smoke and a warm feeling and merriment here.

As he drew closer to the chair, he saw from the corner of his eyes a Hobbit standing up. The Hobbit, taking no notice of the weary Dwarf came to the chair in front of the fire and sat himself down. Theoric, stopped with a surprised look on his face.

Fine then, he thought, I'll sit at the bar

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: Theoric Windcaller ]

[Ealasaid]

"What of you, Melcirial?" Aleia asked the young elflady. "What is your story? Let us hear it!" But the hobbit's promptings seemed to fall on deaf ears, as though the elf had vanished altogether into some distant inner space. Her eyes had a faraway look to them as though she was wandering around somewhere in the dreamtime.

How Elven of her! thought Benia. Looking around the table, she saw that her other companions seemed relaxed and happy: Aleia with her tea, and Gilly sinking lower and lower into her armchair. Benia smiled to herself. She felt happy and comfortable, too, for a change. She spent altogether too much time hiking rainsoaked across empty meadows or hiding in hedgerows, waiting fearfully for suspicious bands of cloaked men to gallop past and leave her in peace. In fact, she felt almost festive, in spite of her earlier worries about the red stone and the large number of Rohirrim descending on the inn. She reached into her skirt pocket and took out a small cloth pouch.

"Let's have a song!" she said merrily. She opened the little pouch and took out two pairs of small brass cymbals, which she attached loosely to the thumbs and middle fingers of her tattooed hands. Keeping a steady ting-ting-tek-a-tek-ting-tek-a-tek beat going with the cymbals, she began to sing. Her voice was low and sweet, and even though the words were in her mother's desert dialect, all who heard her were suddenly struck with visions of a bright sun and blowing sand dunes, oasis palm trees, and wide open grasslands. When she finished th elast verse, she lowered the little cymbals and smiled around the table. The elflady was still in her own world, but Aleia was watching her with bright-eyed interest, clearly curious about the little cymbals. Gilly, on the other hand, seemed to have dropped off to sleep, holding her still unopened letter loosely in her lap.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman looked up to the sound of the strange and outlandish song. Benia's voice was beautiful, and hearing it was somehow like being in a desert, or having the sun softly warming your face.

As it ended for a moment, the Inn seemed frozen as all were quiet, basking in the silence that comes after every good performance when all take a moment to just revel in what they have just witnessed. Aman sighed, breaking the spell, and looked out the window to see that it was already dark. It seemed such a strange contrast to the warm song from Far Harad, that Aman couldn't help staring, although the skies were clear and the stars shone crisply. She began to collect glasses, going to the table where Benia sat first.

"That was beautiful." She murmered as she passed. The woman looked up, surprised and gratified, and smiled in acknowledgement.

As Aman went back to the bar, she nodded to a newcomer, a dwarf with a mildly put out expression on his face, and a large battleaxe on his back. The dwarf looked up, surprised, but also apparently relieved. Aman smiled inquiringly, but he didnt reply as to his relief, but instead cleared his throat and asked for a drink.

"An ale please...?" He stopped, unsure how to address her.

"My name is Aman. I'm the Innkeeper here." Aman began to clean out the glasses and put them away.

The dwarf didn't hide his surprise. "You are the Innkeeper? But...but this is the Shire."

Aman smiled, it wasn't the first time she had been asked. "The old Innkeeper, Piosenniel, left when she had her twins. I am an old friend of hers."

"Piosenniel...that, erm, that doesn't sound like a hobbit name...?" The dwarf had a small smile hovering around his lips, but also seemed a little nervous, and suddenly Aman felt even more concious of his axe. Aman laughed. "No, she was an elf."

A frown from the dwarf. The battleaxe suddenly looked even more obvious, and Aman wondered whether there was a polite way she could remove it from him. Ah well, lets just go straight for it. She smiled charmingly, smoothly changing the subject. "Will you be staying? If so, are you intending to take off your cloak?"

The dwarf smiled sheepishly. "Oh, oh yes..." He did remove his cloak, but as he took it off, he kept hold of his axe. Bother. Hey, just dive in then... "Would you mind if I took that? We have a policy of no weapons. There are storage units at the door."

The dwarf gripped his axe slightly harder and looked around quickly, scanning the room for an exception to this rule.

"Really, weapons are not allowed." Aman tried not to feel guilty as he hip brushed the sword under the bar and she pushed it in slightly further under. "Please....?"

The dwarf shook his head. "Yes...yes, I suppose so. My name is Theoric, by the way."

They talked for a while, then Aman excused herself, seeing Cami enter. Cook opened the kitchen door, releasing wafts of tasty smelling air, and searched with her eyes for Aman. The Innkeeper nodded, and inclined her head towards the kitchen at Cami. As they entered, Aman breathed in deeply, letting the smells of supper fill her nose, and she realised she still hadn't eaten. Cook seemed to guess and in her matrobly way, placed a deep plate of stew in her hands.

"Come on, Miss Aman, you can eat while we talk. Can't have you skipping meals." Cook tutted.

Aman smiled as she fished in a drawer for a fork. "Would I miss one of your meals, Cook?"

Cook smiled, gratified at this, and took a seat by the stove, warming her hands. Buttercup came in, unsuspecting- she hadn't worked here for as long as Ruby, and therefore didn't know of the washing up which any unsuspecting hobbit could be pulled into, and Cook immediately did pull the little waitress into washing up. Cami also took the other seat by the stove, while Aman contented herself with leaning on the side of the table, stew in hands.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami stood up and faced Aman. A grin of triumph played across her face. "Finally, I have you trapped. Now I know it only takes a good bowl of stew to stop you in your tracks, so I can finally talk to you."

"Have you had a chance to look upstairs in the attic again? I know the attic needs a great deal of work to turn it into something comfortable and decent. But I'm convinced it's the best way we have of relieving the crowding in the Inn. It's getting to the point where I almost hope our guests will decide to camp out in the woods, or push on through to Frogmorton."

When Aman smiled slightly and began to chuckle, Cami stamped her foot.

"You're laughing? This is serious. I have no chambers left tonight. If that new Dwarf that came in..... Now, what's his name? Oh, yes, Theoric. If that new Dwarf requests a bed, I will have to ask him to share a room with two of the younger male Elves who arrived this afternoon. And you can just imagine how well that will go! We'll be lucky to have a moment's peace."

"It will be too dark and dingy to go up there in the evening. But maybe tomorrow you could have another look and tell me what you think."

With that, there was an interruption, as ax excited Ruby ran over to where Cami was sitting. "Miz Cami, come now, please. And be quick. Those two gentlemen from Minas Tirith that you asked to bunk together have gotten into a little spat. They both want different rooms."

Cami rolled her eyes upwards, and made a face, glancing back pointedly at Aman. Then, she stood up and hurried out to the corridor to speak with the men. Even as she approached, she could hear the men's voices rising, as they griped at each other and argued about which of them should leave to find different accomodations.

[Theoric Windcaller]

Theoric seemed surprise. The inn was not full of only Hobbits, but Elves were seen among the crowd as well.

This boded well for the tired Dwarf, more adventurous kind to talk to. After having his seat taken by the Hobbit, he trudged over to the bar and sat down, his boots trailing in mud from the fields of the Shire. The bar was just his size, not to large like the other inns he had stopped by in his journey here, but, the Hobbits were small folk, and the Dwarf didn’t regret his decision to come here.

His brown curly beard waved as his hazel eyes darted from corner to corner, investigating the room.

"What will you have tonight, Dwarf?"

A small, feminine came from behind the bar. A maiden she was. From Rohan, Theoric thought, as he stared deep into her eyes.

He had spent a good deal of his time on his journeys in Rohan with his brother and companion, and because of that, he was able to decipher where she was from. “Ah, thank M’lady. I’ll have a pint of mead, if its not too much trouble,” replied the Dwarf, sinking in his seat at the bartender’s beauty.

“Aye, you’ll have it in a minute," scuttling off to accomodate the Dwarf.

Theoric chuckled. “From Rohan,” he laughed, “I knew it!” Theoric waited for a moment and soon, a pint of mead was put before him. The bartender darted off before he could ask her for her name, much less say, “Thank you.”

Theoric grabbed the mug’s handle and brought the rim to his dried lips. As soon as the mead touched his lips, flowed down his throat and into his stomach, he was relaxed. He sighed as his weariness fluttered away like a group of crows in a forest.

As he brought his mug down, he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a familiar face, un-hooded and a smile upon his face. “Brother!” he shouted as he recognized his hazel eyes. He jumped from his seat and wrapped his arms around his brother.

“Hail, Theoric. It has been long, I almost forget what ye looked like!” chuckled the Dwarf brother, returning the hug to Theoric.

Theoric looked surprise. It had been five years since they last saw each other. It was a mid-summer’s eve, the sun slowly descended behind the mountains and the brigade of Dwarf adventurers wanted to press on further towards the Misty Mountains.

It was then that a great storm broke the brigade apart later that night, and the brothers never saw each other until this night. The brothers were the only survivors out of the brigade, and the brigade was made up mostly and the Dwarf brothers’ companions. A tragedy it was.

Theoric slowly reflected back on that night in the Misty Mountains where the storm tore the two brothers apart. “I thought you were dead with the rest of our brigade,” said Theoric. “Nay, I knew you were alive. Our family has always been strong, I knew our companions died, but for some reason I knew you were alive,” replied the Dwarf brother.

“How did you find me, how did the rest of the brigade die, Tallon?” asked Theoric.

Tallon Windcaller, that was the brother’s name. He was a good older brother, much like Theoric, but headstrong. Yes, he was stubborn, but still very friendly, like Theoric.

“Well, the rest of the brigade didn’t die. I was wrong. There was one survivor,” replied Tallon, anxious to show Theoric his surprise. Tallon stepped aside to reveal another Dwarf standing behind him. “Hail, friend of old!” shouted Baylin.

Baylin was a companion of the Windcaller brothers for the longest time. He was a smart one; he always knew what road to take and how to win the fight. The Windcaller brothers both were surprised that he was not a lord in the Dwarven army.

“Baylin! I thought you had died!” Theoric darted and hugged the old Dwarf. Baylin, with his scraggly, long white beard and his dark walnut-brown eyes accepted Theoric’s hug with a smile. “I assure you, I have not. For I stand before you here. I knew you would be here; the Shire is one of the few places we haven’t explored. It was just a matter of when you would be here. My estimations were correct, as you can plainly see,” chuckled the intelligent Dwarf.

Tallon walked to the bar and ordered two pints of ale. Tallon’s brother and companion joined him. Theoric told the two of his adventure coming here, and they told him of their adventures since the night five years ago when they lost each other.

Theoric was overjoyed at this newfound mercy. He knew that his adventures would be better now, better than ever.

“A merry place this is,” said Tallon, slowly studying the crowd of Elves, Men and Hobbits.

Theoric chuckled and replied, “Aye, this mead is wonderful.”

There was short silence soon after that between the three Dwarves. Theoric knew there was something on the other Dwarves’ minds, and he wanted to find out.

“Tallon, what’s going on?” asked Theoric, eagerly awaiting an answer.

He knew not what to expect, but he knew that whether the news was ill or good, he wanted to know what it is. Ever since he was a young Dwarf-lad, he hated being kept out of secrets, and to this day, he would go to desperate measures to find out what was being held from him.

“Theoric, look at this.” Baylin took a folded piece of parchment from his cloak’s pocket and slid it around the wooden bar to Theoric. He studied the inanimate object for quite sometime before unfolding it. He looked at the two Dwarves. Tallon motioned him to look at it. Tallon took another sip of his ale.

Theoric looked nervous, maybe he didn’t want to find this secret out after all.

Theoric slowly unfolded the paper. He seemed relieved when he recognized what it was. “A map? Are you thinking about another adventure?” “Nay, not another adventure. An Elven friend gave this to us to give to you. It might be someone you knew from one of your adventures,” replied Baylin.

Theoric didn’t recognize the map at all; it was a land he had never seen before. “Look, we have to take leave. We will take the map if you don’t want it—.” “Nay, I’ll keep it,” said Theoric. “I’ve never heard of any of these places, so this map is nothing to me,” the Dwarf added.

He walked to the fireplace and tossed it in the fire. The embers flew up into the air. “Enough of that. Foolish to waist time with things I don’t understand,” said the Dwarf.

Baylin thought differently, but then he remembered one of the many sayings he went by: “A person’s choice is their choice to make.” It was Theoric’s choice to burn this mystery map.

“Alright, dear friend, your brother and I have business to attend to in Rohan, we will see ye another day,” smiled Baylin. “Aye, we must take leave. Goodbye, dear brother. I have a feeling we will see each other again,” he said with an accent.

“Goodbye,” Theoric said as he sipped his mead and watched them disappear into the darkness of the night.

[ June 07, 2003: Message edited by: Theoric Windcaller ]

[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.

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.

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

At present it is still night in the Shire - a warm, summer's night, to be exact.

[Cerulean Fire]

"So, where do you come from, Miss...?" she asked. Anything to change the subject.

"My name is Chrestienne," the young newcomer said. She eased down into a vacant chair. "I am from near Pinnath Gelin." She looked about the mixed group a little nervously. So many new people at once frightened her, but after so long on the road, company seemed like quite a good idea.

Niniel was speaking to her again. Chrestienne pulled her eyes off of Mardath--he seemed so oblivious to the discomfort he caused--and refocused on Niniel, smiling shyly. "I'm very sorry, I didn't catch that last part."

[Theoric Windcaller]

The Dwarf finally finished his mead. Two men stood at the bar, talking to the beautiful maiden innkeeper. The two were Gondorian from the looks of it, thought Theoric.

"Urrgh, Elves," Theoric mumbled. The fire had calmed and the pint of mead was gone when he looked down at it again, taken by the innkeeper.

Theoric began talking to himself. "Should I stay another night here?" "Maybe I should make conversation with a Hobbit." At that moment, he felt a sudden tap on the back of his head, like the one on his shoulder only twenty minutes earlier.

He turned and expected to see his brother and Baylin, but he saw only a Hobbit, wrapped in a hooded cloack like Theoric's and hooded, his face shadowed.

In a dark, sinister voice the Hobbit spoke to Theoric. "Have you any gold for a poor Hobbit?" asked the cloaked Halfling, staring into the Dwarf's hazel eyes.

"Aye, Halfling," said Theoric. "Come and sit with me a while."

The Halfling nodded and sat down on the chair next to the Dwarf. "A wanderer?" asked the Dwarf. The Hobbit gave no reply. "Well, you seem to be in a cheery mood," the Dwarf chuckled sarcastically.

The Halfling still said nothing. The Dwarf turned to the bar as he saw another pint of mead set before him. Songs erupted from a table near the door. "Maybe I was wrong about this place," the Dwarf mumbled. "I will stay a night or two, as long as I don't have to share a room with an Elf," the Dwarf grunted and went straight to his pint.

[Gorothlammothiel]

"I didn't catch that last part..."

Mardath broke in at this point, "Ah, now that would be 'cause the lady here don't speak loudly, she a shy maiden" Soronume cotinued before Mardath could add another sentance to his speech, "The lady Niniel" Soronume glanced over at Mardath as he continued, "had asked how it was that you came by the inn."

Chrestienne seemed a little phased by this, reminding Soronume slightly of Niniel when she first spoke to him. "It is no bother my'lady, do not let us trouble you with a question that can wait for an answer when you have a meal in front of you." She smiled and took another bite. Niniel too seemed pleased by Soronume's latest remarks. She looked onto him and smiled then caught his glance and blushed. Soronume smiled back.

Elwen and Dorelnar who had been silent at the table for some time now introduced themsleves properly to Chrestienne, though letting her eat all the while. Elwen played with the strands of her hair about her face. Soronume looked upon her and noticed how she had changed since he was last in the inn.

Mardath put his empty cup down with some force on the table top, causing Chrestienne to jump a little. "Sorry bout'that lady" he apologised to her with a chuckle and she smiled akwardly back at him. "Well, Mardath, you are obviously in need of another drink, no?" Soronume asked with a sigh. "Aye, t'would be nice of ye to offer, Soronume." He noted the use of his actual name this time and picked up his cup. "My'lady" he asked Chrestienne, "you've had a meal with no drink for company? Would you like something?" she nodded in reply. Elwen and Dorelnar both also nodded and Soronume stood pushing his chair away from the table. "Niniel, would you care to accompany me to the bar?" She smiled and stood. As they made thier way to the bar Mardath continued to chuckle at what he saw as an odd couple...

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

"That was wonderful!" exclaimed Aleia after Benia finished her song. The common room was suddenly filled with applause as everyone clapped their hands for Benia. She blushed and said "You're welcome. I had a feeling that we all needed a song."

"Yes, we did. Thank you for that, it was beautiful," said Aleia. Gilly, who had been woken up by the applause, nodded and smiled blearily. As Aleia sipped her mug of tea, she surveyed the room and saw that it was full of people enjoying their drinks, some in front of the fire and some at tables. She yawned a little and asked,"So where do you think your travels will take you next, Benia?"

[Theoric Windcaller]

The Hobbit sat still, like an apprehensive statue, glaring the crowd of Hobbits as they cheered, laughed, drunk and sang.

Theoric was extremely uncomfortable. He turned to the Hobbit. "Look, I have no money for beggars," said the Dwarf, as politely as a Dwarf could say it.

The Hobbit turned to him. "You are a pathetic Dwarf," the Hobbit rudely boasted. The Dwarf slammed his mug down on the bar with anger. His eyes were fiery, his hands seemed to yearn for his axe.

"What did you say?!" Fire was in his voice.

Never make a Dwarf angry. "I said that you are pathetic, you dirty pig," replied the beggar.

Theoric reached for his axe, but there was a problem, it wasn't on his back. It was across the room, in the weapons storage.

"Urrgh, curse the no weapons policy in this inn!" he shouted. "I'll kill you with my hands," said the Dwarf and he wrapped his enormous fist around the beggars small neck and lifted him off of the ground.

The Dwarf then felt the sharp point of an object roughly poke his back. "Drop, the Hobbit!" yelled the bartender from behind the bar, holding a sword to his back. It was then that Theoric realized all attention was turned to him.

The Dwarf slowly put the Hobbit down as the innkeeper retracted the sword to behind the bar.

"Get out of here Rumto," she shouted. The Hobbit charged out the door. "I don't want to see anymore trouble," replied Aman.

"Thank you, m'lady. If you don't mind, I would like to finish my mead and get a room."

"Think naught of it. You will have a room when your mead is finished," said the innkeeper from Rohan.

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: Theoric Windcaller ]

[Cerulean Fire]

As Soronume and Niniel walked toward the bar, Chrestienne turned to Elwen. "Milady, pardon me for asking this, but you have an unearthly grace about you. Mayhap you are a maiden of the stars?"

Elwen started a little, and Chrestienne immediately blushed and looked down at her plate. "I'm sorry for asking. My curiousity got the better of me. I did not mean to intrude upon your privacy." She glanced up and met Elwen's eyes.

[Nerindel]

As Léspheria smoothed out the skirts of her simple forest green dress to sit next to the Rohirrim man, she felt and heard the dull clunk of metal hitting metal. Raising an Eyebrow she slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out two dragon headed keys.

Suddenly Buttercup's words came back to her, "Miz Aman and Cami are tryin' to find more rooms." She quickly excused herself smiling apologetically, "I will try to come back" she added as she rushed of to find Aman.

As she looked around for the Rohirrim woman, she scolded herself for forgetting that Fawain had given her the key to her room when she left this morning, she had asked her to return it to the innkeeper with her thanks.

Busy reprimanding herself and wondering how she would explain, she wasn't fully aware of the goings on of the common rooms occupants. But as she neared the bar she looked up and suddenly stopped short, her elven grey eyes opened wide at the sight before her. An angry Dwarf was holding a scrawny Hobbit beggar by the neck, but that was not what had suprised her, it was the speed with which Aman had pulled her sword from behind the bar.

Holding her sword to the dwarf's back, The Innkeeper Calmly yelled "Drop, the Hobbit!"
The dwarf immediately complied.

"Get out of here Rumto," Aman shouted after the Hobbit as he charged out the door. "I don't want to see anymore trouble," Aman said turning on the dwarf.

Léspheria didn't hear the rest of the conversation, she was again looking down at the keys in her hand, she was debating weather she would be better of waiting till a bit later to tell the innkeeper about her lapse of memory regarding Fawain's key.

But as she looked up the innkeeper caught her eye, she cocked her eyebrow wondering what was troubling her elven helper.

Léspheria seeing the womans gaze, Put her own key back in her pocket and gripped the other tight in her hand, determinedly she walked over to were the woman was waiting.

She would make no excuses the fault was hers and she would humbly accept any reprimand given.

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Theoric Windcaller]

The Dwarf finished his last pint of mead for the night. His tolerance of alcohol was very strong, so he was fine. He was not intoxicated and was in control of everything he did thereafter.

He gazed to the side. At the bar sat a Rohirrim man, and beside him a young woman straightened out her forest green skirt and sat down beside him. She was an Elf. To his dismay, Theoric had many dealings with Elves, and seen his share of Elven beauty, but this one was different. She was pale and her face gleamed and her eyes twinkled his the stars. She looked as though she was from Imladris, or more commonly referred to as Rivendell.

He eyed her, inspecting her, judging her. Theoric had a habit of doing that since he was a young Dwarf-lad, always inspecting, always judging. She reached into her pocket and pulled out two small peculiar looking keys. They were dragon-headed. Theoric thought for a moment. Of course! The Green Dragon! Maybe the mead had an affect on him after all.

A look of shock appeared on the Elf’s face. She must’ve forgotten something, the Dwarf thought, and then, suddenly, something dawned on him. OF COURSE! I forgot, Aman was to get me my room; maybe this woman can aid me.

Theoric stumbled to him feet from sitting down and slowly made his way to the Elf. He didn’t mind dealing with Elven women, because they had no intention of fighting with him, it was the Elven men he could not deal with.

She turned away and began going towards the Aman but Theoric caught her arm and swung her back around. “Greetings, Elf. I am a weary Dwarf, hailing from a long journey. May I ask you for your name? I shall give you mine. I am Theoric Windcaller.”

She stopped with a small smile on her face. “I am Lèspheria, how can I aid you?"

He smiled as her soothing voice flowed into his ears and rang throughout his head. “Of course, I am no stranger here, we are all companions,” he replied, smiling at his remark.

“How can I aid you sir?" “I seek accommodation,” said the Dwarf. She chuckled as she remembered that the only room left that can be spared is a room with two Elven males. This will be a very peace less night. She shuddered and feared telling him, but she had to.

“Dwarf, Ask Aman at the bar for key to a room, she will give you one as soon as you ask her,” the Elf replied, walking off, sneering and laughing.

[ June 07, 2003: Message edited by: Theoric Windcaller ]

[Nerindel]

As Léspheria made her way to the bar to return the forgotten key. She found herself suddenly spinning around, as someone roughly grabbed her by the arm. She was a little concerned although it didn't show, when she saw the stout young dwarf before her. The dwarves and her fellow kin felt no love for each other, but she herself held no judgement having never meet one before.

“Greetings, Elf. I am a weary Dwarf, hailing from a long journey. May I ask you for your name? I shall give you mine. I am Theoric Windcaller.”

She smiled as she replied “I am Lèspheria, how can I aid you stranger from a strange land?”

“Of course, I am no stranger here, we are all companions,” he replied, smiling at his remark. “Weren’t you choking that Hobbit earlier?” Lespheria frown recalling the encounter.

“Nay, he was verbally attacking me,” replied the Dwarf, Trying to sounding heroic.
“Dwarves take insults seriously then,” she Laughed.
“Well, when someone calls you a dirty pathetic pig, wouldn’t you be angry?” the dwarf replied. She chuckled. So that’s what happened, she thought.

“How can I aid you sir? Tonight is a busy night.”
“I seek accommodation,” The dwarf told her.
She chuckled as she invisioned the dwarf having to share a room with an elven traveller. Her hand then tightened around the key she held in her hand, she thought to give it to the dwarf then thought better of it, for she didn't know if Aman had any other guests waiting afore the dwarf.

“Sir Dwarf, Ask Aman at the bar for key to a room, she will give you one as soon as you ask her,” she replied instead then went to return the key to the innkeeper, she would be the best one to decide would was to be done with it.

[Bekah]

Morwennar cantered down the long, dusty road. The light was failing fast, and she had been instructed to stay in the Green Dragon Inn several miles away while she attended to her task in the Shire. Her father had honoured the inn with his presence some years ago when he had business there, and had returned with favourable impressions of it.

But that was twenty five years ago, and Morwennar did not believe the inn would have stayed the same. However, there was no shelter in sight, and she knew the way to no inn nearby save the Green Dragon in Bywater.

"Faster now, my darling. Come on now, Thunder," Morwennar urged her horse. The chestnut-coloured horse broke into a gallop.

************************************************** ***********

The light had gone, and the road was hard to see. Thunder slowed to a trot, as he and his mistress tried to keep to the track.

************************************************** ***********

A rosy glow in the distance was finally seen, and Morwennar again urged her horse to go faster along the pale track. There was hope now, and the chance of shelter. Warm though it was, it would likely turn colder as the night went on.

The light was nearer now. She could see the outline of the inn, which grew clearer every moment. Soon the sign swinging outside was readable, and Thunder slowed to a canter for a few strides and then started trotting, surprising Morwennar for a little and discomforting her until she found the rhythm again. The inn was a few yards away now, and Morwennar reined Thunder in, smoothly swinging out of the saddle.

There was no one around to take the horse to the stables.

"Hail! I am a stranger from afar, and my horse requires nourishing!" Morwennar shouted to the dark. "Could someone please help me?" She had opened her mouth to cry out again, when a dark figure emerged from the building and walked towards her.

"Hello. Shall I take your horse to the stables, then?" The man took the horse by the halter and started to lead him in the direction of the inn as he spoke.

"Yes. Thank you. His name is Thunder," Morwennar gasped, slightly surprised by the man's swift action.

"My name is Derufin, and I'm a jack-of-all-trades, so to speak." He twisted his head around to talk to her while his feet still strode on, quickly obscuring him from her view.

"Oh. I'm known as Morwennar." With that, she walked towards the inn; then she realized that her money was still in one of the saddlebags on Thunder, and ran after Derufin.

************************************************** ***********

Morwennar finally walked into the lighted inn with her money, reassured that her other belongings would be taken to her room when she was given one.

She asked for a meal from the bartender after her stomach grumbled at its neglection; the stew she was given smelled heavenly.

She stumbled over to a table occupied by some other persons of various heights and asked for permission to sit there. Having received it, she put her bowl of stew down, pulled out her dagger, and proceeded to eat.

A strange thing to do, she thought. Why did that man start to lead Thunder away before I'd answered his question? A more alert part of her answered her own question immediately. Because it was a rhetorical question, you nitwit, and you'd already asked for assistance. Another troublesome query emerged out of the turmoil of her thoughts. Why did he not ask me to retrieve my money first? The answer popped up quickly; he let you have the money when you remembered. If you'd remembered earlier he would have given it to you earlier; he didn't know it was there. Don't be such a suspicious fool.

Fancies. Cobwebs in your head, that's all, Morwennar. These people are fine. Look at you; you're sitting at a table full of people, and you've barely said hello. Socialize. And get yourself a room.

Morwennar knew she had to get a room soon and that it was rude to sit sullenly among others, so she smiled politely at the people surrounding her and excused herself from their company. So noisy and bright...I need to sleep.

She waded through the sea of people to the bar. "Excuse me!" The sound of her own voice roused Morwennar from her state of drowsiness. "I need a room!"

A young woman walked over to Morwennar. "We have no spare rooms, I'm afraid."

"I am tired. I am cold. I have ridden far today. I need a room. A stable will do. But I need somewhere."

"The stable is already being occupied. But perhaps I can find you some place..."

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: Bekah ]

[Theoric Windcaller]

Theoric slowly walking through the halls and up the stairs to his room. He had no knowledge of what waited for him on the other side of that door.

Theoric finally noticed what was going on when he opened the door to his room. Lo! and behold, there were two Elves, both dressed alike, in forest green apparel.

Theoric was dumbstruck and angry. Theoric slowly walked in, everything was silent. The Elves eyed him, judging every move he made.

Dwarven humor and jokes were not that appropriate at most even. They would say what came out of their mouths at times. Here is a perfect example.

Theoric came up to the Elves, their fists clenched. He parted his lips and said, "I get the bed, you two get the floor."

[ June 07, 2003: Message edited by: Theoric Windcaller ]

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

When Gilly’s consciousness began to rise back to the surface, she became aware of the drone of many voices and clapping. It was a pleasant sound, punctuated by the tap of mugs and cups returning to rest on the tables. In her fog, the hobbit was trying to find a pattern to these accents, finally realizing she didn’t need to.

This isn’t home, she thought. Ah, I have fallen asleep, but for how long?

Opening first one eye then the other, the hobbit struggled to wake fully. She nodded and smiled, moving her limbs against their stiffness. Benia was still there as was Aleia, so she couldn’t have been dozing over long.

She notice the innkeeper escorting a rather rough looking hobbit out the door and wondered if there and been any trouble. Then pulling out the handkerchief in her pocket to dab the corner of her mouth, Gilly heard something small and hard hit the floor. At Benia’s stricken expression, she saw that in her hand she held the desert woman’s handkerchief and not her own. Immediately perceiving that the unknown object Benia had wanted her to see had dropped to the floor, she set about retrieving it. Searching around her chair she was looking for something, though she didn’t quite know what it might be. It was certainly not the peas and biscuit crumbs she was coming across. Ah, there it was! She rolled the small dark stone between her finger and thumb. It didn’t look like any stone from around here. Perhaps it was a memento from travel to a far off land. Gilly hoped that was all! She quickly wrapped it in her own clean handkerchief, and passed it back to Benia, before rising to her seat once again.

Aleia, was looking at her quizzically, but with a grin. “ Dear me, I thought I had dropped it!” she announced with a laugh, holding up the letter in her left hand, for her fellow hobbit to see. “Very clumsy, you know?” Aleia nodded sympathetically.

The group was quiet for a little while, taking in the crowd’s activities. Aleia gave a small but contented yawn, and drew their attention back to the table, “Where do you think your travels will take you next, Benia?”

This was a question Gilly was also keen to know. She wondered if Benia herself knew the answer.

[Annalaliath]

Annalaliath ran up to towards the Inn and Morwen, her friend, who was framed by the light of the door.

" I am sorry that I took off like that, " she said looking from Morwen's eyes to the ground, " I didn't want to spoil the moment."

She looked at her friend, "Morwyn," she asked, " what is wrong with me?" The anger, tears and old wounds began to seep through her soul again...

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

[Envinyatar]

If it's all right with everyone, I am going to move us forward to the new day. If this is a problem for anyone, let me know and I will move my post.
_____________________________________________

‘Falmar would have run all the way to Mithlond, so great was her desire to see her mistress once again. Her hooves struck the ground at a rapid pace and the thick muscles of her loins and shoulders drove her legs with such an energy that her gait ate up the miles.

Derufin leaned low along her neck, the night’s air in the wind of their passing rushing through his hair, tangling it in its wild, swift fingers. His own desire matched that of the great beast beneath him, and he had no thought but to see her once again.

They had passed the crossing at Waymeet and were on their way to the White Downs when the light of reason met the pale fingers of first light that now spread softly behind him. The sun had not yet risen, but darkness had fled the skies above, taking the stars and moon with it.

‘Whoa up, ‘Falmar,’ he called loudly, as the horse ran on, though now at a slower pace. He pulled back on the reins, bringing his mount to a halt. ‘Falmar shook her head as she stood there, her muscles trembling from the effort given and from the desire to run on. ‘We cannot hope to find her running madly to the west like this,’ he murmured softly, calming the horse. He turned her around and headed back to the Inn at a slower pace. Leaning down along her neck, he laughed, saying, ‘She is coming to us. We can be patient.’ ‘Falmar shook her head at this last comment as if denying it.

It was early morning when they finally turned up the path to the stable. Smoke rose from the Inn’s chimney into the cool air of early day. ‘Aman is up and the Dragon’s day begun,’ he said with a tired voice, the fall of the horse’s hoofbeats echoing the exhaustion he felt. He saw to ‘Falmar once they made the stable, wiping her down, laying a blanket across her back, and leaving her fresh hay and water.

Taking off his boots before he entered his rooms, he walked quietly past his new room mate, heading for his own bed and sleep . . .

[Envinyatar]

Everyone look at my post above - I moved the time in the Inn forward to the next morning.

See if that will work for you. If not, let me know.

[Theoric Windcaller]

The Dwarf had fallen asleep the night before on the bed, but when he woke up the next morning, he was on the floor.

Theoric looked around. The Elves were gone and a little parchment was left on the door, "Sleep well, Dwarf."

He grunted and then mumbled to himself, "The Elves did it." Well, at least I didn't have to kill them, he thought, with a smile.

The beautiful scent of eggs and bacon floated down the hallway and into every room in the inn. Theoric was mesmerized. He struggled to get up as he tried to recount all the events that took place the night before. He held his head, which was pounding with a great head ache. "Maybe a little breakfast will clear this up."

He struggled to the door and down the stairs, the sun beaming through the open window at the end of the stairwell. He reached again for his axe that usually was strapped to his back, but he remembered it was at the weapons storage downstairs. He kenw a great weight had been lifted off of him, but he remembered naught what it was until now.

As he came upon the lower portion of the inn, he saw a great crowd of people, the same people as the night before.

"Maybe I should find someone to talk to this fine morning," he said as he headed towards the bar to retrieve a hardy meal.

[Nerindel]

Léspheria awoke to the first rays of the morning sun rising over the horizon. She opened the small window in her room and closing her eyes she inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet smells of the new day. She then lifted the large Water jug from the dresser and poured the clear crisp water into a floral wash basin.

As she washed she thought of the previous nights events. The innkeeper Aman had not been mad with her for forgetting about her friends key, infact she was relieved to have another room for the many guest that kept arriving. Then there was Eodwine, it had gotten so busy that she had'nt been able to get away, to speak with him as she had promised.

As she searched her trunk for something to wear she remembered the soft sound of a harp filling the common room the night before. She lifted a soft powder blue short sleeved dress and slipped it over her head. She then took a deer bone comb and sitting in front of the mirror she combed the tangles from her soft dark hair, then she tied it in a braid that sat over her right shoulder. She then lifted a silver and blue Butterfly slide that matched her dress and slid it carefully in her hair just above her left ear.

As she returned her comb to the trunk, her hand brushed something cold. She raised her eyebrows as she pulled out a small silver harp, her Eyes then lit up. She raised the harp and sat by the window to play in the new day. As she played she closed her eyes letting the music flow through her.

When she finnished, she smiled pleased with the music that she had just played. she put the harp down and went down stairs to have breakfast. Maybe Eodwine would join her she thought as she walked gracefully down the wooden stairs.

The delightful smells of breakfast whafted through the inn from the kitchen. bacon, eggs, warmed bread and many other delights that Ms Bunce had cooked up for the guests.

Some of the other staff where already sitting at the long wooden table in the kitchen. "Good morning all" she grinned as she lifted a few slices of the warmed bread and put then on the plate that buttercup passed to her, she then lifted the spoon from the jam pot and put a large dollop on the side of her plate, putting a knife on top she turned to get a cup of the fennel tea she could smell brewing on the stove. Vinca poured her a large mug of the brew and pushed it into her hands, Léspheria nodded her thanks, then made her way into the common room.

Léspheria sat down at a vacant table by the bar and lightly spread the jam across the bread, she took a large bite savouring the sweet taste of the jam combined with the warmth of the bread. Hmmmm Vinca is a most talented cook she though as she took another bite and washed it down with a sip of her tea.

[ June 07, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Theoric Windcaller]

Theoric turned to see Lèspheria, the Elf from the previous night, entering the room and approaching a table full of the Green Dragon staff.

I was lucky I even got a room, thought the Dwarf, remembering his and Aman’s conversation. ‘No! She gave you a room with two Elves, purposefully judging from the look of her eyes,’ contradicted his inner self.

But then, Theoric looked upon Lèspheria’s graceful face, still glimmering like before, and her dark flowing hair, tied in a braid sitting over her right shoulder. I can’t get mad at her, the Dwarf argued. After all, she’s an Elf and I’m a Dwarf, we have no likenesses for each other.

The plate in front of the Dwarf was empty and breakfast was probably going to be over in a few minutes. “I’d best be on my way,” the Dwarf said to himself. Where am I going to go? He thought. Ah, maybe I could visit Bag End, maybe I could still see Samwise Gamgee and ask about his adventures with the legendary Frodo Baggins!

Theoric smiled as he planned his day out. The Dwarf stood up on his feet and bowed before Aman as he saw the Elf lady walk into the common room.

The Dwarf stepped into the common room. He saw the Elf, Lèspheria, sitting at a vacant table alone.

Approaching the Elf, the Dwarf took a deep breath. “Good morning, m’lady.”

The Elf looked up with a smile. “I came over to ask you if you know where to find Bagshot Row?” The Elf lady nodded her head from side to side. “Thank you, I’ll ask someone else, goodbye!”

Lèspheria lowered her head and began to finish her meal. Theoric turned out of the common room and out of the door to the day outside and he never returned to the Green Dragon until a few nights later, or so he thought.

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: Theoric Windcaller ]

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine had slept in worse quarters by far. He stretched and yawned as his thought wandered back to the night before.

"Play for me!" The Lady Waen's anticipation had been hard to deny, but there had been many folk making merry, and others had been singing good songs. And it was not his way to pull others' eyes and ears toward himself. He had played before lords and ladies, but only upon request. He doubted he needed a request from the Innkeeper, but his songs and tales could wait. He had declined with the most courteous words he had known, and she had appeared crestfallen, as if there were more his refusal than he had meant. She had left the Inn to find her bed in the trees. He sighed and rolled over.

And Lespheria had remained busy with the doings of the Inn. Eodwine chuckled. Now that had been a surprise indeed! Not only the hobbit lady Camelia, but the Lady Lespheria of Rivendell, showing up in the same inn, in the Shire! No great stretch for Cami, but What, pray, lady, are you doing here?

There was whinnying and stamping and human voices below. Eodwine's eyes came open. I shall have to ask her just that! Maybe there's an adventure in it. That was, after all, the real reason for his visit to the Shire. His fellows back in Rohan had asked how he could expect to find any adventure in such a quaint and quiet place. He had let them have their laughs.

The King had blessed his journey before them all, and having taken him aside, had winked, saying there would be adventure aplenty if any of the likes of Masters Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took were to be found. "They've awakened something in their kin and country. See if it is not so." Eodwine had thanked his king for both blessing and good speeding words and went on his way.

He rose from bed, washed and clothed himself, and made his way to break his fast. He noted that the sun was well above the hills already, and he wondered if he was the last to rise. He went inside.

[alaklondewen]

Fanyahir bounced lightly on the back of his muscular black horse whose hooves kicked the still dust from the road into the air. Coming from Rivendell he was on his way to Mithlond where he was not expected for another two weeks. Being a friendly acquaintance of an old hobbit who had once lived in Imladris, Fanyahir had heard of the peacefulness of the Shire, so he made arrangements to spend a couple of nights at a small inn called the Green Dragon, and then he would be on his way to Mithlond. One of his elders, Kanothinion, is to meet with him at the havens about his future training as a shipwright. Fanyahir was both nervous and excited about his future.

The dusty road bent to the right and as Fanyahir followed it the inn came into view. A sigh of relief escaped him. After traveling all night, he was more than ready for a hot meal and a bath.

When he reached his destination, Fanyahir jumped lightly from the steed and guided him around the side to the stables. No one was in sight, so he looked about until he found an empty stall. “Here you are, Mornisul.” Fanyahir affectionately rubbed the horse’s nose. “I’ll be out to check on you soon.” With that, he turned and left the stables heading for the front door of the building.

The morning sun flashed in his eyes and his hand instinctively rose to block the rays. Turning the corner, Fanyahir leaped up the steps and opened the door to the inn. The common room was dark and his eyes needed a few moments to adjust. Looking around he noticed the room was relatively empty with the exception of a few folk.

An empty table sat to Fanyahir’s left, and he weaved his way around the other tables and took a seat with his back facing the door. In just a moment a small woman approached the travel worn elf. “How do you do this morning, sir?”

“Well, I’ve had a long journey and could use a nice hot breakfast,” Fanyahir leaned forward across the table and smiled brightly at the hobbit. He was glad to see a friendly face.

“Do you have something specific in mind?” Fanyahir shook his head and said, “I will put in your hands…” “Ruby,” she finished his thought. “My name is Ruby. I'll put your breakfast in and bring it out as soon as it’s ready.” Grinning back at the handsome elf, Ruby hurried off to the kitchen.

Fanyahir sat back in his chair and pulled his long dark hair off his shoulders to his back. The inn had a warm and friendly feeling which made him glad he decided to take the detour into the Shire.

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

OCC: The night before.

Aman was keeping a careful eye on the dwarf. The hobbit beggar, Rumto, was renowned for being a troublemaker, but shouldn't the no weapons policy have dealt with such problems of violence? Nay, this dwarf could indeed be a problem...

The Innkeeper made her way across to the other side of the room, near one of the large window seats, where the hobbit was looking actually quite terrifying, her hands on her hips as she glared at a pair of men who had refused to share rooms earlier. As Aman came up, her hands held behind her back quite innocently, the two men couldn't help suddenly thinking of how those hands had very recently taken the sword from beneath the bar for the second time that week. Under the carefully innocent eyes of Aman and the matronly and fierce ones of Cami, the two men hastily made up, making their apologies and agreeing to share the room. And thank goodness, for now there was another guest.

"We have another, Cami," Aman murmered to her friend. "The dwarf wants a room."

The hobbit looked at her friend despairingly. "He wants a room as well?!"

"Well, we could let him share with one of the hobbits, couldn't we? How about Rumto? We would be able to rid ourselves of one guest." Aman replied cynically. Cami grinned and tapped her lightly on the arm.

"Now, now Aman. Anyway, if that dwarf attempts to disturb the peace once more, he will be out on his ear immediately, as will anyone else who tries to cause any more trouble."

Aman gave a large, dramatic sigh. "Oh, mores the pity. My hand is beginning to wear quite a nice hold in the handle of that sword. Anyway," she continued on a more serious note, turning her eyes from the common room to Cami. "What are we to do about our noble messenger friend, and his lack of friend? Is there anyone else who can share? I don't know how long he intends to stay here, and come to that, I'm not sure he is either."

Cami sighed. "Oh, I don't know. He assured me that he was happy enough to stay in the stables tonight, but we must think of something better."

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Ealasaid]

For the second time in as many days, Gilly had spent the night in Benia's room at the inn. This time, Benia awoke early. When she peeked in on Gilly, she found the hobbit still sleeping. The night before had been a wild ride of ups and downs for Benia between the success of her song and the near loss of the mysterious red stone when Gilly had accidentally flipped it out of her pocket and on to the floor. Then, there was the touchy moment when Aleia, the hobbit from Tookland, had asked Benia where she was off to next. Benia had managed to sidestep the question then, but now found it staring her in the face. Time was getting short. It was all too easy to lose track of time around the Shire, laughing and drinking and exchanging stories, but there was a whole other world beyond the borders of the Shire. She was needed out there.

Regretfully, Benia opened her pack, taking out her traveling cloak and laying it across a chair. Soon, her hood and a pair of soft leather gauntlets joined it. She carefully folded and repacked her scant other belongings, being careful to leave enough room for a goodly supply of food. She reached into her skirt pocket and took out the little pouch that held her finger cymbals. Weighing it in her hand, she hesitated. Then she reached in and removed from it Gilly's clean handkerchief and the stone. She shook the stone out into her palm and gave it a long look. Maybe it was good fortune that she had come by the stone. It could prove beneficial to have one where she intended to go. Frowning, she tucked it carefully into a hidden pocket in the lining of her bodice. She tossed the pouch with her finger cymbals into her pack. The time for songs was over.

[Nerindel]

As Léspheria finnished her breakfast she saw Eodwine enter the room, smiling she raised her hand, beckoning for him to join her. He he tipped his head to Aman and Cami before taking the seat across from her.

Ruby then came to the table, "Would you be caring for some breakfast Sir" she asked, Eodwine grinning like a young lad then proceeded to order. once Ruby had taken Eodwine's order she turned to Léspheria "an can i be gettin you anything more miz Léspheria?"

"Just more tea, please" She replied politely handing her empty cup and plate to the hobbit woman. Ruby took the dishes and hurried of to the kitchen to prepare Eodwine's breakfast.

"so what Errand has brought you to the Shire Master Eodwine?" she asked. she sipped quietly at her tea as she waited for him to reply.

[Himaran]

Bali awoke the next morning to find that he had slept at his seat. Embarressed, as he knew that patrons were required to rent a room, he looked around once more for the inn keeper.

Still not finding her, he decided that it would be in his best interests to have breakfast. He ambled over to the bar and ordered several fried eggs with toast and bacon on the side. The dwarf soon forgot about his illegal over-night stay, and enjoyed his hearty breakfast.

Most others weren't up yet, and the inn was still and quiet. Bali enjoyed a long and peaceful breakfast, before heading outside the inn for a breath of fresh air.

The cold morning breeze stung his cheeks, but reomoved any drousiness left in him. Taking out his hand-carved pipe, the dwarf read the words on it, carefully engraved in gold: To Bali. It had been made for him by one of his dearest friends, an elf named Burzdol. They had met once at the Green Dragon, and the dwarf somehow knew that they would meet again. Soon.

[drabestmage]

Waenchamior walked through the shire. Seeing the Green Dragon Inn in the distance. He pushed his greasy, curly, red hair out of his face. As he approached he noticed two women standing outside the inn. One was obviously Elvin, the other of the race of men.


He smiled to himself, his tall frame wrapped loosely in his mud-spattered cloak. He was well built and had a sword strapped to his side. On his back he kept a bow and a quiver of arrows.

He looked back from the road to the women standing in front of the Green Dragon’s round door. His eyes were blue and they were quick and alert.

He noticed that the Elvis woman was distraught. So he asked, “Are there any orcs about”, thinking that is why she was distraught.

[Burzdol]

Burzdol was riding up to the Green Dragon Inn when he spotted a familiar dwarf outside the Inn. As he rade closer, he saw what he thought was a dream. Bali.

He hopped off the horse and handed the reins to a stable boy. "Bali, Bali is that you?"

The two exchanged greetings that had waited to come out. They then went inside. Burzdol bought malt beers and they sat to talk.

"How's oyur family?" Bali asked.

"Well," he started, looking down almost embarassed, "We now have a young boy. Guess what his name is."

"Burzdol Junior," Bali said laughing.

"No, we named him after you. His name is Bali."

"Well, never thought I'd hear that," the dwarf said. They then started to exchange stories of times they loved.

[Theoric Windcaller]

The Dwarf returned to the inn sooner than he had expected, the same morning to be exact. No sign of Samwise Gamgee at his hole and Frodo Baggins had left quite some time ago.

He sighed, opening the door to the Green Dragon once more. This land, ripe and green, full of little rivers, creeks, brooks, hills, prairies, was not the adventurous land that he had hoped. Maybe it was only luck that adventure came to the four Hobbits of the War of the Ring, Frodo, Peregrin, Samwise and Meriadoc.

He didn’t mind too much though, he was off to Rohan soon enough, hopefully to join his brother and Baylin there. It had been a while since he had tasted ale at The White Horse: an inn in Rohan. It had been a while since Rohirrim men had shared their adventures with him in front of a nicely lit fire, smoking pipes and such.

That reminded Theoric that it had been quite some time before he had a pipe. Oh aye, he remembered, my pipe had been misplaced when I came upon the Misty Mountains. I must’ve dropped the thing.

Theoric got to thinking. Maybe there was a store where he could buy some new apparel, and even a new pipe and some tobacco or pipe-weed. His clothes right now were worn and torn from journeying and his boots had holes in their soles, making the Dwarf’s journey uncomfortable on the rocky roads. “Only if I were a Hobbit with leathery soles on the bottoms of my feet,” he said to himself, walking through the door.

He noticed that the inn was a bit more crowded than it was earlier in the morning. He looked around, scooping the room for his Elven friend, Lèspheria. After his futile attempts to find her, he went to the bar and sat in the same seat he had sat in the night before. Aman stood at the bar, dealing drinks and lunch for those who were hungry.

It was strange. The Dwarf, and Dwarves are hungry most of the time mind you, was not. He pushed aside the thought of more food in his stomach. The pain of his blistered soles and his weary legs made him forget about food, which was a rare thing to forget about for a Dwarf. But, alas, this Dwarf was quite different, well, this Dwarf and his brother were quite different from the rest, and he liked it that way. He wanted no ale of mead either; he had gotten his fill of those things the night before. He smiled as Aman approached him from behind the bar.

“No trouble this morning, or… nay, I mean this afternoon, m’lady, as long as you make sure Rumto has gone away,” said the Dwarf, trying to make amends to the event that had taken place the night before. “Rumto is gone, have no worries,” she said, walking off to accommodate another guest.

He sighed.

“Maybe I will stay here, just another night. And, tonight I will plan out my route and buy supplies for my journeying to Rohan,” he said to himself.

“Oh! I better get a room now, or else I might have to sleep in the stables tonight. I wouldn’t want to wonder what that’s like,” he added, rolling his eyes.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

OOC: The previous evening

Niniel followed Soronume to the bar. Her face glowed, almost, and she fair danced as she walked. She didn't notice, and might have laughed had anyone commented.

Unaware, she was humming, an old ballad that she couldn't remember when or where or why she'd learned it, nor who'd taught it to her. It was very romantic, not to mention appropriate, at least to her mind. After all, it was about love between an Elf and a Man. That was another of her favorite stories.

Aman gave the two of them trays for the drinks. Was it merely coincidence, or did Soronume intentionally brush his hand against hers when he handed her one of the trays?

Niniel suddenly realized the direction her thoughts were heading and quickly headed them off. It didn't matter whether Soronume had or not. A thief couldn't afford this sort of thing. She couldn't deal with it. But his eyes were so deep, and he was so kind...Stop it!, she told herself. There could never be anything real between them, so the idea was completely and utterly moot.

Still, dreaming was nice.

"Soronume?"

"Yes, my'lady?"

"Nothing. I--I--it was nothing."

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[Everdawn]

It was a cool day in the shire. And a peaceful one, all except for the distant thunder of hooves. Suddenly they slowed as a figure on a horse came into view and stopped outside the house of a halfling. The figure, dressed in black dismounded.

"Hello" said the voice of a young woman to the halflings in the house. "can you tell me where exactly i am, you see i havent much sense of direction you see." And it was, a very young woman.

"You is in the shire lady, there is an inn if you is wanting to rest." The raven haired girl smiled. "Thankyou" and rode again until she reached it.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked her horse, who nodded. "well, ok but you will have to stay in the stables." The girl's dark eyes stared up at the sign. " The green dragon" she repeated to herself before making her horse at rest. "does not sound bad." she laughed, and picking up her belongings strode into the doors.

So many people Her eyes looked up in surprise. But still she smiled. And stood in the middle of the hallway. "They would never think to find me here, ive struck gold!" the girl was excited, but at the same time a little nervous.

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

[arelendil]

Elwen had been deep in thought. Soronume and Niniel had returned to the table. Elwen wondered what had happen there, but it seem okay now, what ever had happened. Elwen glanced around, and someone new had joined the quiet corner table. Wow, Elwen thought to herself aren't we popular all of a sudden.

Elwen looked around the table trying to catch up what she had missed. They all seemed to be waiting for the new maiden to speak. Elwen smiled at the maiden and waited like the rest of the table.

[littlemanpoet]

Ruby took the dishes and hurried of to the kitchen to prepare Eodwine's breakfast.

"So what errand has brought you to the Shire Master Eodwine?" Lespheria sipped her tea.

“I brought a message from King Eomer for Master Meriadoc Brandybuck, which I brought to him two mornings agone. That duty done, I am on an errand of good will here, to befriend and learn what I may from the Holbytla, and to return to Edoras after a year and a day.”

Lespheria smiled and sang,

“My friend, you’re on a holiday!
To make merry and to play!
Be sure to risk no deed unkind
And an adventure you shall find!”

Eodwine’s eyes went wide, sleepy winks notwithstanding. He rubbed them out, for they itched, and shook his head. “What do you mean, adventure? Do you know something, Lady?”

Lespheria sipped her tea. “I know what Elves know, my dear.” Eodwine slumped in his chair, shaking his head, looking down, then up again. A sideways grin came to his mouth.

“I know but one Elf, and that is enough for me.” Lespheria laughed. “But how do you know such things?”

“Humans and Hobbits are not hard to read, nor are Dwarves though less easy. You, my dear Eodwine, are an open book to any Elf.”

His eyes were wide as coins. “Is it any wonder I hold the lot of you in awe?”

Lespheria laughed again. “I’ll keep my oracles to myself if you like.”

Ruby came with Eodwine’s breakfast and he dug in heartily.

Between mouthfuls he said, "You've guessed my course well enough, Lady, but I've no such skill. Pray, what be you a-doing in the Shire?"

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[steve]

(sry for takin so long to continue posting my dad fried the electric in the house and I lost all of my files)

(since it is a new day i will compensate for time)

Reaching over the desk, which is still cluttered with papers, Cygnus gently runs his hand down the back of Tran'oul, his cat (a young scottish fold if u want to be percise). Turning away from Tran'oul he pushes some papers out of the way and clears a space on the desk. Then taking the letter he had recieved the day before he undoes the twine and unrolls it upon the desk. He starts to read the letter...


Dear Brother,
I have done some searching through the record of the keep as you had asked me. I could not send it in this letter for fear that it will fall into the wrong han... The writing trails off and is followed by blood stains.

Standing up and hurrying over to a chest in the corner of the room Cygnus opens it and begins to take out articles of clothing and some armor. He then puts some food into the bag and rushes out of the room heading downstairs. He throws some gold coins onto the counter as payment for his room and rushes out the door

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: steve ]

[Elora]

Vanwe woke into the early light of the summer morn from a deep rest. Two nights on a mattrass was an unprecedented decadence for her. Silvanis had not spoken the night before, and she had left him with an undertaking that she still remembered as she blinked at the sky through the loft doors that she had kept open so as to see the night stars.

"Please, if I may ask this of you, do not leave before we have spoken," she had asked. The need in her voice she still recalled. "I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but there are things I must talk to you of." Still beneath a horse blanket, Vanwe rolled to where her pack lay in the loft. She had left Silvanis in the night, and after seeing to the horses, had made herself at home in the loft upon discovering what was up there.

Vanwe had expected her rest to be interrupted, either by the person for whom the loft had been made ready for or Silvanis. Neither had happened. Delicate pink shaded the sky, the faint silvery glimmer still visible to charm the senses as she turned back to gaze at the sky. The night had been warm enough to leave the bay doors open. Yet after a lifetime of southern summers, Vanwe had still needed one of the grey blankets she had found on the bed.

In the morning hush, she rolled from the bed and stretched. The timbers of the stable creaked around her, and the sound of horses below wafted up to greet her. On light feet, she padded to where she had draped her cloak and dress across the drawers and pulled the dress back on over her shift. She would leave the cloak there. Vanwe considered putting her pack in the drawers, and after a little uncertainty at such temerity soon had done so.

She barely filled a single draw. All she had to show was a comb, a cheap book of badly drawn maps, a length of braided leather, a battered water bottle and some odds and ends of wood, carvings at varying stages of completion, unlike the crane she had not put in the draw with her other scant belongings. She studied the crane one more time, noticed the way the wind seemed to ruffle wings outstretched in glorious, free flight, and tucked that behind her belt knife to give it to Derfuin later in thanks and gratitude.

After pulling on battered boots and combing her hair, she folded the horse blanket and scampered down the ladder from the loft. At the back of the stable was where Derufin kept the implements. She picked up a rake and shovel, dropped them into a wheelbarrow she found there also, and was soon busily raking out the stables. The straw had to be changed, water and feed seen to, before any guests came. It would not do to have them find their prized horses hungry and thirsty, and they could not eat in a dirty stall.

Vanwe worked with an effortless, unthinking grace, singing a distinctly Haradian song as she raked, shovelled, watered and fed. Her voice was soft, the song occassionally breaking as she greeted a horse or pony and then taking up again. Despite the uncertainty and isolation that marked her precarious life, as she sang Vanwe revealed a joy and lightness of spirit that was rarely to be seen in the presence of others.

It was good honest work. There had been a roof over her head the night before and plentiful food. She'd had a comfortable bed, and there had been no beating nor anything to shrink away from. There had been nothing to make herself feel small and hide, and so she sang as she worked in the stables, whilst the sun dawned upon a new day.

--------------------------------
OOC- Apologies to Snowdog. I moved us along a little and hope I have not confused you. I'll be happy to edit if you need me to.

[Gelion]

The wind had picked up, and sped young Braladan, Brawly to his friends, along the road to the Green Dragon Inn where his hosts had told him he could find a drink and perhaps a song, "Not to mention a good number of outlanders, lad, so be wary."

Brawly found the door and stumbled inside. The wind blew in after him, ruffling the clothes of the other patrons and causing them to stare at the newcomer. Brawly felt himself blush and hurried to the bar.

He ordered his drink and sat down. He was surprised to see so many other types of people. Brawly was from a small settlement a good ways from the main roads and had only ever seen Dwarves and other hobbits before. Truth be told, he was a little intimidated. Sipping his beer, he looked around for friendly faces.

[Everdawn]

Well, now that your here Madea, what will you do? The girl thought to herself. "I cant go home" she answered herself.

"I guess i should find someone to talk to, yes, i think i will be here a while." she laughed but was almost knocked over by a man rushing out of the inn. Picking herself up off the floor she stopped. A hobbit who had just sat down was looking at her. "Im ok, really i am..."

No, she wasnt really. Her head hurt. "Just my luck, i come here unarmed and on the one time I stop for a proper break i hurt myself." she laughed and flicked her black hair over her shoulder. The young woman walked to the bar. "Hello, um, im loking for something to eat. Anything will do, i could eat a horse!" The unknown girl was given a bowl of soup and sat down at a near by table.

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Morwyn awoke the next morning, the events of the night before still troubling her. As Annalaliath had come out of the shadows and collapsed weeping into Morwyn's arms, a man had approached up the road. His eyes were alert as he glanced about the road, pushing the two women into the light and out of the shadows. "Are there orcs about?" he asked them in a quiet voice, his eyes taking in Annalaliath's distress.

Morwyn laughed. "No, sir. You must not have travelled here before. Welcome to the Shire, a land that is well protected from orcs and other creatures of darkness. The King Elessar is very fond of the Halflings who live here. No harm will come to you while you stay at the Green Dragon."

The man's eyes widened. "This is the Shire then?" he asked. Annalaliath nodded, her tears subsiding. "I am Waenchamion." he told the women.

"And I am Morwyn." the woman introduced herself. The three had moved inside then, and found Nahai and Celecu ready to retire as well.

Now Morwyn stretched and yawned, wondering how Nahai was dealing with the return of her dead love. If she saw Alric again, she wouldn't know whether to burst with happiness or weep. If she saw her family again... Morwyn's head pounded as she took out the letter from Osric and read it over. Baby Eadric would be so big now! She sighed, folding the pages and tucking them under her pillow. She must start planning to return home.

Dragging herself out of bed and putting on a fresh skirt and blouse, Morwyn trudged down the stairs in search of Nahai, Annalaliath, or any familiar face.

[Envinyatar]

He had forgotten to draw the curtains when he went to bed. The sun streamed in, a bright sharp, merciless blade of light, hitting him squarely in the face. He threw his arm over his face and groaned. His head was pounding from the ale he’d had last night, and the night, or what there was of it for him, had been spent in restless sleep.

Derufin could hear the horses stamping in their stalls. By the Stars! It sounds as if we have a pack of mûmakil quartering here! The soft refrain of some eastern melody broke through his complaint, and he wondered if indeed a troop of Haradrim had come to the Inn with their great beasts. He listened for a while as it became softer and then faded away.

He sat up carefully, massaging his temples as he did so, willing his stomach to quiet down. What had possessed him to think he could take in so much last night without consequence!

Staggering to his feet he felt his way out to the stable, keeping his eyes half closed, seeking the deep shadow of the interior. Derufin dared to open his eyes when he reached the middle of the building. Bright light flooded his sensitive sight and he snapped them shut once again. ‘Who left those bay doors open?’ he asked, then remembered that Vanwe was bunking in the loft, and had probably wanted to have the starlight admitted access to her quarters.

He opened his eyes gingerly once again, stepping into the cool darkness of one of the empty stalls. Someone had been at work already, cleaning them out. And he could see the horses had been fed and watered. Vanwe! She was proving a useful person to have around.

He winced as he walked down the aisle between the stalls, unlatching each door to bring the occupant out. His headache was beating an insistent tattoo on the interior of his skull, but the horses and ponies needed to go out to the large pen in the Inn yard. ‘Falmar was the last he let out, and she eyed the man with disbelief as he shooed her from the comforts of her stall. ‘Come on, girl. The fresh air will do you good, and you can sleep out there as well as in here.’

Once done, and the gate to the pen secured, Derufin walked slowly to the back entrance into the kitchen. Cook eyed the haggard face of the unkempt Man and shook her head at him.

‘No lectures, please!’ he pleaded, sitting down heavily at the kitchen’s table. ‘Just a cup of strong tea, if you would.’ His voice trailed off and he looked at her with a sheepish expression on his face.

‘And a dose of that willowbark powder, too, if you please, Cook. My head is pounding . . .’

[Elora]

Vanwe hung back, Derufin painting a familiar picture as he did as best as he could to cope with the morning light. Her singing was silenced as he winced at the sunlight. She did not notice how tight her hands were around the haft of the rake she had been holding when he entered the stables. Nor did she realise just how quiet and still she had become. It was instinct. Men, she had learnt, could be dangerous at such times. Derfuin had not shown anything other than gentle kindness, but it was better to be cautious. That was why she kept with her that small length of the thong used too often across her back. It helped her to remember.

It wasn't until she sighted him moving back to the inn that she realised her hands were aching with the force of her tense grip. Vanwe took a breath again, and glanced at white knuckles. She should not forget, and she nearly had that morning. Her fingers shook a little as she unwound them from the rake. The horses had been taken out to the pen and their stalls were mucked out. She set the rake back where it was kept, new caution in her movements. Now was not the time to stumble and make a mistake like forgetting where the rake was supposed to be stowed.

Vanwe then took up the handles of the wheelbarrow and pushed it out to where she had noticed a compost heap. Soiled straw was valuable, she well knew, and she duly emptied the used straw out onto the heap, using the shovel to turn it over and areate the rich castings that would in turn be used to aid the garden. The barrow emptied, Vanwe pushed that back to be stored where it belonged too, with the shovel.

The stable was quiet now, and she stood in the doorway gazing at the inn. Her stomach let her know that it could smell breakfast inside, but wariness prevailed. It was always best to present a low profile. It was after a heavy night that she had found life more difficult and Vanwe was not about to sully the small oasis of peace she had found with an error in judgement.

Instead, she turned away from the inn and made for where the lumber was kept behind the stable. Vanwe eased back the oiled cover that kept it dry and whole and studied it for a moment. It would help her, she decided, if she knew what manner of things were held within the timber she presently observed. With that in mind, she folded to kneel beside the timber store and started to work her way through it.

Eyes closed and the warmth of the morning sun on her face, head and shoulders, Vanwe laid her hands gently and reverently on the timber, piece by piece. Her brow lost the faint furrow that had marked it, and she sighed as though she were speaking to the timber.

"Ah, a fine chair you would make," she would say. "Wonderful," sometimes she would exclaim softly or merely laugh quietly as though she heard something that pleased or amused her. "Mmmmmm, a door, or perhaps shingles... you do not know?"

That the timber would not answer her did not occur to Vanwe, for in a manner it did, through what she felt held within each length through her hands pressed against them. In time, she had explored the timber at length and her hands came to where the crane sat behind her belt. Vanwe opened her eyes and looked down to where it was cradled in the palms of her hand. It resonated it's shape, spoke of the freedom of the air and of soaring over plains and seas.

Perhaps, when Derufin was in a better frame of mind, she would give it to him then. For now, though, she would leave him in peace. The very idea of running afoul of a rare kind person was more distressing than any beating she had received from those she so despised. Vanwe studied the crane a little longer, nodded and tucked it back into her belt.

She scraped long blonde hair back behind her ears, hair that had always marked her strange and different, and wiped her face of the tension that had started to gather there once more. Some of the plants looked like they were in need of water, and she had spotted a pail in the stable. Sitting idle by the wood pile would not make things smoother should Derufin venture back outdoors.

[Nerindel]

"You've guessed my course well enough, Lady, but I've no such skill. Pray, what be you a-doing in the Shire?"

"Ah, Two things bring me to the Fair lands of the Shire. One joyous and one not so." She sighed slightly as she spoke the last words.

"I know not if you knew the Elven Lady Piosenniel, the previous innkeeper of this fine establishment, but she has recently given birth to twins and the time of the naming ceremony of our people is near at hand."

Eodwine's head bobbed up and down as he eat and listened to her words. "The good lady innkeepers name is much used in Rivendell. The hospitality that she has shown many a weary elf that has travelled these parts is sung in many a song. Therefore in gratitude and celebration of the birth, the Lords of Rivendell have sent gifts" a light twinkled in her eyes as she recalled the present innkeeper's astonishment at their gift.

"And what gift would the Lords of Rivendell send a humble innkeeper" Eodwine couldn't help asking.

"Miruvor! my friend the drink of the Elves." she laughed, Eodwine joined in her mirth.

"And for the children" he asked

"Ah" She took a quick glance around the room to be sure that no one was eavesdropping, then she leaned over and whispered softly in his ear, "Circlets of the finest Elven craft, Each set with a silver star, That they may always guide their way."

Smiling she sat back taking a long sip of her tea. "A fine gift indeed m'lady," he said smiling broadly. "And what of the other reason you mentioned for being here?"


At his words she slowly lowered her cup, She looked deeply in to his eyes wondering if he would know any of the people that she would be naming in her tale. As Eodwine looked back at her he could see the the sparkle had gone from her eyes.

"I am awaiting word from my twin brother Lóthaniel. He is on his way to the rebuilt city of Annúminas on a mission most urgent and personal to him. Skaikrish the Maimer is holding Halwain The Dunedain Captain of the guard" at the mentioned of the Orc cheif's name she clearly saw a fire in the usually warmed natured mans eyes, She wondered if he knew this Orc or if it was just memories of old.

"Skaikrish and a band of his kin escaped from mordor but as they passed through Ithilien they killed a female ranger, they were then persued by the Ithilien Rangers into the misty mountains and there they hid and laid an ambush. The Ranger's were reluctantly force to retreat back to Ithilien with many injured men, but not before the Ranger Fawian Isilmeleo had killed Skaikrish's favourite mate. Now the Ranger that I mentioned that Skaikrish had killed was Fawains mother and the Captain of the Guard of Annúminas is her Father."

As she paused to take another sip of tea she noted Eodwine's puzzled expression as he tried to figure out how the Elves were involved.

"After the ambush in the Misty mountains Fawain had been injured and separated from her companions she managed to make it to the passed were she was set apon again and that is were the elves come in my friend," she smiled as she had yet again correctly read the man's thoughts.

"Lóthaniel and I drove of her assailants and took her to Rivendell to be healed, at once my brother recognised the young lady to be of the same blood as his good friend Halwain. When he quiz his friend he told him that Fawain was indeed his daughter, he asked him not to tell Fawain of her heritage for it would only bring her grief. At the time we knew not what he meant by this, but we know belief that he many have some of the foresight of is kin. Halwain has dedicated his life in the persuit of Skaikrish and his evil band, he found them hold up in the blue mountains but their numbers had multiplied and Halwain was captured, but some how Skaikrish found out that Fawain was the one who killed his mate and that the man he captured was her father so he sent messengers to Annúminas calling for them to bring Fawain to him or he would hang Halwain on the top of the mountain torn and broken for all to see." She sighed as she took another sip of tea, then continued...

"Word was sent to Lóthaniel and he immediatley sent word for Fawain to meet him here. He asked the Lords leave to take their gift to the Shire and then join Fawain and the Ranger of Annúminas in the rescue of their Captain, the Lords agreed then sent their own messengers to Gondor to inform the king of the situation."

"So, it was that two day's ago Fawain was told of her father and his peril, they left but yester morn with heavy hearts. I fear for my brother as he is deeply in love with this young woman but she knows it not. His love for her is so great that he would gladly die in her stead. A single tear fell down her soft pale cheek as she spoke.

In different circumstances she would be happy for the pair for Fawain and Léspheria are great friends and she is a perfect companion for her restless brother, but they weren't so she would have to just sit here to wait and hope that they would stay safe and well.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman woke with the sunlight softly warming her eyelids, even through the closed curtains. As she got up, she could hear the birds singing cheerfully, and the sound of the horses shifting in the yard, neighing softly and moving around. The sound of quiet, smooth singing sweetened the morning air even further, and Aman smiled, taking a moment to just look out over the yard before she got dressed.

Coming down the stairs, Aman saw that some of the Inn's earlier risers and new arrivals already in the Common Room. Cami would no doubt already be up- the efficient hobbit was always up before Aman, a point on which she delighted in teasing the Innkeeper about. Aman was certain she was getting better though- she certainly wasn't the lie-in-until-noon Aman that she had been before at any rate, no matter how much she might like to be. Something about thin curtains- the way Aman's bed lay, the early morning light woke her early but pleasantly. Certainly there were worse methods of waking up- she remembered with a rose-tinted glassed induced smile how she had been woken up often when training horses for the Rohirrim; generally a bucket of water or a cold, wet face cloth was used.

The woman walked briskly into the kitchen to see that Cami wasn't yet there, but Cook was, standing over the kettle and a sizzling saucepan, and so was Derufin, slumped over the table in a most un-characteristic manner.

"Morning Cook," she greeted Vinca cheerfully. "Morning Der- vala in an ale-house, what happened to you?"

The red-eyed Derufin sniffed, looking miserable and more than a little sheepish. "Not a vala, just me. Please, no lectures," he added quickly, holding up a hand, then wincing as he rose his voice. "I'm just going to sit over my tea- thankyou, by the way Cook- and feel sorry for myself." Saying so, he closed his eyes again and took another gulp of the tea. Cook placed a small shot-glass of powder in front of him with a thump, her lips pursed disapprovingly. "Thankyou, Cook." The sheepish reply came.

Cook turned to Aman. "Seems our stable master was at the ale."

"Mistake!" Came the hasty reply. Aman laughed. "Well, do you feel well enough to do some work?"

One suspicious, red eye took in Aman. "Does it involve lots of noise?"

"Probably not."

"Probably not? Oh, that'll do. What did you have in mind?"

Aman smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Derufin. The attic needs clearing- its more than a one person job, take my word for it. Have you seen it?"

Derufin nearly coughed up his tea as he turned quickly on Aman, then winced as a headache struck once more, before turning a baleful, shocked gaze on her. "The attic? Its a jungle!"

Aman smiled, all wide, innocent eyes. "A jungle? Oh, just think of it as a challenge. Come on, I want to get started before Cami is up. Have you had breakfast?"

Derufin opened his mouth, but Cook got there first. "No he hasnt, and neither have you, Miz Aman. Or Vanwe. Seems to be becominga trend. Go and fetch her in, would you Aman, there's a dear."

Aman nodded, but couldnt help murmering to Derufin as she passed. "Fancy stomaching a bacon butty, Derufin?"

Leaving the shuddering man behind, Aman went out to find Vanwe.

[Envinyatar]

"Fancy stomaching a bacon butty, Derufin?"

Cruelty, thy name is Aman! he groaned.

His rebellious stomach roiled at the thought of bacon, dripping with grease, and slathered in brown sauce, pressed between two thick slices of Cook’s white bread. Derufin clutched his middle as the waves of impending revolt increased.

Standing up carefully from his chair, he leaned for a moment on the table as his head spun. Cook came over, a look of concern on her face. More for the cleanliness of her kitchen floor than for me! he thought briefly as he waved her off.

‘Tell Aman I’m done in for the day. Vanwe can handle the start to the attic clean up with her. I just don't think I ca . . .’ His barely audible whisper trailed off as his face, now shiny with sweat, turned a ghastly shade of pale green, and he clenched his stomach tighter.

He moved quickly, then, knocking over his chair, and made for the kitchen door at a dead run.

Cook followed after him and shut the door securely as he exited. Buttercup, her eyes first gone wide at the scene, frowned at this action. Cook answered her succinctly as she went back to her skillets filled with eggs and sausages.

‘I don’t want to hear it if he doesn’t make it to the “facilities” in time!’

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman entered the stables, looking around for any sign of Vanwe. Sure enough, a few seconds later the sound of soft singing began again, accompanied by the rhythmic swish-swish of a broom on the stone floor.

"Morning, Vanwe."

The woman spun around, surprised, which surprised Aman as she was usually so alert. "Oh! Goodness me, you can move quietly!"

The woman of Rohan shrugged. "Horse trainer for the Rohirrim. Doesn't do to disturb the wild ones. Will you come in for some breakfast, and help me with a little something?"

Vanwe smiled. "I'm sure I could manage a bite. Can I..?" She motioned towards the floor.

"It'll wait, I'm sure."

Vanwe nodded. "Thankyou." Propping the broom against the wall, she and Aman walked together towards the Inn, quite slowly, revelling in the early morning light.

Aman grinned suddenly, unable to stop herself. "Have you see Derufin this morning?"

Vanwe suddenly seemed to freeze, although she kept walking and her smile remained, although it was a little fixed. "I...I have." She replied slowly.

Aman took in her expression change, but didn't say anything, carrying on, her smile wide as she shook her head. "Oh, he is a state!" She cleared her throat. "Thats, er, thats why I need you to help me with a little job. The attic needs to be cleared out, I'm afraid."

"Really?"

By Vanwe's mild tone, Aman could tell the elf certainly hadn't yet seen the attic. She debated telling her, then thought of how she would look when she saw it- probably like Aman herself had looked when Cami had first shown her into the decrepit storage space. She carried on in a weak tone. "Right. I mean, yes, yes it does. And...well, its at least a two or three person task."

"That big?"

Aman held open the door for Vanwe as they went inside. "I don't really know." She answered, truthfully.

OCC: Wooh, 2000th post, and in my favourite Inn!

[ June 10, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

[Elora]

(OOC- Congratulations Aman!)
--------------------------------------

The attic sounded interesting to Vanwe, who was not entirely sure what an attic was. Not that she'd admit as much, for Aman was discussing attics as though they were commonplace and Vanwe was determined to appear as though she fitted in. It would be nice to belong somewhere, for a change.

Aman held the door open and ushered Vanwe through as the Elf was wondering why Aman knew about attics but not about how big a job the "attic" was. Before she could turn to ask, Derufin bolted past them. Vanwe slid to one side smoothly, desperate to not get in his way and anxiously watched him pass at a sprint. Aman narrowly avoided collision herself. He was distinctly green and very unhappy.

Aman patted ruffled skirts and hair that had been swept up in Derufin's rapid departure back into place as she looked after the man. She was chuckling. Vanwe was astonished. Her heart was pounding at the nearness of the catastrophe. Aman shook her head in wry amusement and continued through the door.

"Men and their ale," she murmured as she laughed. All Vanwe could do was try to not look so perplexed. How Aman could find such danger amusing was a riddle to Vanwe.

"Breakfast and that attic won't keep all day," Aman said and again beckoned Vanwe on towards the kitchen. She glanced sideways at the Elf as they crossed the floor.

"Something wrong, Vanwe," she asked mildly. Vanwe, utterly atwitch with confusion merely nodded as she replied, "No, nothing at all."

Aman measured up the contrary and distracted nature of Vanwe's response and frowned lightly, but the expression passed as they entered the kitchen. The table still held the breakfast that Derufin had abandoned with such haste. Cook beamed, still amused, at the two who entered.

"Ah, sit! You'll need a big breakfast for that attic," she exclaimed.

"And probably lunch too," Cami added with michevious humour as Aman and Vanwe sat as bidden.

Vanwe, who still had no idea what an attic was could only smile and puzzle over that further. Cook and Cami busily added to the store on the table, Cook not wasting the opportunity to make it clear how perilious it was to miss breakfast. Vanwe, for whom breakfast had never been something she had been able to rely on, pointed out what seemed to her to be obvious.

"You do not die if you do not eat breakfast Cook. I rarely have eaten breakfast, and I am not dead," she stated in an effort to reassure Cook that neither she nor Aman would expire for having missed breakfast. Cook fixed Vanwe with a stern expression.

"Your so thin it's wonder, Vanwe," she announced. "Young women should not be so slender, no matter what the fancy fashions say," she declared in a tone that brooked no argument. Cami added, "I wonder if she even eats dinner." It had not escaped the Hobbit's notice that Vanwe had not arrived for dinner the night before.

For Vanwe, for whom the plentitude of food was inextricably related to your wealth and station and not fashion or even your hunger, it was one more thing she could not fathom. Mystified, she stopped any further comments by placing a thick piece of warm bread drizzled with honey into her mouth and chewed it and the exchange over.

"Oh, leave her be... she is Elven, and supposed to be tall and willowy. Pay them no heed, Vanwe," Aman waged on her behalf. What, Vanwe wondered, is a willow? Riddle, enigma and puzzles shaped this morning. She finished her bread whilst Cook muttered something about Elves being underfed as a race, and tried to lighten her state of confusion.

"Aman, what is an attic?"

Why that prompted Cook and Cami to commence laughing, Vanwe did not know. Aman smiled, somewhat guiltily, and said, "Vanwe, that is something you will shortly discover, my dear."

Cami was still chortling and Cook set another piece of bread before Vanwe. "Not before she finishes that tea, and the bread, she won't."

Vanwe decided that was as good an answer as she could expect and nodded. If she had to finish the bread and tea, that she would do. She set to, smiling at Aman as she did so, being sure to avail herself of the discovery she made yesterday of the wondrous thing called honey. Perhaps that attic would be today's wondrous discovery.

[ June 10, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Bekah]

Morwennar woke up as the light pierced her consciousness.

The source of it became apparent as Morwennar regained awareness. A small chink of cold but bright light shone through some curtains.

She slowly realized where she was: a fairly comfortable chair in the Green Dragon Inn in the Shire. Someone else was snoring in another chair.

Morwennar got up and began to explore quietly. She had no idea what time it was, but by the position of the moon outside, it was quite early in the morning. She'd had enough sleep, anyway.

Where were her clothes and hairbrush?

Memory rushed to her aid and she recalled leaving them on the horse. She hadn't chosen a room, so of course no one would have shifted them.

Or would they? It never paid to be too trusting, in Morwennar's experience.

Only one way to find out. She winced as the cold of the frosted grass successfully numbed her feet painfully. The horse was in the stables, around the back of the inn.

Morwennar shivered in the cold air, her thin clothes rustling in the breeze.

There was Thunder. And her clothes. But her money wasn't there. Who had stolen it??

She had come here, and the stable boy - or rather man, he was a man, not a boy - had taken Thunder. The money was in a small skin in the saddlebag.

Derufin, that was the name. He must have taken it.

She strode back to the inn, her face stony as she thought over the dangers of the inn.

Once inside, she dropped onto her chair, dumping her bag of personal effects beside her.

No harm in looking for her money. He could have put it in the inn, nobody would suspect that.

The walls of the room were of a beautiful kind of wood; the Green Dragon was also in the open instead of a hobbit hole in the ground. Strange. Hobbits didn't like houses above ground. The furniture matched the walls, carved into intricate and beautiful shapes resembling certain creatures. In fact, they seemed to resemble creatures the four hobbits met on their journey. Treebeard was there, though what he would think of precious wood being used as furniture, Morwennar didn't know. Beautiful rugs adorned the floor, swirling in random but colourful patterns. Shelves with old and dusty looking books were placed here and there around the room. Comfy chairs were dotted around the place. The occupant of the chair opposite her still snored.

He stopped suddenly, and seemed to wake up; Morwennar watched him closely, uncertain as to what kind of person he was and how he would react to someone gliding around the room; then he mumbled something and sank back under the surface of sleep, starting to snore again after a few minutes.

She crossed over to him and examined his face quickly. Honest looking fellow. Most swindlers were honest looking, though. She turned back to the chair beside which she had put her belongings.

And gasped. Under the chair, a familiar looking skin bag peeped out.

So Derufin hadn't taken her money. She remembered now what had happened last night, being unable to obtain a room. The innkeeper had suggested that she sleep on a chair in the lounge, telling her that she could sleep there without receiving disapproval or charge, as she couldn't get a room.

So after buying a drink she had picked the chair she awoke on, gently kicking her money under the chair on the basis that no one would look for it there unless they knew where it was. She had temporarily forgotten.

Morwenna picked up her money and stuffed the bag and its contents into the larger one containing her clothes and wooden comb. She took this latter article out now, and began to run it through her extraordinary fire-red hair.

No creature in all Middle-earth had hair such as hers. It was the colour of live coals, glorifying her pale face. Her peircing blue eyes accentuated them both, and combined everyone looked at Morwennar twice, which was one of the reasons why she often wore her hood down low. Her name was Elvish, though she was a woman of Rohan. It meant 'Dark Fire Maiden', and she was aptly named.

OOC: I have to go now, but I will edit this yet again and follow her up to the attic, where she will be led by her curiousity and boredom, though, of course, always suspecting a trap, given her nature.

[ June 11, 2003: Message edited by: Bekah ]

[piosenniel]

All posters please note:

The above 'SAVES' is the last one allowed in the Inn, with the exception of the Moderators or Innkeeper who may need to make adjustments to bring the large storyline at the Inn into focus.

And even then, those types of 'SAVES' should be few and far between.

The above post needs to be filled in by June 11th, midnight, Pacific Daylight Time. If not, then I will delete them.

If you need to coordinate a post with someone - then PM them - do not put a 'SAVE' on the Green Dragon storyline.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ June 11, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Everdawn]

Madea had been sitting in one of the tables near the bar, watching the conversation between the hobbit, elf and woman. This young woman had never seen such antics in her home. Her father would not allow her to leave the city, which of course was Dol Amroth, without an escort, it just wasn't proper.

She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands, and then immediatly sat up straight. Elbows off the table! she remembered, and then laughed and put them back.

"Are there many elves here?" the girl called to Aman from across the room. "its just that ive never seen them before, or hobbits for that matter, ive never seen any of them either. In fact, i havnt seen much of anything to tell you the whole truth." she stopped and put her hands in her lap and then grinned.

"My name is-" she was silent. Should I tell them?... why not? They look trustworthy. "Madea, Madea Obisentauri, only dont tell anyone if they ask, im.. im on the run you see... and i dont care to return to where i came from."

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Aleia woke up in the bright sunlight and yawned. She judged that by the sun, it was quite late in the morning. Aleia hopped out of bed and dressed quickly, hoping to catch one of her companions from the night before in the Common Room.

She thumped down the stairs and went into the Room. Scanning the crowd, she was soon disappointed as she did not see Gilly or Benia. That's two sets of companions I've missed the next morning! she thought, and sat at the bar. She gave a nod to Ruby as a gesture of hello, and ordered a hot cup of coffee.

"Thank you, Aman. And a slice of toast, please. Thanks," she said. As she munched her toast and sipped her coffee, she surveyed the Room to look for someone to sit with and talk to. She hated sitting by herself in an inn. It was quite dreary.

Just then, she noticed a young lad sitting by himself, also scanning the crowd in earnest for a companion. Excellent! thought Aleia. I won't have to sit alone after all! Taking her coffee and toast to the lad's seat, the hobbit introduced herself. "Good morning, lad! I am Aleia Took, of Tookland. May I join you?"

[ June 11, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

“What is an attic?”

The question caught Aman completely off-guard, and her guilty expression along with the actual question set Cook and Cami off, first chuckling, then laughing. That would explain the slightly worried, puzzled look which had been on Vanwe’s face as they walked, and would even more explain why she had replied in so mild a tone when Aman had told her they would be clearing the attic. She was a funny girl…

“You don’t…well, an attic is…its…” the Innkeeper struggled for words for a few minutes, before settling for, “That will be something you will shortly discover. ‘Twill be the first time either of us have done this.” She added, her voice cheerful.

“Aye, well, it will certainly be an experience for both of you, although whether good or bad will become apparent, if it isn’t already,” Cook chuckled, before placing a pot of red tea and a plate of thickly sliced bread. “And not before you’ve finished this tea, and this bread, you won’t.”

“Thanks, Cook.” Aman hungrily took a slice of bread and spread it thickly with honey. She had come to love the breakfasts in the Inn, when there was time for them. “No bacon this morning?”

There was a groaning and a small gurgle behind them, before Derufin ran once more out of the Inn. Cook pursed her lips disapprovingly after the disappearing man, then turned her gaze on Aman, who was staring after him, shocked, but trying to hold back a laugh. “You shouldn’t torment him, Miss Aman, he isn’t himself today.”

Aman’s wide eyed gaze was genuine. “What?! I honestly didn’t know he was there, this time!” The fact that she was still trying to restrain a laugh probably wasn’t, she reasoned, helping her case. Cook just pursed her lips a little tighter. The Innkeeper looked away from her intimidating gaze, fixing her thoughts, and her teeth, in the honey covered bread. Vanwe did the same, and Aman smiled at the look of delight on her face as she tasted the honey, still as great and as wondering as when she had tasted it yesterday. Strange, it was as if she had never tasted it before.

A few minutes later, after a hurried, rather unenthusiastic, and unyielding search for Derufin, Aman, Vanwe and Cami set off up the stairs, winding around until they reached the attic. Aman pulled open the trapdoor with a flourish and, holding up her skirts awkwardly, she went up the ladder into the one part of the Inn which had quite probably remained completely unchanged since its building, save the addition of several hundred piles of junk. In the early morning, with the sunlight shafting down over the piles and the dust motes floating through the air gently, the attic looked less intimidating than it had last night, but she still heard Vanwe gasp. Turning, she grinned at the wide eyed elf, who wasn’t trying to conceal her expression now. Cami’s voice shook them out of their surprise though, as the hobbit called up to them through the trapdoor.

“Well, let me know when you finish, alright?”

“Hang on!” Aman dashed back over to the trapdoor, peering down at the other. “Where are you going?”

“Well, someone needs to keep the bar going!” Cami let her false innocence slip, grinning wickedly. “Have a nice time.” Before Aman could object further, the hobbit was gone. The Innkeeper sighed, before straightening up brushing a hand over her hair and turning to Vanwe.

“Well…lets get started then.”

OCC: Love it, Elora and Envinyatar!!!

[Rabelle]

(OOC: I'm new at all of this, and can't quite think of a way to come in, so here is my best way...)

Rabelle hurried into the Green Dragon Inn. She pulled her weathered cloak even tighter about her, hoping not to be seen. Spotting an empty seat, she sat down quickly and looked around her.

The place was too busy for her tastes. As a sort-of Ranger, she preferred solitude. Besides, when most people saw a female Ranger, they asked questions on how it could be possible. Rabelle always had one answer for them, but it was a little rude, and she didn't quite enjoy making her point known.

She signaled to the bartender and pushed away telltale wisps of red hair from the hood of the cloak. She sipped the ale and looked around once more at the people surrounding her.

[Ealasaid]

Benia looked at the cloak, hood, and gauntlets she had laid out on the chair. They and what they represented to her both beckoned and repelled her. She sighed. As much as she hated to leave the Shire again so quickly, she had no choice. She might as well get on with it. But still she hesitated. There was still the matter of provisions. And she had to say good-bye to Gilly. After all, the entire reason she had come to the Shire in the first place had not been to say hello to Gilly, but to say good-bye. She had the strong premonition that she would not be coming back.

Benia went to the corner and picked up the sword and scabbard that had once belonged to her father, Jack Nightshade. It was a fine weapon, nicely weighted, and well-suited to her size. She was lucky she had grown to be a tall woman. Any smaller and the sword would have been too much for her. She half-drew it from the sheath and watched as the sunlight from the window caught the oiled blade and made it shine.

I should leave it with Gilly. The thought came to her suddenly. She will take care of it.

She glanced at the door behind which her friend still slept. I should leave it and my mother's ring so that they should not come to a bad end. Finally coming to a decision, Benia pushed the sword back into its scabbard and returned it to its resting place in the corner. She slipped out the door.

When she arrived in the common room, Benia found it already crowded. She could see Aleia, the hobbit she and Gilly had spent a jolly evenig with the night before, already in conversation with some new friends. Benia smiled and waved to Aleia, but rather than joining her, went the other way and into the kitchen. She found Aman, Cook, and a young Elven lady at breakfast.

"Excuse me," she said and wished each of them a good morning. "I know you must be very busy. I won't trouble you for long. I am preparing to make a long journey and find my provisions have run low. Where in Bywater could I best buy food and supplies?"

Aman wished her a good morning in return and directed her to the nearby green grocer and general store. Benia thanked her and prepared to go. As she did so, she noticed the eyes of the elflady following her closely. Puzzled, Benia nodded to her. There was a haunted look to the elf's eyes that troubled her. When Benia nodded to her, the elflady smiled and nodded back, but Benia noticed the smile did not travel as far as her eyes. In fact, she seemed nervous of Benia, almost frightened.

[Elora]

Was Benia looking at her closely? And where had Derufin sprung from? Vanwe narrowly averted choking on her sweetened tea and tightened her grip around the warm cup as Cook chided Aman about teasing Derufin. Vanwe was not quite sure which way was up or down. Why, for example, would anyone court fate by provoking a man sorely affected by ale? Vanwe badly missed her scrap of paper which was still in Silvanis' possession. So many questions, she was sure to forget them.

She had sipped at her tea, savouring the honey and rolling her seemingly unending list of queries around in her mind when Benia had descended for the morning. Vanwe had cause to be grateful that she was holding onto her cup with both hands and had a mouthful of tea so as to prevent her from uttering the exclaimation of dismay that sounded over the questions in her mind.

Aman, who had not missed Vanwe's jittery manner all morning, blinked in open question at what precisely had disturbed her this time. Vanwe noticed none of that. She was too busy trying desperately to determine why Benia was looking so closely at her. Behind the woman's cloak, it was difficult to see more of her cloathing but her face reminded her of the Southern woman Vanwe had fleeting observed two or so nights ago. So much had happened it was hard for her to keep accurate track of time.

A warrior, keen to make some gold in fetching back a runaway? They sometimes did that. Vanwe well remembered the downtrodden and miserable youth who passed through her village with a warrior who was on his way to return him. Knowing what he would face upon his return had given her cause to still what she had been in the midst of. It was a sight that was not easy to forget. The child could not have been older than 14 or 15 years, she guessed, and had been dusty, thirsty and marked with a hard trail as he slumped behind his captor's horse. His hands had been tied to the pommel, and he'd been left in the sun whilst the mercenary had bought more water.

There was a deadness in the boy's eyes that had remained with her long after he had stumbled out of town later that day. The close stare of Benia, and Vanwe's suspicion about her origins made it hard to keep her cup from shaking. Vanwe tried to disengage her smile or her gaze, but seemed oddly frozen to where she sat.

Aman, who knew what an attic was and could reckon that they would need all the time they could get to clear it decided there was no time for Vanwe to dive under a table, leap out a window nor fall to her knees and beg for mercy.

She mustered Cami, called Vanwe and headed off in the direction that the attic in question was located. Vanwe rose, still staring at Benia. Almost unthinking, she fell into obesience, sweeping an elegant bow that marked her all the more clearly as hailing from Harad.

"I wish you a fair journey. May the Sun be kind to your path, Mistress," Vanwe said upon rising. Again, a more distinctive declaration of Harad she could not make, other than to fly about the room in dancing silks. Benia cocked her head as she studied Vanwe.

"Vanwe," called Aman. Vanwe can't recall being quite so pleased to be summonsed before.

"Your pardon, Mistress, but I have duties I am bound to perform," she said. With a last earnest, almost pleading smile, Vanwe hurried up the stairs after Aman and Cami. She glanced over her shoulder as she ascended, and saw Benia staring after her in mystification, before a turn in the stairs carried Vanwe from view of the commonroom.

Vanwe arrived in the attic with a sigh of relief that was at odds with Aman's reaction to Cami's announcement. Oblivious Vanwe stood listening for the sound of another climbing the stairs. If Benia was what she thought she might be, she'd have to resort to something else. Vanwe peered out the window at the distant ground and wondered if she'd be able to make the drop.

All Vanwe heard, though, was Aman. "Well... let's get started then," the Inkeeper said.

Vanwe looked about the room more carefully now. It was a myserious place. The morning sunlight caught motes of dust golden and they glimmered as they floated around strange piles of unidentified objects.

"Perhaps I should open the window," said Vanwe. "Yes, help us breathe in all this dust," replied Aman. Vanwe promptly saw to it, adding her mind that removing the necessity to jump through glass or tarry to open it in haste should Benia appear in pursuit would further improve her slim chance of freedom.

Vanwe turned back from the now opened window and pushed up the sleeves on her periwinkle blue dress. On the floor, their skirts had traced large swathes in the dust and already held the disarray of the attic upon their dresses.

"Oh no, Aman, your lovely dress," Vanwe exclaimed as she noticed the dirt that had attached itself to the hems of their skirts.

"My lovely dress," Aman chuckled, "will take more of a beating than this before we are done." Vanwe thought that was a shame, for Aman's dress did not have patches and or signs of hard wear. It was a nice dress, she thought. One more question to add to her list.

Aman turned to where she had carried up cloths and some old, threadbare blankets from the night before.

"We need to sort out this junk," she said, "I'm sure there's no need for this."

Aman reached to the nearest pile and held up an object by way of example. Vanwe studied it.

"Aman, is that a squirrel?"

Aman looked at what she held. In her grasp was indeed a dust ridden grey squirrle that had been expertly stuffed and then stowed to moulder with the rest of the unwanted things in the attic. It stood on a wooden plith, tail all stiff and bushy, reared on it's two hind legs, large white teeth bared for all hazelnuts to quiver in fear from beyond the squirrel's grave. Aman suppressed a slight shudder at the hideous example of taxidermy she held aloft.

"Yes, yes it is Vanwe. This is why the attic simply must be cleaned."

Aman set the stuffed squirrel down, spread out an old blanket and placed the squirrel in the centre of the blanket.

"Any serviceable furniture or supplies for the inn we can set in that corner, the rest we can place here for removal," Aman said, scowling at the still defiantly rearing squirrel. Vanwe looked around the attic again.

"We may not have enough blankets... but I can rig up a pulley such as the one in the stable to get the junk down, Aman," Vanwe offered as she stepped closer to inspect another pile.

"We can arrange for Derufin to cart it down the stairs, Vanwe," Aman said as she added more to the squirrel's blanket. Vanwe straightened in surprise as Aman started to laugh and Vanwe felt her shoulders relax a little. Soon enough the blankets started to fill with all sorts of oddities, imaginable and otherwise.

"Aman, what is this" Vanwe asked more than once. Often, Aman would name it a mathom and roll her eyes. She had asked what a mathom is, to which Aman replied with habitual humour, "Noone knows, not even the hobbits who keep mathoms."

Before long, Vanwe had neatly distracted herself in all the fantastic new things she found in the attic. She found an irridescent green feather boa, which she had promptly tossed around her neck in a spontaneous show of her own humour. Aman looked up in surprise at the Elf woman, who sat covered in dust, face smudged, dust cloth tucked in her belt, worn blue dress with a trail of garrish feathers trailing around her neck and down her back.

"I like attics, Aman," Vanwe declared with a rare easy smile that cast her features into a new light. She twirled the end of her boa in emphasis.

"A little too much, perhaps," Aman retorted, which only caused Vanwe to smile all the more as she unwound the boa and added it to the growing pile of mathoms to be discarded. Vanwe turned back to the pile she was presently sorting through and started to hum once more, softly and gently as she explored the ordinary and extraordinary tableau of life in the Shire that had been gathered into the attic of the Green Dragon Inn.

[ June 12, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[littlemanpoet]

After Eodwine had spoken at length with Lespheria over breakfast, he excused himself, paid for his room and board, and bid farewell to the staff. He would be gone for a little while but would be back.

Eodwine left the inn and went to the stables to check on his horse. Somewhere between he barely avoided a decidedly nasty looking and smelling bit of refuse lying in the grass. Someone's breakfast must not have sat well, he mused, and went on.

Eodwine mounted his steed and horse and rider trotted west from Bywater. As the day wore on a Hobbit here and a Hobbit there from Hobbiton to Michel Delving saw a man and horse riding west. After Michel Delving he left the road and headed north into wild country.

OOC: I will be on vacation for a week. So I have absented myself from the RPG for an indefinite time.

[Child of the 7th Age]

When Vanwe and Aman trudged down the attic stairs carrying an assortment of "mathoms", Cami took off her bartending apron and came over to have a look. She stared at the items that were heaped up on the table and absently began to thumb through the piles. "Look at all this!" Cami rhapsodized, her fingers lovingly stroking the green feather boa while she stared approvingly at the rearing squirrel.

Aman had ducked behind the main counter to find herself and Vanwe a drink after all the hard work they had done. Without looking up, she casually said, "Yes, can you believe that useless stuff? Whoever would save so many things? We're going to put these in the trash. And there's a hundred times that many still upstairs. It'll take us days to get the place cleaned out, before we can even think of using a hammer or paintbrush."

Aman began fiddling with some flasks and bottles stored behind the counter. She picked out a nearby table, beckoning Cami and Vanwe to come join her, while she poured them some drinks.

The small hobbit didn't even bother sitting down. She gave the Innkeeper a look of pure exasperation, and cried out, "You can't be serious! You're going to throw out all these beautiful mathoms?" Cami hovered protectively over the feather boa and the assortment of other interesting items that the two women had discovered. "Why, these are valuable. Any hobbit in the Shire would absolutely die to own many of these amazing mathoms. I'm not going to let you throw them away!"

With that cry of defiance, Cami threw her body protectively over the nearest pile of treasures and glared over at Aman. She could never understand the attitude of the Big Folk when it came to mathoms. Even Piosenniel had been like that.

Cami was forever dragging in ten or twenty treasures that she'd picked up in various ways. Most were gifts from friends, but others were little things that folk had sold her over the back fence for a penny or two. Pio was always asking her to pick them up or find them a secure storage place, suggesting that the rooms would be tidier and more organized if it weren't for Cami's plethora of junk. Big folk just didn't understand how important it was for hobbits to live with all their lovely treasures surrounding them, even if they made the room a bit untidy.

Cami stood up and confronted Aman. "You can't just discard these. If you put them out back in the trash barrels, you might cause a riot. Every young hobbit in the area, and a few of the older ones as well, will be picking through the barrels and quarrelling over who gets to haul these treasures away."

Aman put her hand on her hip and stared back at the small hobbit who was defending her stash so vigorously. "Cami Goodchild, just what do you think I should do with all these things and the hundreds more we're going to find upstairs? The Inn will be buried under an assortment of junk, unless I find some way to get rid of them."

Don't worry about that," Cami assured Aman. "All the hobbits in the Shire will be pounding a path to the Dragon once they hear about the treaures that are here. Just put them in the storage shed for now. When you finish cleaning everything out, we'll set up tables in the courtyard and invite everyone to have a look. Then, for just a few pennies each, the hobbits who live nearby and own own guests will be able to purchase these treasures. Every one of them will find a loving home. I can promise you that. Hobbits are always looking for ways to increase their supply of mathoms."

Cami looked over at Aman, triumphantly beaming from ear-to-ear.

[ June 12, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

It was already bright outside when Gilly managed to open her eyes. She was not feeling well, not well at all. Once again she and Benia had stayed up until the early hours reminiscing. It was an enjoyable evening, but this morning she regreted the lost of sleep.

After Benia had retired to the chair, Gilly had decided that she had best read the letter she had been carrying in her pocket all day. Yet another thing she regretted. The handwriting on the envelope was her husband’s, and the news it held was rather trying, robbing her of any remnant of a peaceful night. She had spent the long hours formulating and refining a plan of action.

Couched in his finest writing, Carl had delicately, albeit in a characteristic round-a-bout way affected a major change in her domestic happiness. In brief, Carl’s sister and her family had decided to move from their home in Brandy Hall back to Bywater. This involved staying indefinitely with Carl and Gilly until suitable accommodations could be found, not an easy task. Much as Gilly adored her sister-in-law, the children were a wild lot and choice of husband downright peculiar. The whole house would need to be battened down to weather this storm successfully!

Gilly, slid out of bed, washed her face in the basin and padded across the floor to the parlor. Benia was not there.

Laying open on the floor next to the chair was Benia rucksack. Gilly could see the neatly folded items pushed to the side leaving a large space on the other. Behind the chair was a sheathed sword, and on the table Beania the Fair’s ring. What’s this? Gilly thought with an unexplainable sense of urgency. She rushed out the door, making her way to the commons room.

Blocking her way, various staff members were making their way from the staircase to a large table, burdened with what appeared to be the most wonderful gifts, though perhaps a mite dusty!

[ June 12, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman stared at Cami for a moment, then burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. The other two looked at her, mystified.

"Oh, its just the way you threw yourself over it, Cami, and..." She waved a hand at them. "Oh, ignore me. Light depravation maybe." She ducked back under the bar, handing Cami and Vanwe a tumbler each of the delightfully fizzy apple juice which she had found stored in the chilly larder. Cami reluctantly detached herself from the pile, but still sat between it and Aman. Aman shook her head, twirling a small stirring stick in the apple juice, smiling.

"Cami, I wasn't intending to throw it all away. When I first saw the attic, I did think there was bound to be some half valuable things in there- why do you think I was looking so closely. But these," she gestured with the stick at the sorry looking pile. "Do you think they will have any takers?"

Cami nodded, but less fiercely than before, still protective, but a new light in her eyes as she realised Aman didn't intend to throw it all away. She shifted slightly away from the pile and began to finger the boa gently, stroking it lovingly. Some things about hobbits, Aman thought, I will never understand. "I promise you Aman, none of this will go without a home."

Aman sipped the drink thoughtfully and absent-mindedly wiped a smear of dust from her cheek. "I think there are some real treasures up there-" She said slowly, before being cut off by Cami.

"Mathoms," the hobbit declared indignantly. "are treasures in their own right."

Aman regarded her for a short moment, then nodded. "Aye, have your mathoms then. 'Twill make some extra money for the Inn, and we will need that I wager for Pio's party. Could you find Buttercup and Ruby, Cami?" The hobbit nodded and cheerfully scurried off. "And we," Aman turned to Vanwe. "have some serious sorting to do."

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

The boy looked at Aleia warily and turned his back. Aleia sighed and muttered, "I suppose that's a 'no'." She turned about and made her way back to the bar. On the way she spotted Benia, who waved. Aleia waved back and thought, She must be leaving.

As she sat down, she set her coffee and toast upon the table. Then she wrapped herself in her cloak and sat there thinking quietly. After a while, she noticed the woman beside her looking quite lonely.

"Excuse me, miss," said Aleia, tapping the woman on the shoulder. "I am Aleia Took, of Tookland. I was wondering if you would like to chat for a bit with me." As she waited for the answer, Aleia noticed the woman hastily brush away a few strands of red hair.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Making her way around the room, Gilly spotted Aleia. Greeting her with a "good morning" she asked if she had seen Benia recently. The hobbit thought that she had seen her last go into the kitchen, but a quick look told Gilly that she was no longer there. The thought of her friend mysteriously disappearing was unsettling, but how long could she stay in one place with out feeling hemmed in? At least her things were still there, even if she herself was absent.

Aman, the innkeeper, and a fair looking southern woman were seated at a table of dusty items from upstairs. Vanwe was turning them over in the light and dusting them carefully while Aman sorted the finished pieces into three groups. Aman was commenting on their relative value and chuckling to herself.

Gilly approached, hesitant to interrupt what was obviously the preparation for some large and important party. “Excuse me, Miss Aman?” Gilly ventured. “I’m sorry to disturb your work, but do you recall having seen Miss Benia Nightshade this morning? I have looked about, but don’t seem to be able to locate her.”

“Oh, you’re hardly disturbing us!” Aman declared cheerfully. “We are just doing a little house cleaning.” The lady from Rohan quickly shifted one of the piles to the floor as Ruby and Buttercup appeared covered in cobwebs and with arms full.

“Miss Nightshade was here earlier asking where she would be able to find supplies for the next leg of her travels. Perhaps she has gone to make the purchase.” Pausing in her sorting, she looked at Gilly and offered, “I sent her in the direction of Heathertoe’s House goods and the farmer’s market, if it is of help.”

“Yes, thank you. It is,” the hobbit smiled. It was a relief to find that Benia had left of her own volition. Every fiber of Gilly’s muscles promptly relaxed. Stooping over she picked up one of the trinkets off the floor. “You aren’t going to dispose of these are you?” she asked looking up at the innkeeper.

A grin spread over Aman’s face. “You are a hobbit, and know about these matters,” she began. “Can you explain the merits of such stuff?”

Gilly stood up slowly, still holding the figure of a squirrel in her hand. If this cleans up well it would make a perfect gift for Sylvia’s husband, she thought before turning her attention to Aman’s question. Her mind searched inward as she tried to find the words for her opinions on mathom. “You know,” she finally said, “some things are of value because they are useful or beautiful. This you know. But mathom is valuable because it is interesting to look at or perhaps to think about, yet most is easy to give away, to share. You never know who may have owned these things though the years. These have certainly been passed around for generations!”

Aman shugged as Gilly set the squirrel down, lingering a bit to look at the wonderful treasures.

[ June 13, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[Talenyanica]

A chill shot through the room, awakening Talenyanica from her nightmares. She sat up slowly and looked over at hearth, as cold as she is. Talen starts to rise to start the fire anew, but stops and gazes out the window. So far from home, but even far in her heart it seems. She stiffles her tears as she pulls on a cloak, drawing the hood over her pointed ears and long blonde hair. She pulls on her boots as the first stars out to the east begin to flicker out like an old flame. Talenyanica runs out of the room and down the stars with nothing, but remorse.

She runs out to the stables behind the Inn and grabs her loving liverchestnut gelding. A thought crosses her mind of her beautiful mare that she had left at home. She could still here the old mares whinny in her mind, it was the heartshattering whinny she gave at being left by the elven princess.

Talenyanica burst out of the stables as the sun rises. She wises to greet her old friend that has watched over her everyday, but instead she turns the gelding towards the west and gallups off her old friend warming her back as she searches for what she does not yet know.

[ June 13, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Just so we're all on track here:

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

It is still morning of a pleasant summer day at the Inn.

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

[ June 13, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Nerindel]

Léspheria and Eodwine spoke of her bother and Fawain's plight most of the morning. Eodwine had seemed surprised that she had remained behind, until she explained that although she was proficient with a sword, words and healing were her gifts.

Eodwine had quizzed her for every detail, this worried her a little, she knew the man was seeking adventure but this was not what she would call an adventure. After Eodwine had finished his breakfast he excused himself, saying that he would be leaving this morning.

"Your not planning to journey to Annúminas, now are you?" she asked showing her concern. Eodwine looked at her then smiling mischievously, he shook his head "No, off course not! Why, I would not wish to be the cause of more worry to you my dear lady", with that he gently took her hand, kissed it softly and bid her farewell.

"Quel fara" (Good Hunting) she whispered as he left, for something in her heart told her that if Annúminas was not his course then this man would surely enter the wilds to look for his adventure.

After Eodwine left she cleared up his empty breakfast dishes and took them to the kitchen for washing as she entered the kitchen she was surprised to find only cook there. The hobbit woman was busy baking and the delightful smell of bread baking in the stove filled the room. "Where is everyone?" she asked as she washed up the breakfast dishes.

Vinca jumped "Oh, my dear what are you thinking Making me jump like that!" she scolded. "The other's are busy helping miz Aman to clear the attic, They intend to turn it into a few more much needed rooms" she continued, before Léspheria had time to apologise.

Lespheria lightly skipped over to picked up her apron saying "Then I best get to work, we can't have the guests going thirsty now, can we!" she laughed. she heard Vinca chuckle as she left her to her baking.

As she filled a fresh pitcher she saw Aman, Vanwe, Cami, Buttercup and Ruby rummaging though tables full of dusty oddities, the three hobbit woman were delighting at the wonders that they found as they wiped the dust from various long forgotten items.

As she turned to serve the various patrons who's mugs were drained, Vinca burst though the door with a tray in her hand, "Oh, Léspheria my dear you couldn't take this over to the ladies, I must catch the bread before it burns" Smiling she nodded and took the tray from the flustered woman's hands, as soon as the tray was in her own hands Vinca bolted back through the door shouting her thanks as she left.

The tray held Five mugs and a large cold pitcher of Iced mint tea, a plate full of cooks famed honey cakes and Five warm damp clothes, presumably so the five woman could clean their dusty hands and faces before enjoying their refreshments.

She slowly walked up to the table careful not to trip on the things that lay strewn about the floor. The Five woman were so busy that they didn't mark her presence until they heard the mugs clink together as she set the tray on the nearest empty table.


"Refreshments!" she smiled trying hard to bite back the laugh that was threatening to escape her lips at the sight before her, the five woman were covered from head to toe in dust.

"Are we having fun?" she laughed as the ladies picked up the damp cloth's and wiped the dust from their grimy hands and faces.

The three Hobbit women nodded profusely, causing herself, Aman and Vanwe to burst into fits of laughter.

[ June 13, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Snowdog]

(OOC: Sorry, especially to Elora & Ealasaid, for the lateness of my post. I will recap the time from where my character was 'last night'through 'today.)
----------------------------------------------

Silvanis sat silently upon a grassy knoll with Blackveil grazing nearby as the sun sank to twilight, and in a trance he went. The cooler breeze of the summer night approaching felt good as he decided to sleep there in the grass, but when its westerly breath paused, the heat filled the air, bringing memory of the Southern dunes and the Oasis Inn...

From inside the Green Dragon, the faint sound of dance could be heard, and Silvanis turned to the woman he slipped the stone to. The stone will either fill her with fear or memory, and it was his hopes she would know that not all that was evil remained evil after the downfall. Yet it will puzzle her to no end to wonder why he slipped it to her. For it is unknown to her that her veiled countenence and figure reminded him of a dancer away south, and now he wondered if she did that dance even now inside the Inn. Maybe it was the wandering gaze she had, really calling no place home, much like he. Maybe it was the mystery of her glance....

Silvanis restrained himself from getting up and going in, for he had no room there this night, but contented himself in listing to the faint tinkle of finger cymbals and the varying intensity of the music through the night air. It was partially in thought, partially in dream that he started to drift when the sounds ended.

It was the words of the woman from the stable that brought him to, for the sound of the southern reaches was in her voice as well. It was rare indeed that there be two from the south here, and rarer still an elf with the accents! Silvanis stirred and his hand reached for the pouch he silently scooped up in the stables earlier. He let her se it, but he slid it back, seemingly unknowing it was her notes and collections in the pouch. She spoke of Blackveil, who was a bit on edge at the approach of the woman, but remained calm.

Yes, she is a faithful friend and we respect each other. She is wary of all but me, unless she feels a comfort, like with this stablemaster here who managed to give her this fine grooming.'

She went on about matters Silvanis knew not of, and it was not his business to meddle one way or another and so let the dice fall as they may.

'You owe me no debt m'lady. I will be here ere the sun rises.'

And she wandered off in the darkness, Silvanis drifting off with the sound of the Inn wafting outto the opening and closing door.... ting-ting-tek-a-tek-ting-tek-a-tek .... A voice, low and sweet, began to sing a melody that haunted his dreams, and though intense and strange his dreams that night, he awoke to the dark blueness of the clear morning skies above, with only the brightest stars struggling against the ever-approaching sun.

Silvanis saw Blackveil still contentedly grazing nearby, and as he stood she came over. Reaching into the small satchel she carried, he took a strip of jerky to chew. For he was not going to spend another meal at the Inn. The food was good, but one could become complacent there, and so he readied Blackveil to ride. 'Iffn they only had some of that Khandese coffee bean that was making waves in Gondor these days'.... the aroma would draw him in, but for tea... no.

A thought came over him right then... If he could gain the ear of the Innkeeper, he would ask if they would be interested in trying some when he returned from the south seasons from now? The possibillities of introducing the halflings to a fine exotic brew that was way better than the local fare.... A rare smile broke across his face as he managed thoughts of trade... some pipeweed to take there, some good coffee to bring back... ah yes!

Silvanis stopped in front of the Inn, and entered to gain a mug of morning shire coffee to take with him, and he wondered where the woman Vanwe wished to discuss with him the night before...

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

(OOC: I will try to stay on top of the posts, but being away for a few daays or a week really gets one behind here.)

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

The woman shook her head and said softly, "No." Aleia nodded politely and turned back to her toast upon the table. "Not a day for friendliness," she muttered to herself. Finally finishing her breakfast, she pushed her stool back from the bar and went up to her room.

Upon reaching her room, Aleia packed her belongings back into her rucksack. She withdrew a few coins to pay for the board of her and her horse and the food she had consumed. She thumped down the stairs, paying the barkeep, and made her way to the stables. When Skeet saw her, he nickered and waited eagerly for a treat. She gave him a piece of carrot that had been hiding in her pocket and led him out of the stable, nodding to Derufin as she left. Aleia mounted Skeet and trotted off.

[alaklondewen]

Several minutes had past when Ruby came out of the kitchen with a plate piled high with bacon, eggs, and bread. Fanyarhir’s eyes widened at the sight. He had never eaten in the Shire before. “So what do you think?” Ruby asked smiling broadly as she set the plate on the table in front of him. She seemed to be enjoying Fanyahir’s shocked expression.

“Well…” He started not knowing exactly what to say. “I said I’d leave it in your hands, lady, and I think you’ve done wonderful job. Thank you.” Fanyahir smiled charmingly at Ruby, and she did a small curtsy and turned away.

The journey of the night before was lying heavily of Fanyahir. He was exhausted and the hot meal was wonderful. As he ate he watched the inn’s guests come and go. A variety of people filled the common room, and Fanyahir looked for a friendly face.

[Everdawn]

Oh well, i guess it is just like home, alone and ignored. Thought Madea sitting alone at her table. It was ironic, that everywhere seemed to echo the coldness of her fathers home.

Still she sat, pushing her black hair out of her face, watching the hobbits, men and elves make their way about the inn. So many elves... she stared at them in awe. It is like the stories say, they do put men to shame. she laughed. The hobbits to, were amazing to Madea.

But soon enought she grew bored. "Who would have thought freedom would grow so dull in so shorter time?" she said to no one.

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ smilies/smile.gif NOTICE OF NEW GAME OPENING smilies/smile.gif ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Manardariel, Sophia the Thunder Mistress, and Nurumaiel invite you to look at their new RPG:

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Corsairs and Corsets ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~.

~*~*~ Discussion Thread to open 06/16 – Monday - 0730 Pacific Daylight Time ~*~*~

Please read this Discussion Thread thoroughly; develop an interesting character to play from the “Characters Needed” list; and then write a First Post for your character, to be submitted with the Character Description. Here it is! (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000082)

[Dorelnar]

Chrestienne, what a nice name, thought Dorelnar to himself. A story must dwell around one with such a name but of course the story must wait till the maiden had finished her meal.

Dorelnar looked around the table trying to get a sense of the feelings and what he had missed. Something had happen between Soronume and Niniel, but what. There was something...No Soronume was too good at masking what he was thinking, nothing was showing on his face. On Niniel's face, well she seemed to be beaming. The pair got up to go to the bar. Yes, something had changed!

But then so had many things. The Lady Elwen was no exception. She seemed different, something about the way she sat, the way she played with her hair, as if this was just a moment not worth worring about. She still retained her sparkle though, that light that followed her where ever she went. Dorelnar smiled to himself, recalling memories of nights long past below the stars and the moon, in clearings still and secret. What a change this place made. No where in his search had Dorelnar ever found a place like this. But then never before had he found the Lady Elwen.

Dorelnar's thoughts seemed to float around him. He could see them, like smoke, they twirled around the heads of the others seated at the small table in the corner by the fire. He sparkled with different colours and shades. Some dark and heavy, thoughts not to be disturbed where they lay sleeping; others bright and glistening. What tales of joy and happiness they left behind them.

And through the thoughts the Lady Elwen's light seem to shine through all. Making the light thoughts sparkle and the dark thoughts lighter. She really was a light to him in darkness and in shade, even his thoughts could sense it!

Dorelar shut his eyes, only to open them moments later to see the Lady Elwen looking at him; smiling.

[arelendil]

A maiden of the stars. "Indeed, I am." laughed Elwen, "But how did you know? A keen eye you must have to spot the little things that make me different from Soronume. Few ever notice the difference, too concerned in there own thoughts and life, I suppose."

Elwen smiled at Dorelnar. He seemed to be thinking or at least watching his thoughts float by.

"Why do you ask?" spoke Elwen again to the maiden Chrestienne. "Is there a question you have of me or was it just a passing comment? Few have ever commented on the nature of myself."

What a lovely person this maiden seemed to be. What was it that had made her join them at their table in the corner Elwen wondered. It was odd that so many had joined them in such a short length of time. Not that it mattered. Elwen loved people, especially those she didn't know. They always provided something new and different!

Elwen brushed her dark hair out of her face and flicked it behind her shoulder, before continuing to play with the loose strands that hung in her face, slowly twisting them around her slender fingers.

[ June 14, 2003: Message edited by: arelendil ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman smoothed down the new dress she had just put on, doing up the last of the buttns at the back. She had done up to her room to change into a clean dress, for the other one was now dusty and dirty, and had aquired a small rip catching on the odd instrument which Cami had pronounced to be a seed sower the first time they had come into the attic but, judging by its fierceness and its attitude towards Aman's dress, which Aman was becoming more and more sure was a long lost item of torture. When her dress had ripped, Vanwe had semmed very upset, saying to Aman that she would fix it, that she could handle a needle and thread. Aman had shushed her, confused, saying she would mend it herself. She couldn't help wondering why Vanwe had been so upset. Her own dress was patched many times, and was quite worn. Aman made a note that at the next event in the Shire when there was a possibility of presents being given, and there were plenty in the Shire, to bear Vanwe in mind.

She ran her hands over the treasure she had found in the attic, now draped across a large trunk at the foot of her bed, her fingers running over its soft folds, its texture almost silky. Not everything in there had been rubbish, and Aman had made a few finds which she was sure would attract even the non-Hobbit customers of the Inn, but she had smuggled one away to her room. The dress was dove grey underneath the dust, darker now with water, for Aman had washed it quickly to remove the dirt, curious to see what it was like cleaned up. A low, square neck, comely on herself, was lined with black, and the dress's sleeves were also very fancy, sloping and becoming wider, and ending at the elbow. Aman reckoned it would be worn with an undergarment of some kind, with full length sleeves which would run beneath and then out of the shorter sleeves of this dress. More importantly, it was human sized. Aman had no idea of how it had come to be in the attic, but it had been quite far back, and the original owner had certainly forgotten about it. She picked up the dress, trying it against herself in the mirror, and smiled. Vanwe was about her size, and this dress would fit her. The girl seemed to love pretty clothes, such as the feather boa, and Aman figured that if she was given a dress such as this, she would be delighted. And she intended to do so as soon as an oppurtunity presented itself.

The sound of Cami's voice reminded Aman that she should have been downstairs already. Carefully draping the dress across the trunk once more, she locked her door and went downstairs.

In the doorway of a side room leading off from the common room, Cami stood, a fierce expression on her face and a broom clutched in her hands as she shooed away the inquisitive denizens of the Inn (a crowd with an exceptional amount of hobbits straining forward particularly hard, Aman noticed). Aman pushed her way gently through the crowd, murmering apologies as she made her way to the door. Cami stepped back to let her through and a few hobbits attempted to rush their way through. Cami immediately sprang back into position, broom a-brandished.

Shutting the door, Aman breathed a sigh of relief at having escaped the masses, and looked around. Inside the room, piles of attic jumble were being sorted into various piles according to what they were. They were, however, several piles simply marked 'Mathoms'.

"Seems mathoms are even more highly valued than I though." She remarked, as the sound of Cami's authoritive, schoolteacher-like voice came from the other side of the door.

"You can't imagine, Miz Aman." The muffled voice came from behind a pile of furniture, and Cook unearthed herself. "Even I had to fight my way through."

The other sorters consisted of Vanwe, Buttercup and another who Aman vaguely recognised as Gilly, as well as another, Madea who had apparently been conscripted to help. There was a thump on the door and Aman jumped back, opening it slightly, then fully as she saw who it was.

"Feeling better, Derufin?" She inquired. The man certainly looked less sorry for himself as he brushed himself down, but glanced behind him at the closed door with a hunted look.

"They seem to have formed a mob!"

"Something to do with the wonders of mathoms."

"Mathoms?"

Aman shrugged, then beckoned him forward. They each chose a pile. "No doubt Vinca will explain as we go along. They have great value apparently."

"Apparently? Ooh, Miss Aman!" Vinca's voice was indignant. Aman grinned over a pile of toys.

"My apologies, Cook. Come on, we need to get this little lot sorted and ready for airing in the form of a jungle sale as soon as possible- before they get rabid and start calling for our blood!"

[Ealasaid]

Anxious to purchase the supplies for her upcoming journey, Benia crossed the courtyard of the Green Dragon at a quick pace. She was still puzzling over the fear in the eyes of the elflady she had encountered in the kitchen, and even more flummoxed by the sweeping bow the lady had delivered. Benia had not seen a bow like that delivered anywhere outside of Far Harad. But, what would an elf have been doing in Harad? And what reason would she have to fear Benia? Benia glanced up at the windows of the inn and, to her surprise, caught a fleeting glimpse of the elflady's face, watching her from an upstairs window. The face vanished abruptly. Biting her lip in contemplation, Benia turned to go. She was so absorbed in concentration that she nearly walked right under the hooves of an approaching Ranger's horse.

The Ranger reined his gray stallion to the side, and Benia apologized politely, barely looking at his hooded face. Instead, her eyes were caught by the sudden subtle movement of his gloved hand toward something at the front of his saddle. Just then, Gilly burst out the front door of the inn.

"Benia!" she gasped, just a little out of breath. "There you are! I was hoping to catch you, but then I got caught up just a little bit in the kitchen. They have the most wonderful collection of mathom on display! They must be planning a marvelous party."

The man's hand stopped in it's motion and returned casually to his side. Benia turned toward the sound of Gilly's voice, a smile breaking out on her face.

"You hobbits and your mathom!" she joked. "How would you ever get on without it?"

"Of course, you wouldn't understand," answered Gilly. "Always moving about the way you do. But we hobbits know what tremendous value there is in mathom. Not monetary, of course --" she added with a nervous glance at the Ranger. "But it is very valuable nonetheless."

At that, the Ranger turned his gray horse and proceeded toward the inn's stableyard. Warily, Benia watched his retreating back. There was something familiar about him, as if she had seen him before somewhere. It's probably nothing, she told herself, just as it had been nothing with the other one, the one she had suspected of giving her the red stone. Nonetheless, something about this one made her thankful that she was soon to be leaving the Shire. When Benia turned her attention back to Gilly, she found her friend watching the Ranger as well.

[ June 14, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Ealasaid]

Kaldir went to the Inn of the Green Dragon because it had come to his attention that there was a Southern lady, a desert lady of Far Harad, staying there. His spy had even seen the intricate tattoos of her hands that identified her as a lady of the Painted Sand tribe. She would bring a good price. There were still those in the world who remembered the arrogance of the Painted Sand people, and they paid well for their revenge. Evidently, this woman had not made any effort to keep her presence a secret, even being so silly as to favor the common room with a song in her own dialect. The only thing she could have done to draw more attention to herself, thought Kaldir, was to deliver a dance with a sword balanced across the crown of her head. Kaldir smiled as he turned his horse into the courtyard of the inn. Foolish as she seemed, this one would be an easy catch.

For a fleeting instant, Kaldir could scarcely believe his luck. He had no sooner turned his horse into the courtyard than here the lady came, buried in thought and walking almost directly into his arms! He should seize her right there and then, Kaldir told himself, just bind her up, toss her across the back of his saddle and be gone. His hand moved slowly in the direction of the rope he carried looped across his saddle horn. Just then, a hobbit lady burst out the front door of the inn, calling the desert lady by name and babbling some nonsense about mathom. Kaldir's hand stopped and returned to his side. Too bad! he thought to himself, but he was not about to take his quarry right in front of the hobbit lady. All he needed was for her to sound the general alarm, and quicker than he could say peas and potatoes he would find himself surrounded by forty angry hobbitmen brandishing pikes and hoes. Hobbits were small and, for the most part, pretty silly in his eyes, but they could be a fierce lot when they had their backs up. Well, later, he promised himself. The desert lady carried no luggage. She would be back.

He turned his horse and continued through to the inn's stableyard.

[ June 14, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Nurumaiel]

The door opened and a young woman stepped in, throwing back her hood as she did so. She gave a quick glance around the room, then turned and gave a nod to someone standing just outside the door. Her brown eyes flickered in the light from the open window as she entered the common room, a man behind her. The woman was dressed in a brown dress that fell loosely about her and matched her hair and eyes perfectly. The man was also dressed in brown, and his eyes and hair were of the same color as her own.

Nobody paid much attention to them. It was quite true that neither of them were very handsome, but the man had a noble, wise look about him, and the woman a kind, graceful look. Those who could see past outer looks noticed this, and their eyes lit up. Most just ignored them, for they had seen many people come and go at the inn.

"Ruddyn, shall we find a table so we can speak?" the woman said in a low voice. "There is much to talk about."

"No, sister, that would not do," the man replied. "For though shouting out in a loud voice would raise much attraction, to go to a quiet corner and speak dark secrets would bring suspicion to those who may see us. No, Fendadia, I do not think we should do that just yet."

The woman gestured to the counter and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Then shall we go order a drink, meet the innkeeper, and perhaps some of the guests? For it is still morning, and we have much time to talk over things." Without waiting for an answer, she went up to the counter to order a drink.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

“Is it someone you know?” Gilly whispered quietly, staring at the Ranger crossing the yard.

“I’m not certain,” Benia replied, her instincts surfacing despite her relaxed manner. “Come, let us go inside and put these things away. At the moment I feel it would be a good thing to have my hands free!” She said lifting her arms slightly to show the bundles she carried.

“Ah, foolish me! Here, let me help you.” The hobbit said freeing Benia right arm of its burdens. “Begging your pardon Miss Benia, Ranger or no, his going about all cowled like that, on a hot summer’s morning, he’s up to some mischief, he is!”

“Yes Gilly, I agree. But let us not stand here and wait for him to come follow us in the door, unless you intend to invite him to second breakfast in order to discover his plans!”

With that they headed indoors, weeding their way though the throng of treasure seeking hobbits crowding the door. Benia looked questioningly at Gilly with one arched eyebrow. “Early party goers?” she inquired.

“No just the curious, the stingy and the well informed! Isn’t that right Mrs. Bunce?” she asked patting a middle-aged hobbit on the back.

“Too, right, I expected! But tell me Miss Gilly, which am I?” The hobbit returned.

“All of course!” Gilly said jokingly. “Benia, I’d like you to meet my neighbor, Mrs. Myrtle Bunce. Myrtle, this is a dear old friend of my family’s, Miss Benia, friend of hobbits.”

“Well met!” Myrtle said taking Benia tattooed hand. “Any friend of Gilly’s must be alright. You must stop by for tea and meet my family!”

“Yes, thank you,” the desert woman replied, anxious to get inside. With a nod and a polite smile she took her leave and passed though the door wishing her eyes would adjust quicker after the bright sunny day outside. She must move quickly.

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Aleia returned to the inn after a refreshing ride through Bywater. A few hobbits had given her odd looks, but when they saw she was of their kind they smiled at her and waved.I have forgotten how charming these hobbits are! Aleia thought, and smiled and waved back.

Upon riding through the courtyard, she spotted Gilly chatting with another hobbit. She waved and called "Hello!", and Gilly called and waved back. When she reached the stables, Aleia gave Skeet to Derufin, who grinned and said, "Back so soon?"

"I just couldn't stay away," Aleia called over her shoulder. She re-entered the inn and said to the barkeep, "I'd like to have the same room as before, please."

"Thought you were leaving, what with your 'sack all packed up. Why'd you change your mind?"

"Oh...I just felt like staying a little longer," she answered. When she got up to her room, she eased her rucksack off of her back and sighed, rotating her shoulders, glad to be rid of the weight. Aleia went back downstairs into the Common Room and sat down, ordering an ale. As she gladly gulped it down, she noticed a dark-haired lass sitting by herself at a table.

"Might as well try for some company one last time," she muttered, and got up. Aleia approached Madea and said, for the third time that day, "Would you like to chat with me a bit, lass?"

[Delian]

Any hobbit sitting anywhere could easily be overlooked, but a tall human even in the darkest corner and wearing a grey cloak could be all but overlooked anywhere in the Shire. The man in the corner was no exception.

"Who is he" asked Drogo.
"I don't know but he hasn't ordered a drink all night, all he's done is sit there and watch other customers." replied the bartender.

[ June 15, 2003: Message edited by: Delian ]

[Delian]

Noticing (from the bartenders comment) that he didn't fit in as well as he did in the Prancing Pony ordered his first drink after the six hours that he had been there.

"One beer." he said softly when the bartender came by.

"Oh! He speaks! I for myself was startin to think you were mute." answered the hobbit.

"Not mute, just waiting."

"Who are you waiting for? I can check and see if they are here."

"Well let's just say I'm waiting for something, not someone."

[Talenyanica]

SAVED for reworked post.

Please see your PM's (Private Messages)

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Everdawn]

Madea was still nervous of her new found freedom. The Girl bushed another lock of black hair over her shoulder as someone came to talk to her. A hobbit. "OH!" Madea cried out in surprise, im really very sorry, i diddnt see you!"

"Would you like to chat?"

Madea smiled, "Why not, it had been such a long time since i had a real conversation. My name is Madea, Madea Obisentauri. I have come to the shire.. well, i seem to have run away, really havent I?" she laughed nervously as she glanced around the Inn, she saw so many men with weapons, Which made her even more nervous.

"What about yourself, i am afraid i dont know your name."

[Cerulean Fire]

Chrestienne smiled as Elwen pushed back her hair. "It was more a passing comment than anything else," she said after taking another bite. "You just feel different than Soronume."

She glanced around the table, refreshing her memory of faces and names. Dorlenar looked particularly thoughtful. Chrestienne wondered idly about his thoughts, for he looked troubled indeed. Soronume looked totally at ease, Niniel positively glowed sitting next to him. Mardath was being obnoxious, and she was beginning to think that was his usual modis operandi.

With a contented sigh, she pushed her plate a short distance away from her and turned her attention once again to Niniel. "I'm very sorry to ask you to repeat yourself, but I have forgotten the question you asked me earlier."

[Nerindel]

Léspheria was once again ducking behind the bar to refill the pitcher she carried. She turned the tap in the keg but nothing came out, "empty!" a puzzled frown crossed her brow, Buttercup hadn't shown her how to tap the kegs. She looked from the keg to the tap to the staff who were busily running back and forwards with arms full of various Mathoms as Cami had called them. 'Oh! how hard can it be, I have seen it done many times'.

She rolled the empty keg down to the cellar and brought up a fresh one, heaved it to were the empty one had previously sat, then picked up the tap and a small wooden mallet that sat under the bar. "OK here goes!" She placed the tap against the keg , closed her eyes and hit it as hard as she could with the mallet.

She opened her eyes pleased to see that the tap had gone in, but as she held the tap she could feel a pressure building behind it, She looked wildly around for one of the staff, she had no idea what to do now, she wasn't aware this would happen


As she pushed to keep the tap in, thinking the pressure would break her arm, a young man clad in brown leaned deftly across the bar and put his strong hand around the tap and with his other hand slowly turned the tap, "Mug" he urged smiling pleasantly. She did as he asked. Picking up the mug she pushed it under the new tap, at first only a dark frothy foam spluttered and splurted forth from the tap, then the dark nut brown ale ran smoothly into the mug. The stranger then turned the tap off, "there, you forgot to release the pressure" he smiled.

Léspheria looked into the deep brown eyes of the man who had just aided her, she saw a noble wisdom about him, even though his outward appearance was very average. "Thank you, kind sir" She smiled back "I shall have to remember that for next time" she blushed slightly.

Remembering her manners she put her delicate pale hand out to him "My name is Léspheria", Seeing his puzzled expression, at an elven maid working in an inn in the shire, she continued " I am helping out in the inn for a time, as you can see the staff are presently preoccupied." she swept her other hand across to indicate the Four hobbit women, Aman the Red headed Rohirrim innkeeper, Vanwe, another Elf and Deufin the handyman all busily cleaning and airing various items for a jumble sale. "But I will be happy to help you, if I can."

"My name is Ruddyn and this is my sister Fendadia" he said indicating the young woman that sat patiently beside him, as Léspheria turned to greet the woman, her eyes widened in surprise the woman was so obviously his sibling they looked so alike she was suprised she had not noticed before.

She was herself much like her own brother in looks, but they were twins. Looking at the pair she was almost certain that Ruddyn was older than his sister.

Pushing her dark long braid off her shoulder she waited patiently for the pair to order. Her grey elven eyes sparkled in the light of the late morning sun shinning through a nearby window.

[spirit_detective]

The figure walked into the busy inn, her blue eyes almost shining from beneath her hood. Noticing the stares from the onlookers, she smiled confidently and answered the quizzical looks.

"Pardon the intrusion." she walked over to a far table and sat down, placing her sword upon the wooden surface. A maid walked hesitantly up to her.

"We don't have any ale but-"

"Tea will be fine thank you." As she leaned back in her chair, she noticed the maid still standing there. She opened one glowing eye.

"You need something?"

"Your name might be something nice to start out with."

She chuckled to herself. "Aranti."

The maid nodded with a smile and turned to laeve. Aranti drew her hood back revealing short feiry red hair that flipped out at the ends. (My hair comes down slightyl below my ears.) Sighing contently, she looked around at the other tables. Most hand gone back to what they had been doing, but others were still giving her glances. She meerly shook off their gazes and waited for ehr tea.

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

To refresh everyone's memory:

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.

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

At present it is still morning in the Shire - a warm, summer's morning, to be exact.

[piosenniel]

Please do not attach any 'chatty' messages to the ends of your posts - use your PM's (Private Messages) if you wish to speak with another writer in the Inn.

No OOC (Out Of Character) comments either, please, except as directions by the Moderators and the Innkeeper.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Ealasaid]

Benia, half-blinded by the sharp contrast between the bright sunlight out of doors and the darkness of the interior of the inn, made her way through the throng of curious hobbits to the stairs. She was in a hurry to get out of the common area to the safety and privacy of her own room. Her encounter in the courtyard with the cloaked man on the gray horse had set her nerves on edge. She did not trust him and had a feeling that the more distance she put between herself and him, the better. Her arms loaded down with parcels, the provisions for her upcoming journey, she took the stairs quickly.

Unfortunately for her, in the excitement and confusion of emptying the attic of its treasures, one of the employees of the inn had dropped a pewter tankard on the stairs just below the landing. Benia's foot landed squarely upon it, and, the next thing she knew, she was airborne. She landed at the bottom of the stairs with a loud thump, her right leg bent under her at an awkward angle. Parcels scattered everywhere, and she became instantly aware of a ragged pain racing up her body from the pinned ankle.

"No!" she groaned bewteen clinched teeth. "No, no, no..."

[Nurumaiel]

Ruddyn gave Léspheria a little bow. "It is my pleasure to help, m'lady," he said. "And I would like to comment on your thoughtfulness to help those of the inn when they are already being overworked by the numerous amount of guests here." Léspheria, being an Elf, could not help but notice the different meaning in his speech as he mentioned the guests.

"Perhaps you and your sister would like a room where you can speak without fear of being overheard?" she asked as delicately as she could.

Ruddyn laughed and grasped her hand in a friendly, thanking matter. "You are too kind for words, m'lady," he said. "But no, I feel that we shall be quite content to speak here, as long as we can find some quiet corner to sit." He quick eyes observed one or two, though it seemed most of them were already taken by those who wished to be in silence. He turned back and saw that Fendadia was asking him a silent question with her eyes. He gave a little nod and pointed with his own eyes towards a table unoccupied with hardly anyone sitting near it. The one problem was that it was right next to the counter, but Ruddyn did not consider the staff of the inn as gossipy.

He told her in the silent way they had learned to understand, by making movements with his hands and letting his thoughts show through his eyes. Fendadia nodded, but spoke softly, "Being near the counter, many will come to order rooms, drinks, and meals."

"We will handle that when it comes to it," said Ruddyn in reply. He turned back to Léspheria with a word of apology, and then began his order. "I would like just a simple ale," he said. He glanced quickly at Fendadia.

"Brother, you act as though you fear I am too young to drink ale," she said with a merry laugh. "An ale for me as well, Lady Léspheria."

[Snowdog]

As a warm mug of morning brew was handed to Silvanis, he slid a coin across the bar to pay for it, and he turned to look about the common room for Vanwe. Not seeing her, but instead noticing a young dark-haired girl sitting alone at a table, seemingly eying everyone and seeming unsure of all the armed folk. Silvanis brushed back his dark, greying locks and sipped some coffee when the woman of the south came in with an armload of boxes. Surely she noted little in the darkness, and as she made way for the stairs, a cry and noise went up...

...the boxes went all over, and everyone turned to the commotion, and the woman was on the floor writhing in pain and saying something un-intelligible. Silvanis instinctivly left the bar and was there, seeing if she was alright after such a twisting fall. Seeing her weight bent back her leg, he lifted her off her leg to see if she could straighten it. Silvanis said to her,

'With one filled with such grace as to dance, You need to be much more careful.'

He went to look at her ankle but she jerked it away. He looked at her again and said,

'I just wish to see if you broke it m'lady. Fear me not.'

His blue-grey eyes locked with hers for a moment as he could see much pain and also doubt...

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ smilies/smile.gif NOTICE OF NEW GAME OPENING smilies/smile.gif ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Manardariel, Sophia the Thunder Mistress, and Nurumaiel invite you to look at their new RPG:

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Corsairs and Corsets ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~.

~*~*~*~*~ Discussion Thread is now open to take on players. ~*~*~*~*~

Please read this Discussion Thread thoroughly; develop an interesting character to play from the “Characters Needed” list; and then write a First Post for your character, to be submitted with the Character Description. Here it is! (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000082)

[Enif]

When Enif woke up it was already late in the morning. She had spent the night in a shelter buy the road, fortunately the weather was good that night. Now the sun had already risen , the day was hot and a mild breeze blew on her face. Though it was a sunny day, there wasn’t enough sun to light her face beneath her dark and weathered hood and cloak, she was exhausted and she carried the marks of a long and dangerous journey.
The sight of that friendly inn lifted her heart a bit and a slight grin filled her face. Once she stepped in, the talking and laughing filled her ears and now she smiled openly, it almost sounded like music to her. Nobody seemed to have noticed her. Enif threw back her hood revealing her long black silky hair, her skin darkened by the sun, her shy black eyes. Finally, she walked across the room and sit on an empty table, it was then when some noticed her presence she answered the inquisitive glances with a grin. A few minutes latter the maid came up to her table:

“So, what will it be?” Asked the maid smiling.
“A sip of ale would be nice.” She answered also smiling.

And the maid walked away…
Enif looked around still a little nervous...

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: Enif ]

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

"Run away?" Aleia tsked. "That just won't do. When you run away (or decide to be a traveller), you get into the most awkward situations. Like being caught sleeping in a farmer's field and having to gallop off half-asleep."

Madea giggled and said, "Sometimes you must do these things. Your name?"

"Ah, yes. I am Aleia Took, hailing from Tookland, from our fair Shire. I chose to be a traveller when I was younger," she said, pausing to chuckle reminiscently. "Not exactly the smartest thing to do. I went out into the world without the slightest idea of what it would be like. Looking back on it, I should have asked my cousin Peregrin for pointers. Unfortunately, I was stubborn and thought naught of it. I got into many a scrape before I thought of arming myself," here she revealed her bow and quiver full of arrows. "I have spent only a few years as a traveller, but I learned a lot."

"However, that is quite enough about me to last for a while. What of you, Madea?"

[Tinuviel of Denton]

"I'm very sorry to ask you to repeat yourself, but I have forgotten the question you asked me earlier."

Niniel laughed a bit at that. Her thoughts had been wandering, daydreaming. "Well, so--so have I. I--I haven't been pay--paying much atten--attention." She blushed a little, and looked away from Soronume, who didn't seem to notice.

Mardath laughed heartily. "An' we all of us ken why, don't we, lass?" Soronume rolled his eyes and started to say something, then thought better of it, as it wasn't in keeping with good manners.

[piosenniel]

Notice of time inching ahead in the Inn:

This Inn-day started on June 7th. It is now June 16th, and the Inn is still in the morning hours.

Can everyone who needs to do a post concerned with "today's" morning activities please get it in before tomorrow evening, June 17th.

I will then move the timeline in the Inn ahead to the afternoon hours.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Ealasaid]

Tears of pain welled up in Benia's amber eyes as she straightened her skirts and tried to move her leg. A fresh arc of pain shot through her limb, forcing her to abandon the attempt. She muttered a phrase of frustration and anger in her desert dialect and slapped a hand down hard on the nearest of her scattered parcels. It couldn't be happening! Not now. Not when it was so important for her to be mobile. She tried again at moving her injured leg.

Just then, two strong hands took hold of her shoulders and lifted her off the leg, setting her back down again more comfortably on the floor. She looked up in horror, half-expecting to see the hooded man from the courtyard. To her surprise, her eyes landed instead on the face of the Man in the Doorway, as she had come to think of him, the Ranger she had suspected of slipping her the red stone.

"With one filled with such grace as to dance, you need to be much more careful," his deep voice chided her.

Gently, he took hold of her ankle.

Nervously, Benia tried to jerk it away, which only brought a new jolt of pain and fresh tears to her eyes.

"I just wish to see if you broke it, m'lady. Fear me not," he told her, still speaking softly to her as though she were a child or a frightened mare. She looked up at him and, for an instant, his blue-gray eyes and her amber ones locked. Instinctively, she relaxed.

"There was something on the stairs," she murmurred. "I lost my footing."

The Ranger nodded. "We'll have to get this boot off. Can you help me, m'lady?"

Benia flushed crimson, but nodded. It was hardly seemly to be sitting there on the floor with a strange man pulling her boot off, but she knew he was right. The boot had to come off. She grit her teeth, determined not to whimper or cry out. It was painful, but between the two of them, they finally manged to work the boot off without cutting the leather. The ankle had already swollen to a tremendous size and had gone a deep shade of violet.

For a moment, the Ranger gently prodded the soft tissue of her ankle, before shaking his head. "I'm sorry, m'lady. It appears to be broken. We should send for a doctor."

"No doctor," Benia said softly. Doctors were expensive. She had just spent the majority of her remaining money on provisions for a journey that would now not be taking place. She didn't know whether to be angry or relieved about that part of it, but she knew that if she wanted to keep a roof over her head, a doctor was out of the question.

She looked up again into the Ranger's blue-gray eyes. "But I forget myself. You have been so kind. The least I can do is introduce myself. My name is Benia Nightshade. I am forever in your debt, kind sir." She smiled and raised a hand to wipe a tear of pain from the corner of her eye before it broke free and ran down her cheek in a streak of black kohl.

[Elora]

The arrival of Derufin gave Vanwe the idea that perhaps she could be spared long enough to catch some of the morning. She missed the sky.

"Aman, I think we need more dust cloths. These have seen hard service already. I shall fetch them," she added as Aman made a move towards the door herself.

With a glance in the direction of the swarming hobbits, Vanwe added with a small smile, "I doubt I am any match for their enthusiasm should they espy what we have here."

The Elf gestured at the piles yet to be sorted, and with a wry grin excused herself. She paused to give a smile to Derufin, who seemed much improved. He was not green, for instance. The wooden crane was still tucked behind her belt, she discovered as she patted it to be sure. Perhaps, if he continued to feel better it would not be too dangerous to give it to him if she did not make too much of a nuisance of herself in other ways.

Anticipation of the summer blue sky carried her down stairs and into the crush of the commonroom. Vanwe darted through the crowd and emerged through the door rubbing her hands on her dirty skirts, oblivious for the most to those she passed in the popular inn and determinedly making her way to the door.

She gained that with a small sigh of relief that stopped on her lips as she saw Benia sitting on the outter steps, Silvanis with her and the two in close conversation. Vanwe froze where she was, unsure of whether to proceed or otherwise. Instinct made her scan the yard beyond the pair. No Haradian mercenaries stood with rope and chain in hand.

Vanwe reluctantly stepped forward, knowing that she would need space to escape should she need to. Such could not be found within the doorway or crowded commonroom. Silvanis looked up as she moved, and Vanwe heard Benia insist, "No doctor!"

Closer inspection revealed the Southern woman had lost her boot, and Silvanis's hands were occupied with her ankle. Vanwe had seen enough broken ankles to recognise the injury swiftly. This was either an elaborate ruse or genuine. Vanwe had not heard of any mercenary willing to break an ankle, or work with another for that matter.

On light feet, rubbing her hands free of dust on her skirts, Vanwe crossed and warily bowed. Not entirely sure what had prompted her to do this, Vanwe found herself offering assistance.

"It is broken," she observed to which both Silvais and Benia nodded in confirmation.

"Your ankle cannot be left like that... I may be able to help, though I am no doctor. We must act swiftly, before the shock of numbness wears off."

Vanwe spread her hands, stretching long fingers that seemed happiest when occupied. Ailments and injuries had been the one of the few ways Vanwe had managed to keep her hide in one piece, even if she was suspected of bringing such misfortunes upon the villagers she would tend to. She had not the skill of a doctor, but she had a light and firm touch, and an innate sense for the rightness of things, such as how a bone should be set, a poultice blended, a piece of wood worked.

Aware that she could very likely be aiding people who may yet undo her, Vanwe stood on the stairs at a loss as to why she was even there, and mind working as to where she could locate the necessary items to see to the broken ankle.

She breathed the scent of the morning in, watching the day unfold around her. Conscious of those who she had left waiting turned and headed back for the inn, detouring to wash face and hands free of smeared dust. Vanwe was still shaking small droplets of water free as she walked back through the door. Pre-occupied with the growing number of horses needing tending, she made for the bar. That was where the store of rags was kept.

Vanwe was good at being unnoticeable. She slipped through to the end, ducked beneath the counter and extracted a few more rags. It was not until she had stood, still folding a final cloth that she realised Benia and Silvanis were nearby, together.

Vanwe stilled for a moment, eyes going wide in an instant as speculation flashed through them. She hesitated an instant longer and took the two in. Benia appeared injured

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Finally extricating herself from her neighbor Mytle’s long and rather tedious discourse on Carl’s and the children’s activities at home, Gilly gained the door. She had assumed that Benia would make her way to her rooms in order to evade the newly arrived Ranger she had seen in the yard. Following this line of reasoning, the petite hobbit wasted no time in the commons room, but made her way blindly through; eyes slowly adjusting as she went.

Nearing the turn by the stair and catching sight of the hem of Benia’s skirts and one of her boots, empty. She stopped short of the corner. On the opposite wall, towering over the faint shadow of her friend was another shadow. Gilly quickly began searching the packages that she was still carrying for something that could be used to fend off an attack. Settling on a cast ladle she quietly drew closer, not even noticing the wet floor on her bare feet.

“I just wish to see if you broke it m'lady. Fear me not,” a man was saying as he tired to examine Benia’s ankle.

Gilly relaxed her grip, sighing with relief that the ladle was not immediately needed.

Aware of someone behind him Silvanis glanced over his shoulder at the hobbit. “Your friend has taken a fall it seems, but I cannot persuade her to let me send for a doctor.”

"It is broken," observed Vanwe as she approached. "Your ankle cannot be left like that...I amy be able to help, though I am no doctor. We must act swiftly, before the shock of numbness wears off."

A slight pang went though Gilly as she recognized Silvanius from Benia’s first day at the inn. But feeling a rather desperate need to get Benia off the floor and out of the hallway without drawing the attention of the other guests, Gilly replied, “Perhaps she would feel more at ease in her own rooms. Could you kindly help us?”

She hoped that she wouldn’t, but catching Benia glance she was already regretting the request.

[ June 17, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[Ealasaid]

Upon entering the stableyard, Kaldir found the stables full and the stableman absent. He dismounted anyway and tied his horse to a hitching post in the yard. Such a full stable boded a full inn, which meant the likelihood of his getting a room would be slim. Well, that was okay, too. He would have liked a little privacy, but he had slept in worse places than a common room or a hayloft. He took the rope off of his saddle horn and, after widening the loop of it, slung it across his broad shoulder. One could never be too sure when opportunity might present itself again. He walked across the yard and entered the inn.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the muted light inside. Directly ahead of him lay the bar, where an elven lady was serving drinks. Kaldir moved in that direction.

He pushed his cloak back over his shoulders and lowered his hood, revealing a darkly tanned face that few forgot once they had seen it. The right side was ruggedly handsome with a high cheekbone, straight nose, and a strong brow. The left side had been horribly disfigured: the cheekbone smashed, and the skin a gnarled floret of scar tissue from his hairline to the point where the skin disappeared beneath his short brown beard. Icy blue eyes peered out from between dark lashes, with irises so pale that they nearly vanished into the whites. He leaned across the bar toward the elven lady.

"Excuse me, mistress," he said politely. "Could you direct me to the innkeeper?"

Lespheria looked up with a smile on her face that only faltered for an instant at the initial sight of him. She nodded toward the kitchen, gamely finishing her smile. "You will find her in there, sir, if you can make your way through the mob."

His pale eyes followed her nod. There was indeed a small mob of hobbits gathered around the entrance to the kitchen.

"Mathom," the elven lady informed him with a wink.

"Ah!" Kaldir smiled with the good half of his face. "Perhaps you could help me instead. I am hoping to find lodgings."

"Lodgings," echoed the elven lady. "Then you will have to speak to Aman. We are quite full at the moment."

"Then I shall wait," he said amiably. He pushed a coin across the counter. "An ale, please."

Once he had received the ale, Kaldir turned his attention toward the common room, surveying the other occupants with his eyes. Most seemed comfortable with themselves and their surroundings, but others seemed rather skittish to his practiced gaze. He would have to remember the skittish ones, he told himself. They could be of interest later. Continuing his visual tour of the room, he found the Desert Lady, the one he had almost managed to capture in the courtyard, sitting on the floor at the base of the stairs in a litter of scattered packages with a Ranger holding her foot. The hobbit lady from the courtyard was there as well, looking on anxiously.

She must have fallen, thought Kaldir. So much the better. Now she can't run away. A cold smile danced at the back of his eyes.

[Snowdog]

'Aye, its best we get you comfortable miss Benia Nightshade, and maybe between Vanwe and my own methods, and some assist from the hobbit-lass we can set this before too long. Know it will be painful.'

The door slid open and then shut, letting the bright morning light for a moment illuminate the common room. Silvanis paused for a moment to eye the hooded one that walked in. A seeming aire of familiarity passed by him as he walked, but as the man went to the bar and his hood fell back, that aire passed. Maybe a familiar stride from long past, or a stranger seen in an inn somewhere thought Silvanis as he turned his attention back to Benia. But the rough face did not awaken much memory.

'Now hold strong Miss as we will have you off this floor in a passing of a breeze.'

Silvanis with his knees bent slid his hands under Benia's back and behind her knees, and though as he stood with her in his arms caused her to wince in pain, he gave her a re-assuring glance with his eyes as she looked at him, but his glance for a brief moment turned to the one who entered as he sipped his ale and Silvanis noted again a familiarity as he watched them. No matter, Benia needed tending so he turned and said to Gilly as he held the woman,

'Lead the way lass.'

and Vanwe stood to follow, she too noticing the one who entered.

'Worry not of your scattered wares m'lady, for they will be gathered and kept safe.'

Gilly led him up the stairs that caused Benia so much trouble, he being careful not to let her swelling foot bump the wall or beam. Gilly opened a door and with quick but subtle steps, Silvanis lay Benia gently down upon the mat.

'My ways of setting are crude but effective, but I will hope Vanwe has a gentler way that will get you healed?'

Silvanis looked again at the ankle, but was heartened that Benia could move her toes. Maybe it isn't as bad as first believed? Silvanis checked to see if he had any healing herbs but realized they were on Blackveil outside, for he had prepared to leave before re- entering the Inn for the coffee. He looked at Vanwe and asked,

'What is it you require to ease this m'lady?'

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]

[Envinyatar]

Derufin sidled away from the busy group and into the relative safety of the kitchen. He had only come in to get a jug of Cook’s cool mint tea and another dose of willow bark powder for his headache.

‘Don’t you go taking this yet,’ Cook instructed him, handing him the twist of parchment that held the powder. ‘Not good for you to have one dose right on top of another. You did the drinking, now you’ll just have to suffer the consequences.’

He wiped the grin from his face at her motherly admonishment, and nodded his head in what he hoped was a suitably chagrined manner. Cook, however, was not deceived by this change of expression, and proceeded to lecture him on the evils of overindulgence in spirits. To his good sense he did not laugh as the diminutive Hobbit wagged a crooked finger under his nose, and fixed him with her steely stare. Her brown curls, flecked with some gray, bounced this way and that as she ticked off points for him on her fingers, emphasizing each one with a shake of her head.

She had just worked her way to number six of her list of ‘And don’t you ever let me catch you . . . .’s, holding her left thumb up to keep count, when his resolve broke and he could no longer hold back. Bending down, he kissed the crown of her head, mashing her curls with his exuberant action.

Eyes wide she drew back from him, stuttering. ‘Now what in the Westfarthing was that all about, you blunderheaded Big Folk?!’ she blurted out.

‘You sounded just like my mother, the first time my brother and I got into Da’s home brewed mead. I simply couldn’t resist.’

Derufin grinned and bowed slightly to the disconcerted Hobbit. He bent down further, and gave her a peck on the cheek and a wink to follow. ‘I’m taking Falmar down to the Pool, away from the noise and bother of the Inn for a while. Vanwe can see to any horses that come in. Won’t be back ‘til late this evening. I have some personal business to take care of.’

Pocketing the twist of powder, he walked out the back door, the flask of tea in hand. He whistled for the horse, and mounting her in a still clumsy manner, rode out the gate and down the path . . .

[Everdawn]

Madea gulped. "Me?... uh.. well, My father, you see... He is a Dol Amroth General, and, my mother died when she was having me. I never knew her you see..." She paused, thinking.

"Anyway, my father, was very dissappointed that I was not born male, and blamed me all my life for taking my mother away. He never deems me fit to even have a decent conversation. I did grow up having the best of everything, but my father never saw me fit to even pick up a sword. I could never go anywhere without an escort, and now! Now he wants to marry me off to one of the guards, who i have never met! And i am only 16! although i am now closer to seventeen, but that still does not mean i cant make decisions for myself!"

Madea had said all this too fast and took a breath. "Thats when i decided enough was enough. I ran away, i took what money i could from my house and have been on the road ever since, I do realise it was dangerous, since i rode unarmed. The folk i met were very nice to me."

Her dark eyes glinted. "I do so love the Shire, tell me more about it Ms Took."

Aleia smiled at her. "Not at all miss, call me Aleia, there is no need for such fomalities here, you are among friends now."

Madea nodded, "yes, yes of course. I have never really had many friends you know."

[Nerindel]

"I would like just a simple ale,"

"Brother, you act as though you fear I am too young to drink ale,"

"An ale for me as well, Lady Léspheria."

Léspheria poured the ales and gently pushed them across the bar to Ruddyn and Fendadia. Léspheria chuckled as the young woman took her ale and removed herself to a table close to the bar leaving her brother to pay for their drinks, she often did the same thing to her own brother. Ruddyn clearly like her own bother was used to it and didn't mind in the slightest, he dug in his pouch for the right coinage and held them out to her, as she took them he nodded his thanks then went to join his sister at their table.

Léspheria opened the wooden draw under the bar and put the coins inside. As she closed the draw and rised her head she saw a rather weather beaten, shy young woman enter the inn and taking an empty seat. "So, what will it be?" she smiled walking towards the woman. "A sip of ale would be nice." she replied, her smile lit up her rather exhausted looking features. She walked back to the bar to get the womans drink.

But before she could pour the ale another spoke to her..."Excuse me, mistress, could you direct me to the innkeeper?" She looked up with a smile on her face that only faltered for an instant at the sight of his horribly disfigured left features. She nodded towards the kitchen, gamely finnishing her smile. "You will find her in there, sir, if you can make your way through the mob." she nodded to a door surrounded by a small mob of hobbits that where clambering trying to get a glimpse of what wonders were inside.

"Mathoms," she winked at the confused man before her.

"Ah!" he smiled with the good half of his face. "Perhaps you could help me instead. I am hoping to find lodgings."

"Lodgings," she echoed "Then you will have to speak with Aman. We are quite Full at the moment."

"Then I shall wait," he replied amiably. He then pushed a coin across the counter and ordered an ale, "Ah! that I can help you with!" she smiled. She poured the rangers drink and set it before him. Once receiving his ale he turned his attention toward the busy common room.

Léspheria remembering her other guest drew another ale and walk over to the young womans table, she gently set the drink before the dark haired woman. "It is a beautiful morning is it not?" she ask hoping to elevated Enif's nervousness....

[spirit_detective]

Aranti had watched the man carry the young girl who had fallen upstairs. Silently she made her way after them.

"What can I do to help?" The two jumped at Aranti's voice. Not waiting for an answer, she knelt next to the bed and took a hold of the girl's foot.

"What is your name?" The girl bit back a cry and answered softly.

"Benia," she whispered. Aranti expertly examined the foot. Then, she took out a bottle of something and poured it onto a cloth. She wrapped it around the foot and Benia's face showed a sign of relief as the pain began to pass.

Aranti stood and headed for the door. In midstep, she turned and pointed a finger at Benia, her face showing no expression.

"Next time, be more careful."

Downstairs, she once again took out her sword and placed it in the bare space in front of her. She sipped her tea quietly glaring out from underneath the fiery strands that hung down in her face.

She should have relaxed since this was, after all, very safe compared to the wilds. Still, she couldn't help but being tense.

[piosenniel]

Two Game Discussion Threads are still taking on Characters.

A House Divided, owned by Sophia the Thunder Mistress could use another applicant for the position of aide to King Tarannon Falastur, the husband of Beruthiel and her 9 Cats.

Corsairs and Corsets, owned by a trio of Shire writers needs a number of court people to fill their ranks.

Please check both these Games out and see if you can craft a good character and First Post for them.

~~ Pio, Shire Mod

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Once Benia was brought safely to her parlor, the ranger Silvanis turned to Vanwe, asking her what might required to ease Benia’s discomfort. While Vanwe paused in thought, Gilly excused herself to collect the rest of Benia’s things that were still strewn about the bottom of the stairs.

“Lass, indeed!” She muttered as she went. “As if I were a child, frolicking around the Shire, and without a care.”

The hobbit was deeply thankful to Silvanis, but was having a great deal of trouble reconciling it with her long held mistrust of Rangers. Old prejudices were still rooted in her psyche despite the many revelations brought to light after The War.

It doesn’t hurt to keep your eyes open , she thought as she stooped to pick. up the dried fruit and other items lying on the floor.

Suddenly, remembering the second Ranger, the one from the yard, Gilly looked up toward the commons room. There across the room sat the heavily scarred man sipping at a tankard and watching her. As she caught his glance he raised his tankard to her and then fluidly averted his glaze to a small group of animated guests near the door.

[Twix Demon]

Amorthia bit her lip, telling herself not to be so timid as she entered the inn. But the thought of how this was her first time out of Gondor sent a rush of adrenaline through her veins.

She wove her way to an unoccupied table, and sat as gracefully as she could on the worn wooden bench. Removing her pack, Amorthia wound her fingers into the leather straps, trying to keep them from trembeling. She looked up, and tried to sort people out in the half light.

[Delian]

Walking into the inn Caseus glanced around for his friend. His brown cloak moving back and forth as he trotted to the bar. Grabbing two ales he continued his search for his friend. "Ah, Delian, what a surprise. What brings you here my friend?"

"Someone, I am told, was going to bring me a message from Sarrenor. Are you the one he sent?"

"No, I bring you no such message, I only stopped here because I saw your horse. That and ale are my reasons for being here."

"You forget, my friend, that I hate horses and will only ride in the most desperate situations. No, I brought no horse, but someone else's horse whom you recognize may be outside."

"So someone else is here that I know. Maybe Halenth's horse is here, and he may be the one who brings this message you speak of. But we must wait to see what the afternoon will bring."

[ June 17, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Annalaliath]

Annalaliath was sitting in the common room as Morwyn walked in. Her eyes felt puffy and dry, and she was very glum. She was resting her chin on her folded arm as she drew with the other. The drawing was nothing really , just the lines and marks that she made when she was not thinking. The gif of laughter was not doing anything that was cheerful this morning. She was angry and wanted everyone to know it. She was angry at herself, at the stranger that had stumbled upon her and Morwyn and finally at the creator for creating her. She wondered why he would do such a thing, why he would allow her to be so "weird" as other called it. She was pondering these things when Morwyn came into the room.

Nahi had all but disappeared and Annalaliath wondered where she had gone. How her and Celecu were doing. If they were even still in the Shire. A funny thought passed her buzzing and clumsy brain, maybe they went to find a magistrate, or what ever you would can them here. Someone to marry them. She pounded the paper with her pin leaving wholes and ink spots where she had done so.

“Why am I acting like this,” she wondered out loud.

[Mithadan]

A rider, wearing the livery of Gondor, entered The Green Dragon, bearing a scroll. He proceeded to the Innkeeper and bowed low before presenting her with the tube. In it were two pieces of vellum. The first read as follows:

My lady, its been some time and that's certain. Yet I've not forgotten you or your fine establishment. When I can, I will visit. But I write today of more important matters. I received the attached today and thought you should see it and perhaps pass it on. Regards, X.

On the second piece of vellum was the following:

The New Rules of Gondor Have Been Posted in Ecthelion's Tower (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=21&t=000008)

[Ealasaid]

Gilly led the way to Benia's rooms, as the Ranger followed close behind with Benia in his arms. Once inside the sitting room, he laid Benia gently on the mat.

"My ways of setting are crude but effective," he said. "But Vanwe has a gentler way that will get you healed."

He examined Benia's ankle once more before turning to the elflady who had followed them up the stairs. Benia recognized her from their earlier encounter in the kitchen. Oddly, the elflady had also been the first to assist Benia on the stairs after the Ranger. Vanwe, is it? Benia remarked to herself, casting her a hopeful glance. She had heard great things about the healing abilities of elves. Maybe this lady could help her, maybe not, but either way, Benia was pleased to see her. Perhaps now the elflady had gotten over her fears of Benia.

"What is it that you require to ease this. m'lady?" the Ranger asked Vanwe. Silently, Gilly slipped out of the room to collect Benia's scattered parcels at the bottom of the stairs.

Before Vanwe had a chance to answer, a rather sour-looking young woman stomped into the room, pushing past both the Ranger and Vanwe, without so much as a good afternoon or a by-your-leave. She was a good deal younger than Benia, yet she marched up to her as though she were a sulky child. She took hold of Benia's ankle and, in the process of examining it, gave it a slight twist which caused the rough edges of the bones to grind together. Benia bit back a cry of anguish.

"What is your name?" demanded the girl.

"Benia," Benia managed to choke out through a cloud of pain. The girl didn't answer, but took out a bottle of something, poured it on a cloth, then wrapped the cloth around Benia's ankle. When she let go of Benia's ankle, Benia's face showed a visible sign of relief. At least, the stranger would not be twisting it anymore.

The girl stood and headed for the door, but stopped halfway there. She turned and pointed an imperative finger at Benia. "Next time, be more careful," she ordered. With that, she left, passing Gilly on the way out. Benia, Gilly, Vanwe, and the Ranger each looked at each other from face to face, not sure what to make of the intrusion. Benia's ankle certainly did not feel any better, although the girl had seemed confident that what she had done had helped.

"Well, that was rather rude," Gilly said softly, having come in right about the time when the girl had pointed her finger at Benia. "Don't they teach manners where she comes from?"

Looking down at her ankle, Benia laughed nervously. "I wonder what that was she put on to the cloth. When I was little, my father used to always say rub a little dirt on it. You'll be fine. He was joking, of course."

"But does the ankle feel any better?" asked the Ranger.

"Not really," answered Benia. "I am still waiting to see what Miss Vanwe is capable of." She turned her eyes toward the young elflady, who still looked a bit skittish, but pleased to be of assistance.

[ June 17, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Aleia smiled. "Well, you see, the Shire is quite simple. We eat, we sleep, we garden, and we have the occasional party or two. At our birthday parties, it is not uncommon for the birthday-hobbit to give out presents to the guests. Not large, garish presents, but small trinkets that are charming to have on a mantlepiece."

"If you are not yet bored by my efforts, I shall tell you of my family, as you have told me of yours. I come from a relatively small family, what with my father Meilo Took and my mother Jasmine Burrows having only three children: myself, my sister Abbigale, and my brother Meibo. We were not wealthy and we were not hard off--we were in the middle. Two years ago, my mother passed away and that is when I decided I was tired of the conventional hobbit life and that I wanted to become a traveller."

At this point Aleia got a far-off look in her eyes, of old anger and pain.

"I had seen what traditional life did to you. You became predictable, blended in, became one of the crowd. I didn't want that. I guess you could say I was a rebel. I wanted to be unique. I wanted to have my own personality. I told my father that I wanted to become a traveller and go all over Middle-earth. He was sullen and tight-lipped after I told him this, and he quietly asked me why I would want to do this. I was the youngest of my siblings, and they wanted to do no such thing. They wanted to be like everyone else and stay at home in the Shire."

"I continued to tell my father that no matter what he did, I would eventually go off on my own. If I had to run away, I would go. Finally, though it was in reluctance, he agreed to let me go and not to disband me from our family. I wasted no time in getting myself ready. I took my favourite pony, Skeet, and a few provisions and a bit of money. This was when my mistakes began."

Aleia shook her head suddenly, as if clearing away sleep, and laughed. "That is probably my darkest tale as of yet. The others are humourous. Would you care to hear one?" Madea nodded vigourously. "All right then. One day, I was riding about near Esgaroth (where I was going to pick up provisions, as I was tiring of wild meat)..."


"...and then I found out that it had been a young girl all the time! It made me feel like such a fool and I left as quickly as possible," finished Aleia. She laughed with Madea as she remembered her adventure at Esgaroth.

"So, Madea...what have your travels brought you to find?" she asked, leaning back in her chair.

[ June 17, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

[spirit_detective]

Aranti set her empty cup on the table. She had known, the medicine was not supposed to ease the pain, but to help the bones grow back together. Her arms dragged across the wooden edge, causing her to flinch. She pulled back one her black sleeves, revealing her arm to be bandaged up to the elbow.

She tore at the edges, exposing slits in near her wrist. She put a slightly glowing finger to it and the pain subsided. Which reminded her that she had not done such a thing for Benia.

"But there is another of my kind up there, she will tend to that." Aranti said with a grin. She brushed her hair back revealing her pointed ears. She leaned back and put her hands behind her head.

"Can I get you anything?" Aranti opened an eye. Yet another maid stood before the elven Ranger.

"I'm fine thankyou," she answered almost whispering. She once again closed her eyes. A mixed looked of both sadness and thoughtfulness crossed her features.

[Delian]

A short while after Caseus had left Delian alone at his table a hobbit walked over and sat down with his ale. "Good afternoon, Sir. Welcome to the Green Dragon. Are you new in the Shire? Just passin through? What's your name might I ask? My name's Drogo Halmor, nice to meet you. Do you want an ale?"

A little suprised by the talkative young hobbit the man sat there with a blank stare for a few seconds before responding. "Hold on there young master. One question at a time is normal in the Shire is it not?"

A little taken back by the man's comment and a little confused (he had expected his questions answered first) he stuttered back, "We... well yes, b... but don't most men answer questions before handing out new ones?" He grinned at his comeback in the way a child would at outsmarting an adult.

"Very well short master. My name is Delian son of Sallesar, I am just passing through, this is not my first time in the Shire but I am not farmilliar with this region. As for the ale I drink beer unless ale is served." he said pointing to the empty ale mug next to the hobbit's foot, which had comfortly lain on the table scince the start of the conversasion. "Now I have some questions for you Drogo." continued the man, "Why do I interrest you so much when there are many tall folk in the inn at this time? Are you the messenger? And would you like me to get our drinks?"

"There you go askin more than one question at a time. So if we aren't being exactly proper I'll answer your questions out of order. First off I ain't know of any messages. Next it'd be mighty kind of you to get the drinks for us, ale for me, beer for you. Lastly I'm only interrested in you because you sat over here for a mighty long time without doin much at all, no talkin, no orderin drinks, no nuthin." replied the short hobbit as he called someone over. "Halenth, is this the man you were lookin for?"

"Yes, thank you my dear hobbit friend" said the tall shabby man who had approached the table (apparently a ranger for few wear grey who are not). "Hello Delian." he said after a moment or two of speachlessness. "Most of us thought you were dead seeing as we haven't seen you for some years. Then I was told that the 'one who didn't belong' needed to be contacted I couldn't believe it. When Sarrenor needed a deliverer I spoke up for the job. All he gave me was this and his best wishes to us both." said Halenth still recovering from the shock of seeing someone he had long thought dead. He drank Drogo's ale, refunded the hobbit, and pulled a small peice of paper from his sack. "I and some of the other rangers, even though you aren't quite one of us, are willing to help you if you get into any kind of a jam. Also, before I leave, I'd be quite happy if you would come visit us some time." the ranger thanked the hobbit for his help and left the Dragon.

[ June 17, 2003: Message edited by: Delian ]

[Elora]

Benia, Gilly and Silvanis all awaited her. Vanwe was awash in uncertainty which simmered beneath her expression. Healing, or Elvish hell-spawned sorcery as the villagers chose to call it, was not something she had openly admitted to. Yet they all turned expectant faces to her as though they knew she could. The villagers had known too. They had tried to erase it, but they could no more erase her race than they could the gifts she had inherited. The same abilities that her mother had honed to a sharp and wicked edge with which to wreak such evil and pain, Vanwe possessed in her own way.

She was no Elven healer. She had never been taught and had not dared flaunt or explore her abilities. They had enough reasons to torment her without adding that fuel to the fire. Benia, Silvanis and Gilly willed her on. Vanwe took a breath to steel herself and stepped forward to gingerly remove the cloth that Aranti had boldly slapped into place.

Benia's pain ebbed in waves that Vanwe could sense. She examined the cloth, and unsure what exactly had been poured onto it or why, set it aside for the moment. Vanwe trusted her hands more than a stranger. Gently, her fingers moved over Benia's ankle to which Vanwe bent towards as she sensed out what lay beneath the swollen skin.

Both from what her fingers were able to learn and from what she sensed of Benia's pain, Vanwe was able to piece together a clearer picture of the injury.

"It is not as I had thought," she murmured softly, lost in what was at hand. In a louder voice, Vanwe added "It is not a break... a fracture perhaps..."

Her fingers explored a little further.

"I have seen this before... The bone does not scream of a break, but something is wrong nonetheless. Benia is fortunate that the fracture has not been worsened by the recent sudden movement."

An expression of utter disapproval so strong as to flash in her blue eyes crossed Vanwe's face before it relapsed into it's earlier expression of utter serene focus. The jolt of the movement to inspect and then place that cloth over it could have made a fracture a break.

Benia all this while did a remarkable feat of attempting to master the pain that was rolling through her, pushing Vanwe onwards.

"But first your ankle must be prepared, my Lady." Vanwe knelt on the floor and again gently wrapped her hands around Benia's ankle. The shock was all but gone, as was the attendant numbness. She resumed sensing out the wrongness and sought a memory within bone, muscle, tissue for how it should be. Living things remembered. Benia's pain rolled and swayed in the room around them, heat suffused Vanwe. Still her fingers gently moved.

Vanwe absorbed herself in the healing. She had no words to describe how she did what she did. Maybe it was foul sorcery. Vanwe did not know. It was simply making the ankle right again, as the bone and muscles remembered it to be.

How much time passed Vanwe could not tell. When the heat that had built beneath her skin, particularly in her hands, started to fade, she set Benia's ankle gently down once more. Vanwe blinked, drew a breath and sensed that the pain that radiated from Benia was different now. It was not wrong. It too would fade, particularly with the herbs and strapping to aid it.

Vanwe looked up to Benia and nodded.

"Your ankle will mend well, my lady," she said with a sense of gravity which was in odd contrast to the sense of lightness that spun in Vanwe's head. It had been some time since she last healed, and it was something she had not been able to openly learn and explore in the village. Healing in such a way was another suspicion to sit over her head, and the ability was something Vanwe well hid behind more accepted means of treatment. Better a poultice than the corruption of Elvish sorcery.

All Vanwe could hope was that Benia did not carry with her the superstitions of the village, or did not care so long as her ankle was healed. But, if she did object, then Benia was even more of a danger. Vanwe sat still, waiting for the lightheaded sensation to pass, studying Benia. Was she foe? Was she in league with mercenaries?

Vanwe's gaze dropped to Benia's hands as her mind lurched sickeningly. She noted the intricate and beautiful tattoos that traced over Benia's skin. Her own were unadorned. No village advertised or claimed her. Vanwe did not know whether she had revealed herself further to a friend or foe, but could not and would not undo what was done. There was too little kindness in the world she well knew, and if she was to return to that hell at least she knew she could do more with her hands than labour or carve.

Conscious that Gilly and Silvanis watched on, Vanwe found her voice.

"I have seen this at ho-, before," Vanwe stumbled over her correction. "We will need to strap Benia's ankle and keep weight off it until the bone can strengthen. Some herbs will help with the pain as the bone and muscles settle more firmly into place. There are many infusions and teas that can be easily made."

Vanwe had not forgotten who had entered the inn, nor the possible danger of Benia, nor the rashness of her recent act. Yet it was done. Vanwe's decision, though likely not the wisest one for continued freedom, was made. Vanwe listed a range of possible herbs, known for their wholesome properties, as she discussed the matter with Silvanis and Gilly.

Silvanis had his own store, Vanwe herself had observed some yesterday in her afternoon spent exploring the surrounds of the inn. Gilly proved quite knowledgeable also.

"I have no thyme," Vanwe lamented. She had used the last of that precious herb months ago and it did not grow in the wetter and cooler north. "We also need something firm to strap Benia's ankle with. My dress is too dusty, but I know there is a store of clean cloths behind the bar that would well suit this purpose."

The idea of venturing out to where the unusual newcomer awaited so that she could wave her presence under his nose was not one Vanwe particularly wished to entertain. Already her ingrained preference for wariness was screaming a loud and much ignored protest. Vanwe nourished the hope that Silvanis or Gilly would perhaps go in search of the herbs and cloth.

Vanwe slowly stood, Benia wriggling toes a little more strongly now. It was a good sign, encouraging. Vanwe smiled a little to see it, pleased with that small thing, and looked to Silvanis and Gilly. Belatedly remembering her place, Vanwe stepped back and bowed.

"My honour to serve, my Lady," she murmured as she did so. As her gaze swept upwards again, Kaldir who sat in observation leapt into sight once more. Vanwe was robbed of breath and dragged her gaze away, back to Benia's wriggling toes whilst conversation around her discussed Cook's teas to chase away pain, words ringing in Vanwe's ears and heart pounding like a galloping horse in her chest.

It was not Kaldir's close observation, air of latent threat nor even his clothing that so terrified Vanwe. It was the expression on the man's face, an expression she had seen too many times before, that chased any warmth from Vanwe's now chilled body. Whilst discussion wound on, she shivered faintly.

[Everdawn]

"You are so very brave Aleia, What have I come to find? Well, i have gotten lost a great number of times. Well, that was before i reached Enedwaith and a small company of rangers came across me on the road. I can still remember how frightened I was."

She frowned. "At first i thought they were bounty hunters after me, but then one man stopped and said to me, rather harshly, 'girl, what are you doing alone, on such a dangerous road?' Why, i could hardly speak! After a while they took me with them, I told them my name and that people may come after me. They said they would take me this far, and here I am."

Madea smiled. "But I have been thinking of how I might get out of my predicament. And i have come to this conclusion, I have to marry before I go home, at least. That is the only option I can see." She paused. "What of the other folk in this Inn, There are so many elves!"

[Nerindel]

Léspheria had witnessed Silvanis entering the inn supporting a southern woman she had seen around the inn, a small hobbit woman was almost running to keep up with the rangers long strides. Léspheria had been too busy to give any aid and was glad when she saw Vanwe had gone with them.

But as she continued with her work, doubts crept into her mind, Vanwe had told her that she was from the south, which Léspheria had found most strange and if indeed she was, she may not know of her inherent gifts. She also remembered how uncomfortable the young Elven woman had been around Both Silvanis and the southern woman, it had almost seemed as though she feared them.

Oh! she thought as all the piece of the puzzle that was Vanwe clicked together in her mind. She immediately stopped what she was doing and rushed to the kitchen pushing passed the gathered Hobbits.

"Cook! do you have any thyme in your store?" she asked politely. "Of course I do! Why?" she asked raising a puzzled eye brow. "One of the guests has injured themselves" she quickly went on. "I need the thyme..." "for tea" the Hobbit woman finished for her, Lesperia nodded profusely. "I'll make the tea and you get that box down from up there" she said pointing to an average sized box that sat on the middle shelf next to the door. As Léspheria got the box she could see it was full of various dressings and strappings. She turned back to the hobbit woman to see her pouring the tea into a large mug, "here you go, Now make sure your patient drinks it all" she said waggling a stubby finger at her. Léspheria smiled taking the mug and box she rushed to Benia's room stopping only to check what room the woman was in.

She reached the room to see Vanwe tending the woman's swollen ankle, She nodded approvingly, It seemed the elf had some knowledge of her gifts after all. She watched from the door as the elven woman then told the Silvanis and the hobbit woman what else would be required.

She knocked the open door and entered the room, "I thought you might need this" she said pressing the tea into Benia's hands. The sweet smell of the thyme filled the room.

"Now cook said to be sure that you drink it all" she said smiling warmly at the southern woman. She then sat carefully on the end of the bed and examined the woman's ankle, "A fine job you have done she said turning to Vanwe with a knowing smile.

She then searched through the wooden box for the appropriate strapping, once she found what she was looking for, she turned again to Vanwe and Silvanis. She noticed that The elven woman had started to slowly back out of the room. Oh! No! you don't she thought to herself, "Vanwe, Silvanis I shall need your help to raise..." She pause as she remembered she didn't know the woman's name. "Benia" the hobbit woman added for her. "Thank you" she smiled appreciatively. "Yes, I will need you help to raise Benia's leg so I can apply the strapping".

Vanwe hesitated for a second then nodding she walked over to do as she was asked, Silvanis nodded and walked over without hesitation, as they reached the bed she turned to Gilly and whispered "You may want to take her hand this may hurt a little." Gilly nodded and went to take her friends hand.

Léspheria then looked between Vanwe and Silvanis as they stood opposite each other with their hands under Benia's leg ready to lift it when she gave the word. Vanwe's head was bent to avoid Silvanis's gaze, but Léspheria could see no malice or ill intent in the southern mans face. She had already guessed that an elf in the south lands of Harad would not have had an easy life, but the way the elven woman acted around these southern travellers lead her to believe that she was running away from someone or something and that she feared to be found.

She rummaged in the small herb satchel that hung from her silver dress belt. she pulled out a medium sized leaf and unwrapping it the others could see a disgusting looking brown paste, which smelled worse than it looked. Seeing the others wrinkling their noses, she laughed "Do not worry, I promise you the smell will not linger and it will take down the swelling", Benia nodded dubiously.

As Léspheria gently rubbed the paste onto the swelling the vile smell instantly subsided as she had promised, then with a nod Vanwe and Silvanis gently lifted Benia'a leg and together they applied the strapping.

As Silvanis and Vanwe lowered the woman's leg back down apon the bed, she quickly wrapped the unused paste back up in the leave and returned it to her satchel.

"Now! what Exactly has been happening here!" She asked, Shooting them each with a look that told them that she wished nothing to be omitted. She gave Vanwe and Silvanis a longer look than the others, giving the elven woman the clear indication that she had guessed what she feared.

Lespheria could clearly see that neither southern held any ill will towards the elven woman and if she was hiding from someone or something from her past it would be better for her if she asked this pair to keep her where about to themselves. She believed that they both would honour her request. She had spoken with Silvanis on her first night at the inn and had found him to be well natured and honourable and as for the southern woman... well she was friends with a hobbit woman and hobbits were known to be very choosy with whom they made friends. 'Hobbits are very good judges of character,' an old hobbit man who had lived in Rivendell for a time had once told her.

As she waited for them to reply she walked over to close the door so that they would have privacy to speak openly. But as she reached the door she saw the disfigured ranger she had served earlier, he was watching the room intently. 'Now what is his part in these peoples lives' she thought to herself. The ranger did not now look as friendly as he had earlier. So she nodded smiling pleasantly, then shut the door and turn to the other waiting patiently for them to begin.

[ June 18, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Twix Demon]

Amorthia was fascinated by the halflings. She had never seen any race but men, and the short little people fascinated her. Her mother had called them "quarterlings".

This memory jarred Amorthia slightly, but she composed herself, remembering that there was a purpose in visiting the Shire, and it was not homesickness. Amorthia put aside the thoughts of Gondor for a time.

Running her hands through her muddy, red-brown hair, Amorthia's grey eyes watched the commings and goings of the inn. She hoped someone would recognize her, for she was said to look much like her father.

[Ealasaid]

Kaldir had watched the scene developing around the injured desert lady at the foot of the stairs with great interest, especially when the Ranger lifted her to carry her up the stairs. He watched closely to see if it was merely chivalry that he was witnessing or if there were some kind of attachment between the two of them. Seeing no special display of tenderness, Kaldir relaxed slightly. It would have been difficult for him if the lady in question had turned out to be the Ranger's lady. By principle, having once been a Ranger himself, Kaldir never troubled the Rangers or their ladies. It would be too much like taking down one of his own.

Once the group that interested him had disappeared into an upstairs room -- he was careful to note which room -- Kaldir looked for a chair that would give him a good vantage point over both the door to the room and the rest of the common room. Finding one, he settled in with his beer. Before long, the hobbit lady from the courtyard came back out of the room and began gathering up the desert lady's scattered packages. As she did so, she cast a wary glance in his direction. On a whim, Kaldir raised his beer to her in greeting, then pretended to look away, his attention drawn elsewhere. But he continued to watch her from the corner of his eye. She stared back at him for a moment longer, then turned and scurried back up the stairs. He decided he would have to keep an eye on her as well. Even hobbits who didn't look too bright were often sharper than than they appeared. This one appeared quite sharp to begin with and could turn out to be more than merely troublesome...not that she couldn't be dealt with, of course. He took another sip of his ale.

There was another one up in the room with the injured lady that Kaldir had previously not given much thought to. In his boredom while the door remained closed, he tried to recall what he could about her. She was an elf, by the look of her, tall and thin with long, pale, golden hair. When he had seen her earlier, he had catagorized her in with the Skittish ones. There was a high-strung nervousness about her that one generally did not see in elves, and her piercing blue eyes seemed to be perenially checking the shadows, the corners, the space behind her, as though certain that someday, at any moment, the shadows themselves might reach out for her. He had seen that look in the eyes of the hunted many times before. As usual, it piqued his interest. If she was running, then there was very likely someone in pursuit. And the Someone in Pursuit would very likely pay a good price to see her caught. Idly, he tried to remember what he had heard about fugitive elves. Usually the elves kept that sort of thing to themselves, to deal with themselves, but there was one he had heard about. A female. He looked up again at the closed door with renewed interest. Surely, this wasn't the Ravener's daughter.

Before long, a second elf woman, the one who had served Kaldir at the bar, climbed the stairs to join the group in the injured woman's room. She carried a large cup of herbal tea and a box. No doubt full of bindings for the leg, thought Kaldir. When she entered the room, she left the door slightly ajar, although it was not open far enough to afford him a view. A short time later, she came back to close it. As she did so, she looked directly at him. She nodded to him and smiled pleasantly, then closed the door with a resounding click of the latch.

[ June 18, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

A considerable mob of Shirelings had gathered directly outside the room where Aman had set the mathoms out on giant sorting tables. Hobbits were impatiently pacing up and down the corridor and banging on the doorway every few seconds to beseech Cami to let them in. Several enterprising lads had shinnied up the rose trellis to gain access to the second floor window that looked onto the sorting room. These lads now had their fingers curled tightly around the ledge, with their bodies hanging down and their eyes peering in just above the bottom of the window sill. They squinted in through a good-sized hole in the curtains, vainly trying to make out what was going on inside.

Cami blocked her ears to the hubub and kept sorting through the piles that Aman had carted down from the attic. There was no way she'd get work done if she let these folk come trampling in. She'd tried that once before, and it simply hadn't worked.

Everyone claimed they wanted to help sort things, but once they got into the room, all thoughts of sorting vanished. She'd found hobbits furtively pushing mathoms into their back pockets, and others nearly coming to blows when two neighbors couldn't decide on who had first dibs on a particular item.

Perhaps, she needed some realiable helpers. Hobbits or Elves or Men who would keep their mind on business and not go off half-cocked by stuffing things into their pants and aprons. Surely there must be some guests at the Inn, or perhaps Shirelings from the surrounding neighborhood, who would assist her in this giant enterprise of mounting a jumble sale.

Cami reached inside the storage cupboard and pulled out a sheet of crisp, clean vellum along with pen and ink. Dipping the quill into the inkpot, she soon produced a handsome placard in her nicest curleykew script and, locking the door of the mathom room behind her, made her way towards the dining area where the more sensible patrons of the Dragon were enjoying mid-day tea. Using a hammer and nails, she pounded the placard up above the bar where everyone could see it.

********************************************

Important Notice: Help Wanted:

Sensible Hobbits, Elves and Men needed who can keep their mind on their work!

Help Cami and Aman sort through all the mathoms and peddle them to our guests at a giant jumble sale. You will be rewarded for your efforts with a whole bag of desirable items which you may select from the tables before the general public is admitted.

Don't miss this chance of a lifetime!

Please leave your notes of inquiry addressed to Mistress Aman and Madame Cami with one of the bartenders......

Date and place to be announced shortly.

********************************************

With that, Cami went off searching for Derufin to see if he could possibly find time in the next few days to set up the sawhorses and planks in the Inn courtyard so the goods could be displayed.

[Elora]

The arrival of Lespheria with the thyme soaked infusion restored to Vanwe some sense of her surroundings and once more she was able to concentrate on something other than the sensation of danger that nagged at her more loudly than it had all morning. Instinct was a powerful thing, and Vanwe had learnt to heed her own. Working with the other Elf woman, self-possessed and assured, Silvanis and Gilly, Vanwe grappled inwardly for some echo of Lespheria's composure. It was wearisome to find herself more akin to a skittish deer than her own race.

The thought of her "own race" twisted within her and she kept her gaze dropped and locked on Benia. Her ankle would be pounding in sharp throbs, she sensed, but they would fade all the more quickly now that the strapping had been applied over the infusion. Vanwe glanced up to smile her thanks to Lespheria, when the Elven woman asked her question. Lespheria's gaze swung between them all, settling on each in return, and Vanwe's jaw locked on the words that tumbled within her.

She would not condemn herself by her own mouth. All was not yet lost. She could still yet keep what she sought. Vanwe clasped her hands before her in a show of more calm than she felt, more to still any trembling fingers than anything else.

"I am simply unaccustomed to healing," she said. It was no falsehood. Vanwe was indeed unused to healing. She dared not look at Silvanis or Benia, so instead she looked at a point just beside Lespheria's face upon the wall beyond her - a small thing she had learnt when dissembling many a time before. Vanwe could not discern whether Lespheria saw beyond the obvious to what rolled around within Vanwe, so for good measure she pressed on.

"Thank you for bringing the infusion. It will greatly speed healing, or such is my belief. I... have been too long away from my duties and should trouble you no longer."
Vanwe bowed again, glanced quickly at Benia, Silvanis and Gilly, who was watching the odd exchange with hobbit-like fascination, and moved on swift feet for the door. Once out in the hall she could hear the busy common-room below. More guests, more horses that meant. There were the cloths she had said she'd bring to Aman too.

Vanwe walked down the stairs with a crowded mind that still could drown out the foreboding, only to bump into Cami.

"Vanwe! We've been looking for you," she exclaimed.
"You have," Vanwe replied, foreboding spiking sharply. Who else, she wondered.
"Yes. I can't find Derufin anywhere - still passed out beneath a tree somewhere is my guess. I need saw horses and trestles for the mathoms," Cami said in a fast pitched conversation that bubbled on heedless of Vanwe's unease. Mathoms would brook no delay nor distraction.

"You plan to saw them," Vanwe said in faint confusion as they came to the bottom of the stairs. Cami favoured her with an expression that held no small measure of wonder over how such a daft mind had been able to secure even the simplest of tasks from Derufin.

"No," she said as she firmly shook her head, "I need to display them! People will come from all Farthings to see the mathoms!"

It was a self-evident truth that Cami stated. Vanwe nodded in dawning understanding.

"Ah, I know where Derufin keeps them. I can find them if you wish," the Elf offered. Cami wasted no time with detailed instructions on where they were to be installed. She asked Vanwe questions, so that she could be sure the strange Elf grasped that simple task, and satisfied with Vanwe's understanding bid her to set to it.

"As soon as I see to the horses it shall be done, Cami," Vanwe replied. Cook, who had appeared in search of Cami, sighted Vanwe and said, "Good, as Derufin will not be well pleased to find the stables untended and horses left to wait the leisure of his assistant."

Vanwe nodded, hair swaying as she swung around to make for the door. Again the weight of a gaze settled on her, and it was all she could not do to race for the door. However, once through the doorway, Vanwe moved swiftly down the stairs and even faster towards the stable where indeed horses had been hitched outside. Her hands were trembling again, and the sun a little overbright.

Vanwe plunged into the darkness of the stable, eyes blinded a moment as they adjusted. The relative quiet settled around her, and she breathed a little easier. Likely they all thought her mad. Perhaps she was. Vanwe moved to where the combs and brushes were hung on the back wall and gathered what she needed to unsaddle the awaiting horses. She paused to set the carved crane down on the small table occupied only by a thick file and a small nub of candle almost burnt down to the base on a plate.

Then, pulling her spinning thoughts harshly into mind, returned to do at least one normal thing a stable hand and assistant should be doing, even if she were mad. Blackveil snorted at her as she passed, and recalling Silvanis' words the night before Vanwe left her to move onto the others. Unbuckling saddles and hanging them over the rail, she set about rubbing them down the combing their coats.

It was physical work, but for the most part the horses did not mind the dusty, nervous Elf maiden provided she worked out a long trail and an array of grass seeds and burs picked up along the way. It was only after she had led each to where the stable's residents whiled away the day in the summer sun, that Vanwe paused again. Checking water once more, she turned back for the stables with the now empty bucket.

She still had to haul the tack and saddles in out of the elements, and she was covered in attic dust and horse. By the time she had all in it's place, tidy and clean, Vanwe felt a lethargy wash over her. Fear was exhausting and the foreboding had not abated. Vanwe placed one foot in front of the other as she made for the inn's well.

Her mind weighed heavily, her hands were still trembling and the overwhelming inclination to simply stop and let it all tumble over her dragged at it step. She distantly heard the splash of the well bucket as it hit the water, and dragged it back up to pour into her own bucket.

Vanwe paused as the well bucket stood on the stone lip. Her face was reflected in the water's surface. It was haunted, and she shuddered violently. Then, in yet another display of lunacy she upended the bucket over her head. Water sluiced over her face and through her hair to soak through her thin dress. The shaking did not stop, nor the shock of water pull her back. Vanwe gasped and sank down to sit behind the well, back against the stones.

Her head bent to rest against her arms that she had drawn over her knees. Sunlight warmed her wet hair and she knew she could not hide from the world, or herself, beside a well forever. But for the moment, it would do. Wrapped around herself, Vanwe struggled to regain some sense of stillness within herself. She needed that small peace in order to deal with others, even Lespheria who was her own kindred. Without that small inner sanctuary, she was lost. When she had it again, she would not run away as she had before. She would find Lespheria and Silvanis, and face both. She was just too tired to run anymore.

[Envinyatar]

It was late afternoon before Derufin came back to the Inn. His headache had cleared in the peaceful setting of the clearing around The Pool, and his stomach had quieted down with the help of Cook’s strong peppermint tea. So much better was his stomach, in fact, that it had started to protest it was in need of sustenance.

‘Come, Falmar,’ he said, twisting his fingers in the horse’s mane, and leaping up to clamber onto her back, ‘we should see to the other denizens of the stable. Vanwe, I think, has probably been kept quite busy with the attic, and I’m sure the ponies and horses are chafing in their stalls.’

Derufin turned her head southwest and headed across the Great East Road and to the turn-off for the Inn. He was pleased to see, as he rode up, that someone had brought the horses to the out door pen beneath the great tree. He settled Falmar in with the others, and forked some fresh hay into the hayracks on each end of the wooden fenced oval.

A quick trip to his room for a fresh shirt, and a few handfulls of water sluiced over his face and he deemed himself ready to go back into the hubbub of the Inn. Passing the mirror just inside the door to his room, he stopped, running his hands over the stubble sprouted there on his jowls. ‘No time to shave!’ his stomach grumbled at him, urging him out the door.

The back door to the kitchen was open and the smells of the lamb and vegetable stew cook was making enticed him into a quickened pace. ‘Well,’ he said, entering the fragrant arena, and stealing a cookie from the racks cooling near the door, ‘I’m back! What’s to eat?’

Cami hurried through, a verdigris sconce in her hands. ‘There you are!’ she said, shaking the rather ugly item at him as if to emphasize her point. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you!’ She took his hand and pulled him out toward the door to the Common Room. ‘Come with me! I have need of you!’
_____________________________________________

Please note that the time in the Inn has now moved to late afternoon.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel saw the small hobbit who'd first spoken to her--could it already have been two days?--nail up a sign by the bar. Curious, she excused herself, stammering a little when she looked at Soronume, and went to read it.

********************************************

Important Notice: Help Wanted:

Sensible Hobbits, Elves and Men needed who can keep their mind on their work!

Help Cami and Aman sort through all the mathoms and peddle them to our guests at a giant jumble sale. You will be rewarded for your efforts with a whole bag of desirable items which you may select from the tables before the general public is admitted.

Don't miss this chance of a lifetime!

Please leave your notes of inquiry addressed to Aman and Madame Cami with one of the bartenders......

Date and place to be announced shortly.

********************************************

Well, Niniel didn't know what a mathom was exactly, but the idea sounded interesting. She took a small piece of paper from the pile and wrote her current name on it in thin, spidery Westron, along with a request to be allowed to help. Blushing a little at being so forward, she gave it to the bartender who came to see if she needed anything.

[Elora]

By the time Vanwe had gathered herself, fetched the sawhorses and trestles and set them up as per Cami's specific and detailed requests, the sun had sunk a little into the West. She deliberately kept her mind blank, for dark thoughts lingered despite the time she had spent huddled by the well. Vanwe stood back, casting a final perusing glance over the trestles to be sure it was as Cami would wish. Her hope was to get at least one thing right today. With a small sigh, she collected two extra saw horses and returned them to their place. A quick bypass to collect the crane from the table in the stable and Vanwe was heading back towards the inn.

Her feet were a little heavy, and became moreso, as she realised she had a lot of accounting to do and nothing that vaguely resembled a reasonable explanation. Her mind turned not for the first time to Benia, wondering how she was faring after the healing that had tumbled so much out of where Vanwe had safely locked it away. As she set her foot upon the lower step, she mused that at least her back was not raw from the beating that usually accompanied "Elvish sorcery". It brought a fey smile to briefly illuminate her grave face.

By the time she had stepped in through the door, the smile had faded as her mind turned to business ahead of her. Aman would likely know where she had disappeared to after promising to return with cloths. Lespheria would also be wanting some answers. She had to speak with Silvanis, and see Benia also. As for the Ranger, Vanwe's mind darted away. Rangers were dangerous for the likes of her. Elessar had a good reason to be so keen to bring her mother to justice, as did her own kindred. Vanwe had learnt that Rangers, like soldiers and even the Elves of Mirkwood, were to be avoided.

She would do exactly that, she decided, and avoid the new Ranger. A quick glance around the commonroom did not show him to even still be present, but Rangers could hide as well as she. Her instincts were all she had ever had, and they'd gotten her this far. Vanwe hung onto that as she made for the bar, missing in the crowd Cami and Derufin as she quietly slipped through the people. Vanwe was good at being quiet too.

A check behind the bar revealed the stack of neatly folded cloths had been moved, and Vanwe moved into the kitchen to check the pantry. All sorts of things were kept in the pantry, something she had noticed the day before. Neatly managing to avoid tripping anyone over, Vanwe stepped into the pantry and cast about.

"There you are!"

Vanwe jumped as she spun, finding Cook standing with her hands on her hips. Vanwe opened her mouth to explain her presence, and was forestalled.

"Only this morning we were speaking about the importance of meals. Don't think to make excuses to me, Missy. You're not the only one who has been skipping."

Cook secured Vanwe's wrist and soon had plucked her out of the pantry.

"To think," she clucked as she guided Vanwe to the table and sat her down firmly, "that even Elves would skip a meal and then sneak into my Pantry!"

"I'm no thief!"

Cook turned, surprise painted on her features at the passion in Vanwe's denial. Vanwe herself blushed at the loudness of her voice. When she spoke, which was not often, it was rarely so forcefully. Vanwe's gaze dropped to her lap.

"I'm not," she repeated more softly in her usual manner.
"There now, noone said you were, young lady. But come to mention it, what were you doing in my Pantry?"
"I was looking for some clean cloths I said I would fetch from Aman," Vanwe said to her lap. Cook crossed her arms and considered the odd maiden, too wan and thin by any standard, Elf or no.

"Well, there you have it. Did you find any behind the honey you were reaching for," Cook asked, humour tickling her voice as she turned away to see what little remained from lunch.

"No," replied Vanwe, this time speaking to the table she'd been sat at. Cook soon populated the table to which Vanwe had taken to talking to with what she had found.

"Aye, no surprise that Vanwe. There are none in here. Aman had Cami fetch them a good hour ago when you had disappeared. Now, where do you think you're going?"

Cook fixed Vanwe with a stern glare as she pushed up from her seat.

"Aman-"
"Also missed lunch and will have to answer to me just like you are now. Sit down and eat, Missy. You can sort everything else out later."

Vanwe sat and Cook pushed the dish towards her, filled with bread, cheeses, pickles and even a bright apple. She sighed, placed some cheese on a slice of bread and dutifully ate. Cook nodded in satisfaction and returned to the preparations for the evening, occassionally checking that Vanwe was still eating. As she drained a earthen mug of cool water, Cook smiled in satisfaction.

"There now, nothing is quite so troubling on a full stomach, is it?"

Vanwe learnt quickly. It did not do to argue with Cook.
"No," she dutifully said, gathered the dishes and set them in the warm soapy water to wash them.

"Then smile, Missy, smile," came Cook's reply as she shooed Vanwe back out of the kitchen. Vanwe did her best, lips faintly curving for Cook, and found herself back in the buzzing commonroom. Her smile lapsed and her face again took on a saddened cast. Cook was wrong. Somethings were always bad, well fed or not. With renewed intent to simply avoid the Ranger, Vanwe again combed the room to see if any of the people she had resolved to face were present.

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Aleia's head whirled with Madea's predicament. Marry before she went home? How...how...(to put it childishly)unfair! Aleia thought it quite unbelievable that Madea should be forced to marry a man that she barely knew, just to maintain her freedom. Before she knew it, she was lost in her thoughts deeply, and when Madea touched her on the arm she jumped and said, "Oh, yes! The people in the inn!"

Waving her arm toward a group of elegantly-dressed individuals, she said, "Here you have your Elves. Wood-elves, mostly. Immortal, beautiful, they have everything that you want. I don't know why they are here exactly, but my guess is travellers passing through. Maybe they wanted a mug of sweet tea, a goblet of mead? A room? Perhaps."

Now she swiveled her body and pointed at another more rugged, ragged group. "Here are your Men. They are rugged and tattered, some Rangers and some just horsemen or peddlers going through the area. Again, I don't know exactly why they are here, but I think that their reasons are like the Elves."

"Lastly, here are the Hobbits," she said, waving at a large group of seated Halflings. They waved back enthusiastically. "Cheery, charming, short little folk. Everyone likes to pass through the Shire to see this place, so untouched by war, hunger, poverty...such a beautiful place. Full of peace and quiet...the Hobbits are a lovely folk to be with. Go to one of their lavish parties and you will be enthralled with their folk forever."

Aleia turned to face Madea again, and now her eyes were fixed upon Madea's. "Now tell me, miss," she began, "do you like mathoms?"

[Everdawn]

Aleia pointed to the men, "Rangers" she had said. I do know about them. she thought. "I know they do look a little intimidating, but they are trustworthy." said Madea in a matter-of-factly tone. "Why, if it werent for them, I- I dont know where i would be. You see MSTook-"

"Call me Aleia lass!" It had completely slipped Madea's mind, she was so used to addressing people so fomally. "OH, I am so sorry, as i was saying, they are responsible for allowing my safety." she smiled. "Nice men, at least when you get past the hard exterior. Perhaps later we may have a conversation with one?"

The hobbit then went on to explain the hobbits and the shire. "well, if its something us Gondorians know about, it's war... especially my family." she sighed. "I am so gald you have had not taste of it, my friend, it is so horrible. And i do agree, hobbits are the most charming folk, take yourself for instance. You have so much life, i do admire you, infact i wish i could be more like you." Madea removed her black fur lined cloak and placed it in her lap.


"do you like mathoms?"
Medea was slightly embarassed, "I cant say ive ever been to one." she smiled a little. Her dark eyes beaming against her black hair, making her look slightly cheeky, but definitly older than one who was almost seventeen.

[piosenniel]

To refresh everyone's memory:

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.

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

At present it is late afternoon in the Shire. The season is mid-Summer.

[piosenniel]

New Game Discussion Threads still taking on Characters:

Corsairs and Corsets, owned by a trio of Shire writers needs a number of court people to fill their ranks.

Please check this Game out and see if you can craft a good character and First Post for it.

~~ Pio, Shire Mod

[Nerindel]

Lespheria shook her head and sighed sadly as Vanwe rushed from the room, again running from her problems she thought. For a minute she thought that the elven woman had genuinely misunderstood her question, but she had seen that she was avoiding everyone's gaze even her own, though it did not look like it to the others. A dissembling tactic she had seen used many times in the courts of both Rohan and Gondor, although not used nearly as well as Vanwe had just done, the woman had obviously had much practice.

Feeling the others watching her stare at the closed door, she turn to them, her warm inviting smile once again played on her lips. "I am afraid that I too must get back to work. now! Miss Benia you should not think to riding with that ankle, at least for a few days."

Benia nodded her understanding and thanked her again for her help. As she opened the door to leave she could smell the delightful smells of the kitchen wafting through the entire inn. She paused closing her eyes and inhaled deeply taking in the delectable smells. As she opened her eyes she saw the badly scared ranger watching her, no not her the door beyond her she thought. Seeing her gaze he casually averted his eyes, as he did she stepped back through the still open door and turning to Gilly she said " Miss If you would come with me I will arrange some lunch that you can bring up for yourself and Miss Benia."

Gilly hesitated clearly not wishing to leave her friend alone with Silvanis, who she barely knew. "Do not worry, I do not think that Silvanis holds any ill will towards your friend, in fact I believe that Silvanis trades pelts with the southern peoples." as she spoke Silvanis nodded his agreement. "I will be fine" Benia assured her over protective friend.

Nodding she followed Léspheria from the room. Léspheria escorted the hobbit woman to the kitchen paying the shifty looking ranger no heed. Once in the kitchen Vinca stopped stirring the soup and asked "How is the patient then?, did the tea help?" "yes it did and the patient is fine all be it a little hungry" she grinned replacing the box she had brought back with her to its place on the shelf. "Oh miz Gilly, don't tell me it was your friend that injured herself!" cook exclaimed seeing the hobbit woman sanding by the door.

Gilly did not seem surprised that cook knew of her and her friend, Lespheria puzzled over this for a second then pushed the thoughts aside, she had other things she wished to tell the hobbit woman.

She took a tray and three small bowls from the shelf, "No! No! the bigger ones" Vinca scolded pointing to the larger soup bowls that sat on a lower shelf. She grinned as she bent down and took the bowls. Placing them on the tray she handed them to Vinca, the hobbit woman then proceeded to fill the bowls to the very top with the thick warm soup, "Mushroom" she said proudly handing the tray to Gilly and without waiting for the younger hobbit woman to reply she went and lifted three crusty white rolls from the counter and placed them carefully on the tray.

As Lespheria brought the spoons she stopped before the hobbit woman and said in a calm voice "Did you notice the man with the badly scarred face?" Gilly nodded, Her hobbit features giving the clear indication that she too had not liked the look of him. "He has been watching Benia's room" she continued the hobbit woman's eyes widened with fear for her friend, but lespheria grabbed her gently by the shoulders and continued...

"Their are many men that fought in the war that have not forgotten some of the ill's that the people of the south dealt them and although I do not think that this man is one of them I do believe he is a ranger. I have many friends among the rangers to the north of this land and they have often told tales of rangers who hire out their skill to whom ever will pay the most for them and I feel that this man may be one of them, these things I speak are merely feelings and hold no real certainty. But I bade you to tell Benia to be careful and that when she decides she wishes to leave, I am sure we can arranged for her departure to go unnoticed, if she so wishes it."

The hobbit woman was stunned by Léspheria words but she nodded that she would do as she asked. As Gilly turned to leave Léspheria whispered to her, "Take a deep breath miz Gilly it would be most wise if you walk back to the room looking as though we have spoken of no more than the soup you are carrying. The hobbit woman nodded and taking a deep breath she pushed through the door to the common room.

Lespheria was about to follow when she felt a hand grasp her wrist, "And were do you think you are off to" Vinca scolded. Lespheria lifted a puzzled eyebrow, "Do not think I have not noticed that you have not eaten since breakfast!" Vinca continued waving her finger warningly. Léspheria bit back a chuckle and sat, she had totally forgotten that she had no yet had lunch herself. Not wishing to incur the wrath of the strong willed hobbit woman, she heartily ate the soup placed before her. "That was simply the best soup I have ever tasted" she complimented, as she washed up her dishes. Vinca beamed proudly but said nothing.

Léspheria then grabbed a damp cloth from beside the sink and went out into the common room to wipe down the tables. As she worked she kept a close eye on the battle scarred ranger, she also made a mental note to tell Aman of her concerns at the first opportunity.

It was late in the afternoon when she saw Vanwe enter the kitchen, she thought to go speak with the elven woman in private, but that would mean removing her watch of the ranger. No! she thought resolutely the elven woman would come to her when she was ready.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Nurumaiel]

Ruddyn opened his eyes and blinked in the bright sunlight that was streaming through the small window by his bed. He blinked again with confusion. He was sure he had closed the curtains earlier that morning when he had told Fendadia he was taking a short nap. Fendadia must have crept into his room and pulled them open. She would do that back home, as well, if he were sleeping in too late. So what time was it?

Ruddyn threw back the warm blankets and sat up in bed. What a beautiful bed, as well! Ever since he and Fendadia had left Gondor it had been roots as matresses and rocks as pillows. He felt amazed to think how they had ever kept up energy to reach the Shire. Why, after that sleep he had just had, he felt as though he could walk a week without stopping.

Reaching down to the floor, he picked up his boots and slid them on his feet one at a time, quickly lacing them up. Standing up, he grinned as his feet hit a wooden floor. When was the last time he had walked on wood. He could just imagine Fendadia's voice saying, "This morning, when you walked into the inn."

It didn't take Ruddyn long to get downstairs. He was accustomed to sleeping in his clothes so Fendadia and he could set out from wherever they were camping in just a few minutes, and he hadn't yet got out of that habit.

His boots hit heavily on the stairs as he traveled downwards, his nostrils catching the smell of food baking. No doubt Fendadia was already eating, or had finished. As he finished the last few steps, he asked himself again what time it was. He had forgotten to look up at the sun to see when he had woken up a few minutes earlier.

Fendadia was sitting at a table right by the stairs, probably to wait for him. He didn't even see her and was about to walk right by her, but she caught hold of his sleeve and pulled him down into the empty chair across form her, grinning widely as if she had just played some good joke on him. "You're finally awake," she said, chuckling softly.

"What time is it?" Ruddyn asked, confused. No need to ask what was so funny. He would most likely know that when he knew what the time was.

"It's afternoon already," his little sister replied, and then she laughed aloud as she saw his bewildered amazement. She pointed to an empty plate in front of her. "Dinner is already through, and they're probably getting ready for supper right now, but if you're really hungry you can ask for a late dinner."

Ruddyn was starving, but he felt embarrassed having slept in so late, and he didn't want to go apologize for that and ask for a late dinner. The bother they'd have to go through, and soon everyone at the inn would know that he had slept in late. He took a deep breath and then smiled pleasantly at Fendadia. After all, he had only taken a very long nap. "I'm not hungry," he said. "I can wait."

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[Dorelnar]

As of late Dorelnar could feel things in the world that where not there before. Just and true was the lady that sat near him now. She seemed drawn to him and he to her.

But why......?

The intricate pattern of her dress and the beauty of her face was liken to a light from heaven. But she was a high born much to special for him. Yet he knew this light in her would draw him near no matter how he tried.

He remembered the words of the wise. "Woe to those that kinder warmth in there hart for those of the first born."

All the orthers laughed and told storys he seems in good company. But still he could not stop looking on this fair Elvin maiden.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Dorelnar ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

OCC: I am so sorry

Aman stood just behind the door, one hand on the handle, ready to turn it as fast as possible. Buttercup was outside the door, positioned at the bar, awaiting the signal. Aman counted to three slowly, then yelled something incomprehensible, or if there were actual words in it, they would certainly be incomprehensible through the door. Buttercup heard this signal and immediately took a deep breath and yelled in her biggest voice across the common room:

"The mathoms display is outside in the stableyard NOW!"

There was a confused moment, then the entire mob of mathom-mad hobbits, curious men and elves, and just about everyone else in the Inn who had managed to get caught in the crowd, all turned as one and charged out the door with the air of a determined balrog crossed with an insane oliphaunt. Aman smiled at this image as she twisted the handle sharply and threw herself out of the room and straight behind the bar, hands over head to protect against the wall of the mob/deranged oli-rog, as she had begun to think of it, the door being slammed shut from behind by Ruby.

After a second in which all of the Inn was quiet, Aman's eyes popped up over the bar and swivelled furtively around. When she was sure the coast was clear, she stood up with all the dignity she could muster, brushing her dress down and smoothing back her hair. Buttercup nodded solemly, trying to suppress her smile. "Nicely done, miss."

"Thankyou, Buttercup. Thanks to my cunning plan and your bravery and faithfullness to it, we have once more evaded the oli-rog." Aman replied with similar solemnity. They shared a look for a moment, then burst out laughing together.

"Aman!"

The righteous, matronly voice cut through their laughter. Buttercup suddenly realised that she had to be very busy going back to sort out the mathoms and Aman was left to face the rage of Vinca Bunce. Never challenge the rage of Vinca Bunce. Aman turned guiltily to see the hobbit standing, hands on hips.

"I don't recall seeing you having lunch."

"I can explain-"

"You can explain that you somehow ate the sandwiches despite the fact that they are still on the table."

"Not...exactly...I was just...." She stopped sheepishly. It seemed to be becoming a habit. "Sorry, Cook."

Cook nodded, still disapproving but somewhat less so. "First Vanwe, then you..."

"Vanwe didn't eat lunch either?"

A look of concerned disapproval for Vanwe replaced the look of matronly disapproval for Aman, and she pursed her lips worriedly. "No indeed. She has been acting rather oddly lately. When I caught her looking around in the pantry and accused her of skipping meals then sneaking around my pantry- my voice was firm, mind, no mistake about that, but it wasn't a really strict firmness, more a...kind firmness-"

Aman nodded vaguely, and decided that it was best not to say anything on that score. Cook continued.

"-and she jumped to the conclusion that I was calling her a thief, and seemed awfully upset about such. I called her nothing of the sort, so you know! But then she churned out some cock and bull story about fetching sheets for you. Behind the honey, I ask you..."

But Aman wasn't listening any more. Vanwe's behaviour had been very odd before, when she had been speaking to Benia- all this 'Mistress' business. And she was so thin, and did seem awfully skittish...

"....and you haven't listened to a word I've said in the past minute, have you now?"

"Hmmm?" Aman turned, snapping back to Cook's words. The hobbit sighed, exasperated, then rolled her eyes and nodded to the kitchen. "Oh, never mind. Are you coming to catch up on lunch then?"

"I-" Aman began to make an excuse, before she heard the sound of voices outside, and in particular one sentence that would chill the blood of someone who had just pulled a very temporary cunning plan. The words, muffled from outside, of:

"Hey, the sale isn't out here!"

Aman turned back to Cook and began to propel them both towards the kitchen quickly. Cook was surprised, but glad that Aman had seen sense. Aman took in the room quickly, and even now saw the first hobbit of the Mob come through the door. She would never make it to the room of mathoms again- she had to take another way. Going quickly into the kitchen, she bypassed the table, laden with sandwiches, and the sink where Vanwe was dutifully finishing her washing up, and went to a panel in the wall. The entire kitchen was panelled with wood, but Aman had found out a few tricks since she came. Pushing on each of the panels in a certain area, just to the right of the large cupboard, she found the one she needed and pulled the panel off to reveal a tunnel into the mathom room.

Cook stared, too shocked to be outraged. Finally, as Aman pulled up a chair and, hitching her skirts up carefully, scrambled into the tunnel, Cook moved back to safer ground, brandishing the sandwiches. "What about your lunch?"

"Later, Cook. Sorry. Vanwe, come on, we have a mathom sale to run." Aman's muffled voice replied. Vanwe glanced apologetically at Cook, dipping her head, then followed Aman though the tunnel. A second later, there was the sound of feet dropping on the floor of the other side, first one pair, then another.

Cook watched them, gobsmacked, then gave a little "oooohh..." sound as she let her breath out. Still disapproving, but a little impressed now, Cook turned, broom in hand to face the mob outside.

"Right, ladies and gentlemen, there will indeed be a mathom sale- five minutes!"

[piosenniel]

NOTE: THERE ARE TO BE NO SAVES PLACED ON THE GREEN DRAGON INN THREAD.

With the exception of those that may be placed by a moderator or the Innkeeper for special circumstances.

Also, please do not make any OOC (Out Of Character) comments on the Inn Thread - PM the person(s) you need to contact.

Again the exception is for the moderators or Innkeeper to make announcements or adjustments to the storyline.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

The corner's of Aleia's mouth lifted in amusement as she listened to Madea's answer and watched the hobbits, crazed with the possibility of mathoms, stampede out the door. Laughter bubbled inside her and she chuckled out loud. "I'm sorry, lass," she said to Madea. "A mathom is not a party or a place. A mathom is a little trinket, much like one that an older hobbit would get at a birthday-party. Something nice to put on a mantle. Hobbits go wild over them."

Madea turned a little red as she realized her mistake, but shook it off quickly. "Miss Took, about that conversation-"

"Madea Obisentauri! For the tenth time, call me Aleia! I absolutely abhor formalities!" Aleia said heatedly. One thing that she disliked most of all was being called "Miss" or "Ms", except for when she was in charge. Her expression softened when she saw the startled look on Madea's face. "Carry on, girl."

[Ealasaid]

Between the combined efforts of the two elves, Vanwe and Lespheria, Benia found her ankle well bound and set, the pain already subsiding. Grateful, she thanked the both of them, and Silvanis again as well. She drank the thyme tea slowly, savoring the warmth. Before she knew it, the room was empty aside from herself and Silvanis, the others having gone on to other chores, or, in Gilly's case, to fetch dinner.

She smiled at Silvanis over the brim of her tea cup. "I don't know how I can ever repay you," she said in the dialect of the southern desert. "I am forever indebted to you. You and the others. You are all too kind."

In response, Silvanis inclined his head slightly and answered in the same language. "Speaking for myself, m'lady, I can safely say you owe me nothing. I did what any man should do. Nothing more."

"Nothing more!" echoed Benia, dropping back into the common speech. "And certainly nothing less. Even so, I must tell you. I am not one to forget a kindness." She put the now empty tea cup aside. "But, tell me... how is it that one such as yourself would speak the language of my kinsmen?"

Silvanis smiled. "I have done no small amount of travelling in my time," he answered obliquely. "But, by the same token, I might ask how a desert lady such as yourself might come to be this far north."

"I came to visit my friend Gilly," Benia answered, still smiling, but her fingers felt the hem of her bodice for the red stone. "She doesn't travel beyond the borders of the Shire. Therefore, if I wish to see her, I must come north." Locating the stone, Benia slipped it out of the hidden pocket and palmed it neatly between her fingers. Her instincts told her to trust Silvanis, but she still harbored doubts about the stone... if he had been the one to give to her. And, if so, why. Carefully, she repositioned herself on the mat and smoothed her skirts. She gave her ankle a rueful glance. "And, from the look of it, I will be staying in the north for a little while, yet."

He gestured to the open pack in the corner and the pile of packages Gilly had retrieved from the foot of the stairs. "It seems you were preparing to leave."

"I was." For an instant, her expression darkened. There were people who expected her. If she didn't arrive as planned, they would assume that she had been detained or worse. If only someone could get word to them. She gave the Ranger a considering look. But could he be trusted? She felt the stone, small and hard between her fingers. She had to stop wavering. Surely, if Silvanis had meant her harm, he would have done something toward that end by now, she thought. Finally, she came to a decision.

"Could you help me, please?" she asked, holding out her hand. "I would very much like to move to the chair." Taking the proffered hand, Silvanis wrapped his other arm around her waist and assisted her to the chair. When she was seated comfortably, she released his hand.

When he looked down, there on his palm was the red stone, shining darkly in the lamp light.

[Elora]

Tunnels through walls in buildings! Vanwe, suitably bewildered by the mysterious panel Aman had pulled aside, and the entirely dissatisfied mood of the Mathom sale attendees that rippled like a stormy sea, mutely followed Aman through to the mathom room. The announcement that the sale would begin in five minutes meant there was no time for explanations, questions or indeed anything other than hard work.

The mob had moved inside, to get a reckoning of the larrikin who had announced a fictious mathom sale. Aman and Vanwe frantically set out the mathoms that had been saved from the pyre. The stableyard started to fill with a strange array of oddities and curiosities. Meanwhile, inside, hobbits muttered fitfully about pranksters and what happened to people who cried wolf.

"There haven't been wolves here since the Fell Winter of 2911," some said with a great air of knowledge. Debate soon ensued over who had seen a wolf, where and why anyone who lived near the Brandywine River was by definition mad. It took longer than five minutes to set the mathoms out on the trestles that had been arranged in the stableyard, but that was well and good as there was more than one Took descendant who felt impelled to explain why they were not mad and the rest of the Shire plainly was.

In the stableyard, Aman and Vanwe gathered their breath.

"I think that's all of it," Vanwe said.
"There's always more to be found," Aman said ruefully. This was one sale that would not end swiftly. Mathoms had the unusual ability to profligate as soon as one's back was turned. The trouble now was how to get them back out into the stableyards.

"I can open the door and announce the sale has begun if you like. Cook will not take a second delay to lunch," Vanwe observed. Aman saw to retracing their steps back to the mathom room, and the tunnel. What would happen should a curious hobbit find a secret tunnel to a mathom room did not bear considering, and there were a number of Tooks in the immediate vicinity.

Vanwe opened the front doors to the commonroom and conversation stumbled to a halt. She'd never been faced with so many people, faces turned to her in expectation. It was daunting, not least because there was not telling who in that crowd watched.

"The mathom sale has begun in the stable yard, ladies and gentlemen," Vanwe said as loudly as she could. Cook waved her broom and the mob was again on the move. Vanwe raced aside to the thunder of feet and then cries of triumph.

"They're here!"
"Will you look at that!"
"That looks familiar!"

High hobbit voices filled the afternoon and soon the business had begun. There was trading to be done, and Vanwe found herself surrounded by a ring of hobbits, all clutching something and demanding sale. Nothing had prices marked, but despite this the bargaining was already begun before Vanwe could hope to say anything.

"Three coppers!"
"No, ignore her. I'll give you 5!"
"You've already got one. Six coppers"

Around her the bargaining circled, mathoms changing hands, coppers being thrust at her. Vanwe struggled to watch the mathoms that were still being inspected. Two Elves stood in obvious delight as they watched hobbits snap up objects that had no discernable use unless they were a shipwright, a Dwarven smith, a Corsair or some such other remote profession of distant lands. None of this dampened enthusiasm. Be it a plough disk, or a ship's navigational divides, mathoms were mathoms and highly sought after.

Vanwe did as best as she could, coppers soon besting the small pocket she had in her dress. A kindly hobbit doffed his hat as she noticed her struggle with the coins and offered her it.

"Take it," he said as he nodded to a fine seeming mathom, "you'll need it and I need that." Vanwe did not argue, she did need it, and what possible use he had for a very old packet of unidentified seeds she did have the time to wonder about. Around her the bargaining went on. Organised chaos the likes of which she had never seen, not even in the markets of Umbar, and so many copper coins that she could scarcely contemplate how much food, shoes, dresses, nice warm baths or even a horse to spare one's feet could be bought with such wealth.

She let the coins fall into the hat in a seemingly ceaseless stream.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Alatariel went up to the counter and ordered a glass of wine. Taking it she went back to her table in the corner, her hood still towering over her face, leaving it shadowed and barely visible to the common eye. She sat down on the chair facing the rest of the crowd.

She sipped the wine, as she watched the people in the Inn. Most of them were all wrapped up in their lives. None of them paid attention to Alatariel, and she like it that way... She sipped the wine as she watched the other people walk by. They were several races, some that Alatariel knew very little about. She waited there, for him to come...


There was a noise behind her. Alatariel jerked her head around. There, on the ground, was a note, blown by a soft breeze, even thought there were no open windows. She got up and walked over to the note. Picking it up, she saw how messy the handwriting was. The note read:

Dear Marya, I'm sorry I was unable to be here for you return. I am also sorry for the messy writing, but I left in a hurry, and I can't write neat fast. I had to leave on a personal matter, I will return... someday. I did not want ye to wait up for me, I did not want to waste ye time. I cannot write anymore at the moment, but do expect me to keep in touch, from now on I shall go by the name of Mungo.

Goodbye, your hobbit friend, Mungo.

Alatariel reread the messy note, written in red ink. She folded it up, and set it in her pouch. Her fingers hit a cold metal object. She grasped it and took it out. It was a gold charm on a gold chain. She looked over it, and quickly put it away.

Alatariel took the last few sips of her wine, and went out to the stables. She walked over to the black stallion. He neighed at her sight. She walked into his stable. Taking an apple out of her pouch, he stomped his hooves. Alatariel held it out to him, and he took it eagerly. "So bow, how do you like it here? Huh?"

He neighed after finishing the apple. Alatariel smiled, which was still barely visible under her hood. She leaned against him. Then, widening the door, she walked him outside. It started raining as Alatariel said, "Go! Run! Be wild! Have some fun!" The black stallion started in a fast gallop; he trotted away in the rain, Alatariel watching him go...

[Everdawn]

"you see what I mean, when i say i have no idea about the outside world?" Madea laughed. "I really am quite clueless. Yes, i suppose i shall go and take look, couldnt hurt could it? And yes, i do suppose that I should buy one, i do have far and away enough money."

Madea took of her black leather gloves and fiddled thorugh her bag to find a small green pouch enclosing a vast emount of gold.

"Why do you wear so much black Madea? colours would suit you better." The hobbit smiled looking at Madea's black fur lined cloak and riding habit.

"That was a little out of the blue dont you think?" said Madea laughing. "To answer your question, id say that Black, is the only colour that seems to suit my mood. You are right, colour should look better on me. And i do need to get some more clothes. I dont suppose there are shops around that sell dresses for people other than hobbits? am i correct? Perhaps you could tell me where i can find someone whom i can pay for the the service?" replied Madea in her usual polite tone.

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~* CHARACTERS NEEDED FOR NEW GAME *~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Corsairs and Corsets needs the following characters:

Ladies and Maids/Female Servants for an exciting game of Court intrigue. Good characters and Evil characters welcome.

Also need 1 husband for one of the owners’ characters.

(Male and Female writers welcome to try out for any of these characters. Stretch your writing skills a little – play a character of the opposite sex.)

This will be a very fun Game to write in!

Click HERE (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000082&p=1) for the Discussion Thread for this Game.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

It had troubled Gilly greatly to leave Benia alone with the ranger Silvanis. For although he had shown great kindness, there remained a possibility of his being in league with the more sinister fellow in the commons room. She found comfort in Léspheria’s confidence in the man, and even more in Benia’s apparent trust, but the mention of his trading in the south was not lost on the hobbit. Perhaps the value such a culture had placed on their hospitality to strangers had masked from Silvanis the harshness with which they dealt with one another. It was a harshness no doubt exacerbated by The War, and the deep distrust that the struggle had produced in the region. Benia was a product of this very thing. Her rather influential maternal family had caused a deep rift when they had not chosen the common path of the southerners at that crucial juncture, and from thence stemmed their many misfortunes. Their independent actions were not forgotten nor forgiven them.

Gilly followed Léspheria into the kitchen, realm of Mrs. Vinca Bunce, cook at the Green Dragon. She couldn’t help but smile as she saw Miss Vinca completely at ease surrounded by the tools of her craft. Gilly had been in awe of her vast culinary skills ever since Mr. Bunce’s birthday party many years ago, shortly before his sad passing way. Her smile grew a bit broader as she thought of Mr. Bunce’s sister Myrtle, even now on the steps just outside inn, waiting to see what treasures the inn’s attic had produced. Miss Mytle Bunce had evidently been the beneficiary of her sister-in-law’s active reconnaissance efforts, but this bit of intelligence was safe with Gilly. No need to ruffle anyone’s feathers and I’ve a greater weight on my mind, she reasoned.

“Oh, Miss Gilly, don’t tell me it was your friend that injured herself!” Miss Vinca exclaimed seeing Gilly in the doorway.

“Yes Miss Vinca, I’m afraid it is only too true. Still it is better for her to have injured herself here at the inn than on the road and alone!”

“Well don’t you fret none dear, we’ll have her up and about in no time. Best medicine in the world is proper nourishment and that she will have! No! No, the bigger ones!” the matron boldly scolded Léspheria, who had been preparing a tray with three bowls. “Wholesome food heals broken bones as well as broken spirits!”

After the cook bestowed upon Gilly a tray heavily laden with generous portions of fragrant mushroom soup and crusty bread, Léspheria drew Gilly aside to give her perceptive and earnest counsel before sending her back upstairs.

The hobbit tried to put into practice the elf’s advice, but did manage to see the scared ranger still kept his vigil with back toward the kitchen and eyes frequently returning to the top of the stairs.

Gilly also saw her neighbor Myrtle was tottling over to the bar, mopping her damp face with her handkerchief and examining a sign that was newly hung there. Going by the hobbit unnoticed, Gilly continued up the stairs to rejoin Benia and Silvanis.

Benia was now in the chair with her leg extended out before her resting on a low table. Her sword, no longer behind the chair, had been placed at her left side. Silvanis sat opposite her on the room’s only other chair. The two looked up from their conversation as Gilly entered with their food.
Seeing no place for the hobbit to sit, Silvanis set about procuring an additional chair.

Gilly handed Benia her food speaking softly, “Just as your fall has not gone unnoticed, the arrival of the horseman the morning has also been marked. It seems that he has a watchful eye on this room. But do not fear Miss Benia. You are not alone in this matter. Miss Léspheria has asked me to give you warning and to offer her assistant should you desire a convert departure. She has guessed much.”

[ June 20, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[spirit_detective]

Aranti now sat atop the roof, gazing into the west. She pulled out a cloth cover object from her knapsack and pulled the string. A small round orb appeared in her hand, a palantir. Hearing movement outside, she quickly stoed it away and peered over the edge of the roof.

It was only a group of people making their way out. She sat back and crossed her arms in an almost childish manner.

"Oh, where in Eru's name is the girl!" she threw a fallen twig over the edge and scanned the horizon.

"I hope she knows I'm not being payed to wait for her." She stifled herself when she heard the gates opening and watched as the group rode away.

"Why am I worrying myself?" she asked with a rare grin, "She always shows up!" Little did she know, the person she was waiting for wasn't truly that far off.

[Snowdog]

""But, tell me... how is it that one such as yourself would speak the language of my kinsmen?"

Benia asked, her voice seemingly softening as she spoke. Silvanis smiled slightly and said,

'I have done no small amount of travelling in my time, especially after the war. It was then I journeyed south as a representative of King Elessar to Harad and Khand, and though the people were wary of the northerners, they for the most part accepted the new-found freedom under the King. Yet there was troubles, especially with some renegade Variags that hid in the hills of Khand. After my return and my release from the King's service, I returned to the north for a time, living about the Twilight Hills near Evendim, and for a time before returning south. I then spent much time in the desert, at a crossing of the ancient Haradian trading routes that was in the language of Haarad called the Oasis Inn. It was there I learned this dialect.'

Silvanis saw no harm in telling her this, for he had been both north and south in that time. If only he could find peace...

Noting the lady was about to leave, he too was going to leave, and needed to return to Blackveil who had probably returned to the grass field to graze. But as she asked for help to the chair, he took her graceful hand and supported her, assuring she was comfortably situated in the chair. She seemed somewhat hesitant to release his hand, but as she did, there she had slid the stone, just the same way that he aquired it that day at the Oasis!

Silvanis sat in the other chair silent, looking at the stone in his palm then looking at Benia. Yes, she figured who slid her the stone, and as their eyes locked, he was about to say something only the one who had passed him the stone at the oasis would know when the door opened and Gilly came in with Benia's food.

The time spent in converse with Lady Nightshade left him with ever more questions, and he did not fail to take note of how she side-stepped his askance of how she had come to the north. For since if Gilly did not leave the Shire as she said, then how did this friendship between hobbit and southern lady emerge? Yet all have their secrets, and in his mind Silvanis weighed the possibility also that the man who came in just before he carried Benia to her room had interest in her.

Many things he needed to see to before moving on it seemed, and with Gilly's entrance, he closed his hand about the stone and stood, offering the chair to Gilly as he gave a nod to Benia.

'I will visit the common room for a moment and return later with a chair. But for now I leave you ladies to converse and lunch.'

Another look to Benia who seemed concerned that Silvanis was leaving the room, and with his look he tried to re-assure her, and he slipped out the door in silence, letting it close easy behind him.

Silvanis paused outside the door, first spotting the man with the tankard of ale who watched him emerge before sipping his drink, and also strained to hear the faint words of Gilly behind the door.

“Just ....... fall ... not ... unnoticed .... arrival ..... horseman ....... marked. It ........... watch ........... room.”

He heard enough to confirm at least somewhat his question as to whether this man had interest in Benia. Of course being that she is indeed fair to the eye, especially being of the south in these climes, could be all the reason the man had of eyeing her, but one cannot be too sure of thewse things.

Silvanis was down to the commons quickly without a glance to the man, but he watched hin from the edge of his eye, and stepping to the bar he ordered two tankards of wha the man ordered. After the foamy tankards were set, he scooped then in his hands and made way to the table where he sat. His approach drew nary a glance from Kaldir as he drained his mug. Silvanis pulled the chair directly opposite him and sat blocking somewhat his view of the stairwell and the door atop them, which turned his look toward Silvanis.

'Have an ale my friend!'

Silvanis looked him in the eye as he spoke...

[ June 20, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman had also procurred a hat for herself to store her money in- and coming in it was. As to why there was a top hat in an attic in the Shire was complete mystery, but no matter, mysteries were becoming commonplace as Aman saw mathoms selling that she wouldn't have thought a blind beggar would've wanted. But the Innkeeper was getting a feel for the sale, she thought, and the value of the odd objects.

“I’ll give you two bronze for that.” A red faced hobbit announced, pointing to a bizarrely shaped vase.

Aman raised an eyebrow. It was rather a nice vase, she decided, and decided to attempt bargaining. “Five.”

“I’ll give you five,” he scoffed in reply. “and won’t report you to the authorities for daylight robbery.”

Now both Aman’s eyebrows rose as she thought of Halfred Whitfoot, the postman cum Shirrif. The hobbits cocky expression wavered slightly as he thought of the same, before he spoke again. “Four.” He conceded.

“Done. And this, I’ll throw this in for another three.” Aman offered, holding up a hat, covered in tassels and bright orange in colour. The man’s eyes widened and he nodded violently, but before he could say anything, the hat was grabbed out of his hand by a fierce looking hobbit woman. “I don’t think so! That hat’s my territory!”

“No mine! I wanted it as a souvenir before the rest of you even saw it!” A man, looming about the other two although he was actually several inches shorter than Aman, said, then turned to the Rohirrim woman. “I’ll give you 10 for it!”

Furious gasps from the other two, before the red faced hobbit exclaimed, “You would take something so beautiful for just ten?!”

“You would have taken it for three!” The man replied.

“I never!” Declared the man. He fished in his pocket, pulling out roughly ten bronze coins. “Here, Innkeeper, take this!”

“No you will not! Aman, have 12!”

“Well, I never! Its mine!” the woman threw a few more in.

As the coins poured into the dusty top hat from there and all directions, Aman gave up on trying to intervene, and pulled up two equally bizarre hats which she had spotted previously. “Look, each of you can have one for fifteen bronze!”

“Done!” All three cried at once, and began fishing in bags and pockets for the rest which they had not yet paid. As Aman hadn’t been able to keep up with how much they had put in before, she simply had to trust them, but trust them she did; hobbits took mathoms seriously.

Bewildered by all that was going on, Aman simply stopped trying to intervene, simply returning to the traditional method of coin tossing when there was a dispute, and allowed the chaos around her to keep coming with the money, only coming up on a real problem a few moments later when telling a young elven woman that no, the top hat and all its contents were not for sale. She smiled at Vanwe’s equally bewildered face, and just hoped that that pickpocket wasn’t in the vicinity of the sale…

[Mindez]

Mindez walks up towards the Green Dragon inn. He had been here many times, of course, but only stayed for a day or two before moving out in search of more adventure. He stepped inside the green dragon inn. It was familiar to him, and he knew some of the people, and it was very busy. He pushed through the crowd, searching frantically for a table, or a seat at the least. When he realised he wouldn't get a seat, he started pushing through the crowds again, searching back for the door.


He reached the door, and stepped outside. The surroundings were, again, familiar. He passed through here many times on his way to find adventure. He went towards the stables where his horse was waiting. He entered the stable door, and looked round the rows of horses. He recognised his horse, Elkin, immediately, of course. Elkin had been with Mindez for many years now, through many adventures. Mindez stood stroking Elkin, saying he'd go back to the Green dragon when it was less crowded.

[Belethfacwen]

Beleth walked up to the door at the Green Dragon, with a careful step, as if she might trip at any moment. Surveying the wood of the door as if it might come alive and try to harm her, and letting her small, plump hand rest a minute on the handle, she again very carefully pushed it open.

She stepped in, glancing around the inn at all of the people currently present. She tucked a stray lock of mousy brown hair that had fallen in her face, and her expression changed suddenly. From her cautious, mouselike look of shy fear, her face spread into a wide, glad smile as she looked around. Her gait also changed to a more confident, bouncier stride, making it all of a sudden look as if she'd completed a long, difficult journey to get here and was finally enjoying familiarity again. In truth, she had done nearly the opposite. A small smile was still lingering on her face as she stepped further in, and slid into a seat.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Aman seemed to be doing an excellent job of supervising the jumble sale that had been set up in the rear courtyard of the Inn. Hobbits were crowding around digging deep in their pockets and coming up with pennies and farthings to pay for the assorted treasures. Once or twice Derufin had to interrupt to keep a fist fight from breaking out. But, all in all, things were going smoothly.

Cami waved a friendly hand over at Neniel. For someone who was not a hobbit, she seemed to have picked up a real feeling for the mathoms and had learned how to handle the prospective buyers rather quickly. She'd been an enormous help in preparing the items for sale and in displaying them neatly on the wide trestle tables.

Despite the protests of many of the Big Folk that they would not be caught dead buying such junk, Cami noticed that many of them inched over to the tables surreptitiously eyeing the treasures. Then, when they thought no one was looking, they paid for their little purchases and stuffed them into pockets and bags before hurrying back inside the Inn. Perhaps, reflected Cami, even the Big Folk had a little piece of hobbit deep inside.

Cami's own interest was drawn to a table where a stack of old books was on display. Many of them were dog earred and had seen better days with the pages coming loose from the binding. A few were in better condition. These almost looked as if no one had ever read them, but merely kept them on a shelf as decorations. Cami did not approve of this.

Amid the stacks of commonplace items there were a few that truly caught her eye. Cami picked up one of the old treasures on the table and opened the cover to glance inside. It looked to be a journal or diary written out in a child's awkward script. The cover of the book read "My Adventures in Buckland" by Rory Brandybuck, son of Gorbadoc and Mirabella. Cami's heart pounded fiercely as she read the faint inscription which the lad had written on the inside of the front cover:

To my father.

I hope you enjoy these tales, I've written them for you as a mathom on my sixteenth birthday. Mommy says I'm following in the footsteps of our ancestor Rory Oldbuck, son of Merimac, who was such a great adventurer and hunter of Orcs.

Your son, Rorimac Brandybuck

Cami clutched the volume to her chest with tears welling up in her eyes. Rorimac Brandybuck, descendent of Merimac Oldbuck and his son Rory. A little inscription that had survived all the way to the Fourth Age, hearkening back to family memories that stretched back over two thousand years.

She really shouldn't be looking at something like this. She expected to return to her home in Greenwood sometime soon. But there was no Gandalf to tell her no, and her curiosity got the better of her. She deposited a few coins in Aman's hat, and slipped the book inside her apron pocket, determined to read it once and then leave it sitting on the small table that stood by her bed after she'd returned to her home.

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

"Hmm...a custom dress-maker," mused Aleia. Furrowing her brow in frustration, she racked her memory for someone that made dresses for Big Folk. Suddenly she snapped her fingers. "I know where you could get some clothes! Marian Boffin. It's a bit of a journey to her house, but she makes custom dresses for anyone that comes to her door with silver in their pockets."

Madea listened intently as Aleia told her the directions to Marian's hobbit-hole. When she was finished, she said, "Thank you, Mis - Aleia. Now, before I go to get my clothes, let's share a plate of food and have an ale." Aleia nodded and smiled in approval. Just then, a young girl entered the Dragon, looking for all the world like a mouse that had wandered into an owl's nest. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she smiled, walking with a bounce in her step all the way to her seat.

Aleia nudged Madea, who had also seen the sudden change in the girl, and said, "See? That's what the Inn does to you. Best place in all the land to sit back and have an ale." Aleia leaned back in her seat and nodded knowingly to Madea, who chuckled and called Ruby over to order some food.

[drabestmage]

After standing outside for slong time Waenchamior walked in to the inn. He noticed a woman sitting by herself. She was looking around the room.


Since he was new to the area he figured he should make some friends. "Hi miss", he said, "have you travled far?"

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

[Elora]

Vanwe eased her way from the Mathom sale with a hobbit hat filled with coppers. With Aman and Derufin to keep some semblance of order, she decided that she would be entirely more comfortable if the princely sum she presently held was in the keeping of someone less questionable than a runaway. The commonroom was quiter, the crowd milling around the stableyards, and Vanwe made immediately for the kitchens.

"Pardon, Mistress Cook, but I have some proceeds from the sale," Vanwe stated. Cook looked up from the lamb broth she was readying for the evening.

"Well, nice as a hat full of coppers are, Vanwe, I can hardly include them in this. The copper would ruin the taste!"

Vanwe's brow furrowed until she realised that Cook was not serious.

"Oh, I thought it would be better kept in here for Aman when she is finished," she explained. Cook waved with the knife she had been slicing carrots with at a corner that Vanwe promptly set the hat down in. She emptied out her pocket too. That done, Vanwe stepped back out. Her throat was dry after the day fliting about the inn. The cool earthen jug of water that sat at the corner of the bar beckoned. Vanwe made for that, pouring out a cup that sat next to the jug.

The water was a welcome relief in more ways than one. She was thirsty, and it did not cost her money she did not possess. The maiden sat, cup in her long fingered and surprisingly delicate hands. Vanwe took to swirling the water within the cup, careful not to spill any. Water was not something to be wasted, even in the lush north. She gradually let the water still, her reflection peering back at her. She pondered it, and how to sort things out.

The face that gazed back up at her was supposedly uncannily like her mothers, and Vanwe allowed herself to fall into an old habit. She stared at the reflection, wondering what her mother looked at, and where she was, and even that she stared back at her instead of empty water. It was a foolish indulgence, yet it brought a wistful smile to her usually serious Elven face and revealed just how young and old she truly was. Vanwe imagined emerald eyes instead of her own sapphire ones, and forgot all the other tales that cloaked her mother's identity. She ignored the frayed collar of her dress, and saw only her mother, the mother she had wished she had and still secretly hoped she would find instead of the truth that lay somewhere out there.

[Amanaduial the archer]

As the afternoon turned to evening, many of the mathoms had indeed been eagerly swept up, as Cami had predicted, and the crowds had begun to drift away, although many did so with anxious inquiries as to whether the sale would be on tomorrow. Aman, looking around at the piles of remaining mathoms- diminished but still formidable- then at the hats which sat behind her, almost bursting, and had replied yes, definitely.

Entering the Inn, she saw Vanwe, sitting alone, staring into a cup of water. She first supposed that the girl must have fallen asleep, for a peaceful smile was on her face, and the Innkeeper could not see her eyes in the swift glance she shot at her, so she proceeded into the kitchen. Cami looked up from some potatoes she was chopping and, smiling, nodded to the corner behind her. "Vanwe left in her proceeds for the sale." She explained.

Aman picked up the soft hat which Vanwe had deposited, now as full as her own pair of smaller ones. The Innkeeper could not help beaming; the three hats glinted with bronze, and even some silver, coins.

"Well, it seems that all funds that may have been needed for the naming ceremony are covered," She murmured. Turning to Cook, she raised her voice to its normal level. "Cook, do you know how much wine we have in at the moment?"

Vinca raised an eyebrow, then returned her attention to her potatoes. "I do food, not drink, Miss Aman. You still have your key to the winecellar?"

"Yes, Cook." Aman replied, with a smile- when talking to Cook, she had become accustomed to feeling rather like a forgetful schoolchild. Fumbling with the keys on her belt, she walked out of the kitchen, her head filled with thoughts of the food and drinks for the naming ceremony. With the profit from the mathoms, she would no doubt be able to catch one of the men, or hobbits, who was leaving for Bree tonight- there was bound to be one or two at least. Butterbur may be have been forgetful, and a little doddery, but Eru knows that he had some good contacts for fine wine.

As she opened the door behind the bar to go down to the wine cellar, where the 'fancier stuff', as Cook called it, was kept, she looked up again to see Vanwe still sitting there. Staring longingly into her cup. On her face was an expression of utmost yearning. Puzzled, Aman stopped, peering at Vanwe.

"Vanwe?"

The Innkeeper's voice seemed to shake Vanwe from her reverie, and she jogged forward visibly. Looking up almost guiltily, she seemed startled to see Aman. Puzzled, Aman continued.

"Are you quite alright, Vanwe?"

[Envinyatar]

Derufin had wisely avoided the mathom sale. The headache which had so plagued him at the beginning of the day still lingered, an incipient threat crouching at his temples. Better to avoid the noisy, jostling crowds of mathom-maddened Hobbits, and seek the quiet of the stable.

He was happy, of course, to have set up the sawhorse tables for Miz Cami and for Mistress Aman. It was after all to benefit the party the Inn would throw when Mistress Piosenniel and her wee ones arrived. And he was happy, too, to learn that a good deal of coins had been taken in. But happiest of all was he as he sat in the cool shadows of the stable with Falmar, his critic and companion, to look over his shoulder.

‘Now what do you think of this one?’ he asked, holding the small willow wood figure of a neeker-breeker up for inspection. Motes of dust danced in the shaft of light he held it in, giving it a fey look. Falmar shook her head as if to approve, and he set it down on the table beside him, next to the yellow basswood carving of a small fierce dragon.

‘Hmmm . . . what shall I do next?’ Falmar’s head dipped down, and she nosed the block of ebon-wood. ‘You’re right, my friend,’ answered Derufin. ‘We do need some shadow creatures, don’t we?’ He picked up the block of dark wood, and sawed it into small discrete cubes. Taking up one, he blew the wood dust from its surface, and turned it round in his fingers.

‘An Orc, I think. With some orcish blade in hand. Do you agree?’

Falmar tapped her front hoof soundly on the ground, and snorted her approval. Derufin picked up his small carving knife and began to ease the gruesome figure from the wood.

[Rachel McSchnozz]

Enkriswen opened the door to the Green Dragon, slightly in awe of this little place. She looked around at the scene inside, not understanding anything. Quietly, she sat down in a booth in the back, removing the hood of her black cloak.

Enkriswen was one for annonimity, although her pointy ears covered by surprisingly black-colored hair, did not exactly go with her appearance. She watched people talk, quietly, but seeing no one she knew there, turned her more-orange-than-brown gaze back to the table.

On a random inspiration, she gets up, goes to the bar for some ale, then sits back down again. Maybe after she'd had a drink she'd feel more comfortable and conversation-friendly. Or not, but, you'd never know until you tried... she took a sip. Ah! it then occured to Enkriswen that she had not drunk anything other than water for a very long time...

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

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel collapsed at the bar after the sale ended, overwhelmed by the sheer number of hobbits who'd come. She rubbed her temples and noticed an elvenmaid with black hair and bright eyes glancing at her. Niniel twined her hair around her fingers self-conciously. Soronume was one thing, but a strange elf was quite another. For a moment, she considered speaking to the lady, but only for a moment.

Instead, she turned to Aman. "Are--are all the hob--hobbits so--loud?" she asked.

Aman chuckled and nodded, but before she could make more of an answer, a loud crash came from the direction of the fireplace. Aman went to investigate, leaving Niniel alone. Again.

For something to do, she rose and began to wander the Inn. She caught es of gossip, of stories, and of shared memories. Nowhere did she seem to belong, which wasn't unusual. For a time, she gazed at Soronume, but she moved on quickly, observing the other Inn patrons. It was a comfortable, familiar thing to do in an unfamiliar place.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[Theoric Windcaller]

Theoric turned into the bar. The fire roared in the back. He had left for Rivendell so suddenly and hadn't been back for a while. He missed the ale here.

He stumbled wearily towards the bar, his mouth watering as he smelt the soup they had on the fire in the back. He then stopped, remembering the Green Dragon's no-weapons policy. He unstrapped his axe and gently laid it, hilt up against the wall near the door.

As he came to the bar he called to Aman, the innkeeperhe ordered a small pint of ale. He pulled a chair out and porrped himself comfortably in it. His smile gleamed as he realized how happy this in was.

Wait! he thought, maybe that Elf is here. What was her name? Oh yes! Lèspheria.

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

[Rachel McSchnozz]

Enkriswen's gaze alighted and rested, momentarily, on Niniel. She took another sip of her ale. sip of ale? she thought, no one sips ale, they...swig it... It was then that Enkriswen truely realised how entirely out of sync she was with the world of toughened ale-drinkers.

Theoric? What? When did he come here? She had met him, briefly, in Rivendell. Not that she felt much like talking to him, polite though he had been... or had that been Theoric? Or maybe it was another one... Ah! Who knows, it had all been so long ago...

Okay, a swig of ale... right... she lifted the big cup to her lips and swigged. The liquid burned it's way halfway down her throat...then it reversed it's course and headed back up into the cup.
What a highly unpleasent experience. Now she needed a different type of alchohol, that was for sure.

She headed over to the barkeeper and asked for a wine. If they had any, which she really hoped they did...

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Rachel McSchnozz ]

[Eladain Moruviel]

Just then an elf,wearing travling clothes and a hooded cloak walked into the room.It was apparent he had been travling for some time,by the state of his tall mud soaked boots and cloak,that might have been green at one time,but was now more of a brownish color.

Upon intering the inn he removed his cloak revealing a long,wicked looking hunting knife strapped at his side.He also had a short ash bow and a quiver of arrows wich he also removed and placed carefully next to his cloak

He was tall,even for an elf,strongly muscled,but of light frame as most elves are.He had the blond hair and bluegray eyes characteristic of the wood elves.If anybody had takin the time to look closely at him they would have noticed he had a slight limp,and also the large scar on his left cheek.

He walked over to the corner out of the firelight and sat down at an empty table.He wasn't talkative,even around friends,and even less so in a strange place, so he prefered to sit alone.But it was still nice to be next to the warm fire,and around people,even though he wouldn't talk to them it was still nice not to be alone after four months of roaming the wilderness.

When the serving girl came over he ordered some ale and sat back to relax and watch the other patrons.'Perhaps if he kept his ears open he would hear some information that would help him with his quest' he thought to himself.'Oh yes,and once he found that for which he was searching,he could finally rest' he told himself.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Eladain Moruviel ]

[Rachel McSchnozz]

With the wine, Enkriswen wound her way back to her booth, finding one by it newly occupied. She didn't like the look of this lady-hobbit sitting there. Looking at a new-come, tall elf, she tripped over the nearby hobbit's chair.

"Hey, watch your step there!" the she-hobbit called.

"Sorry about that," Enkriswen apologised, noticing a few more stares attracted her way.
She picked herself and unspilled wine off the floor and headed back over to her now-unoccupied booth.

Momentarily, she contemplated swigging the wine. Nope, too risky... she grinned faintly.

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

[Belethfacwen]

Beleth turned from staring about the room to the person who had just sat himself at her table, which was previously occupied only by her. She saw him with a start, but within a split second regained her composure and smiled brightly.

"Hello! How are you? Me, traveled far? Well... my answer would have to be no.. I live within a few minute's walk, but I don't come here that often, you see. I'm not really sure why!" She laughed quietly.

"What about you?"

[Eladain Moruviel]

The elf looked up from his musing to see what had made all that noise,and what he saw was a girl sprawled out on the floor.He spotted the pointy ears and strong elven features right away 'she must be an elf' he thought 'no,something's different about her,perhaps a half elf? either way perhaps i should go talk to her' he told himself.

He wasn't very good at this kind of thing,and never had been,but he summoned up all his courage,put on his friendlyist smile (which wasn't very friendly) and walked up to where the girl had sat down."That was a nasty fall you took,are you alright?" he said when he reached the table."But where are my manners,I'm Eladain"

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Eladain Moruviel ]

[Dorelnar]

See your PM's - Private Messages, please.

SAVED for re-worked post.

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

[Dûrvagor Cormyr]

The door creaked as the Dúnedain, Dûrvagor Cormyr, walked into the Green Dragon. His sword clanked against the door frame which caught the innkeeper's attention.

“Hold it buddy, no weapons in here, and if you don't like it, than there's another pub in Bree,” the innkeeper instructed with a chuckle as she placed her mug on the shelf.

Removing his hood, he replies, “Alright, but I’ll warn you now that if they’re gone when I come to claim them…”

“It’s okay, this is the Shire you know.”

Dûrvagor continued on, stripped of all weapons, to any empty table previously occupied by an elf who’s weapons were placed next to his, only guessing by the Lothlorien markings on his bow. He glanced around the inn and realized there were more men and elves than hobbits.

After claiming his table, he headed up to the bar and ordered a pint of ale to sooth his weary body. Not being very social, he passes a group of other travelers in a very thick conversation, and continues to his table.

Drinking his pint, slowly calming down, he notices that a blonde elf is sitting in the table next to him. But, he decides not to talk to him, and continues to drink his ale.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Dûrvagor Cormyr ]

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Dûrvagor Cormyr ]

[Eladain Moruviel]

Apparently the Elf wasn't feeling very talkative at the moment and merely grunted a quick "hello" to Eladain when he introduced himself. So he headed back to his table only to find a Dunedain seated there.Upon closer inspection he realised this was his old friend Durvagor.

"AH! Durvagor!" Eladain cried "It's so good to see you old friend! It's been too long since our last meeting" The two friends warmly clasped hands and if you had been looking you would see them embrace like brothers.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Eladain Moruviel ]

[piosenniel]

Please note I have made some adjustments to posts on this page.

Please take time to review The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire. You will find all the rules for posting in the Shire there.

A very basic rule is:

Every post must be at least 2 paragraphs in length, minimum. AND, each paragraph must contain at least 2 SENTENCES.

You can have a FEW lines of 1 sentence dialog, but even then it is preferred that your talk be at least 2 sentences long, and that you place your dialog in the midst of some descriptive writing.

Please try to follow this guide line. I will be returning posts for people to edit who do not do this.

Remember – the Inn is for practicing descriptive writing, that is what we expect of people when they play in games here in the Shire and even more so in Rohan and Gondor. This is your chance to let us see what your character looks like, how he/she thinks, acts, reacts to what's around him, etc.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

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

[Ealasaid]

"Have an ale, my friend!"

Kaldir looked up to discover that he had been joined at his table by the Ranger who had carried the injured southern lady up the stairs some minutes earlier. He smiled benignly with the good half of his scarred face and gestured to an empty chair. "Only if you will have a seat, my friend," he answered.

Silvanis nodded his acceptance and sat down, placing himself deliberately between Kaldir and the closed upstairs door of Benia Nightshade. Kaldir noticed this, but failed to show any reaction other than to set aside his empty tankard and take the full one offered by his new companion. Taking a sip of ale, Kaldir studied Silvanis' face. There was something familiar about the man, as though Kaldir might have been acquainted with him at one time, many years ago. In another lifetime, perhaps, he thought to himself. He still remembered things and events from before but not clearly. It was as though he was seeing them through the halflight of dusk, rather than the full light of day. Faces, especially, were difficult for him to remember.

"I am called Kaldir," he said by way of introduction, his pale blue eyes watching Silvanis closely for even a flicker of recognition. "And I thank you sincerely for your hospitality," he added raising his mug. "The Green Dragon is renowned for the quality of its ale."

[Rachel McSchnozz]

"Oops," she thought to herself. Maybe it was time to turn from Enkriswen the Mean and Nasty towards Other Elves to Enkriswen the Friendly.

She had been about to get up to go and apologize to Eladain for her previous rudeness, but she saw he was otherwisely occupied for attention. Alright, she thought, getting up, just a quick hello...

As she walked to where he was sitting, the lady hobbit she had previously tripped over deliberatly stuck out her hairy foot to make Enkriswen fall. And fall she did, with a nasty, head banged, ungraceful, un-elvish, un-ladylike, and un-every other good thing she could have been. Enkriswen was rendered unconcious.

"Not so graceful for a lady elf, eh?" the rude hobbit lass sniggered to her friends. Unfortunately, there was no response.

[Eladain Moruviel]

As soon as Eladain saw Enkriswen fall he was up on his feet. 'oh no,not again' he thought to himself. "Durvagor,got get me some water!" he cried as he procided to try to revive the unconcious elf.

When Durvagor returned with the water Eladain used it to awaken Enkriswen. "This should bring her around" he said as he poured it onto her face,and then laughed as she came too spluttering and whiping water off of her clothes. "I'm sorry I had to do that" he said "But i had little other choice unless you wanted me to leave you unconcious.Are you hurt?"he asked,his voice growing concerned.

Eladain smiled for the first time in a long time and helped Enkriswen to her feet."Here,come join me at my table,my friend was just leaving and i'd be happy if you dined with me,that is,if you wouldn't mind" he said

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Eladain Moruviel ]

[piosenniel]

To refresh everyone's memory:

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.

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

At present it is a pleasant late afternoon in the Shire. The season is mid-Summer.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Now that the two friends were once again alone after the rush of the events of the morning, Gilly felt free to question Benia more closely.

“I see you were trying to sneak off without saying good-bye,” she said nodding toward Benia’s luggage with a grin. She lifted the leather bag and began to full the empty portion with the dry goods and sundries Benia had bought in the morning.

“You know I wouldn’t do that unless there was no other option available to me. But it seems you are pushing me out now, my friend, packing me up like this.”

“A place for everything and everything in its place.” Gilly held up an apple battered by the fall the desert woman had suffered. “No, I think we had better sort out your bruises first before you try dodging them rangers. You can’t be hopping over no hedgerows with that ankle!” She set the apple down again.

“But I must if there is no help for it,” Benia explained. “I have business to attend to beyond the Shire, and am expected there, else I should send a messenger.

“Do not dismiss the idea of a messenger yet. I feel you'd be a good deal safer in the inn than traveling alone, despite the rangers’ attention here. The one is most troubling though Silvanis seems decent enough.”

“Apparently Silvanis is trusted by the King,” Benia smiled, “so I expect he should meet a hobbit’s standards!”

Gilly picked up the tray of empty soup dishes, “I don’t know about that Miss Benia. He seems to have passed up Miss Vinca’s mushroom soup, but I should give him a second chance, eh? I’ll just take our empty dishes back now and see if I can deliver his. If he can stomach the cold soup I will know his manners are not just polish on a bad apple.... No am not that cruel,” she said laughing and backing out the door. “Even I can’t stomach cold mushroom soup!”

The hobbit turned around to see Silvanis seated at a table with the scarred ranger. Feeling suddenly very weak she wanted to retreat again to Benia’s rooms. This was too much. But remembering Léspheria’s counsel she made her way down the stairs, inwardly trying to steel herself against a feeling of hopelessness. Act normal even when you don’t feel so, she thought.

The stairs ended, and within a few paces she was the dread table. Summoning up the best good-natured voice she could manage she placed the soup before Silvanis quickly lest they she her trembling hand. “Here Mr. Silvanis. You forgot your soup, I’m afraid it has gone cold.” Gilly couldn’t bring herself to look at him but stared rather at the scarred yet handsome features of his companion at the table. I’m headed for the kitchen is there anything I can get for you?”

The unruffed stranger leveled his gaze at her and grinned with one side of his face.
"No, not at the moment, thank you."

Gilly sensing she was unwelcome picked up the empty tankard and hurried to the kitchen. Ach! Where is Myrtle when you need her! she thought. It need to know what those rascals are discussing.

[ June 25, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[Dûrvagor Cormyr]

As Durvagor watched Eladain revive Enkriswen, he noticed a spark when they’re eyes met but saw them quickly shake their heads, looking around to see if anyone saw. “I saw that,” Dûrvagor whispered to Eladain.

“It was nothing,” Eladain quickly replied. “Besides, even if I did, which I don’t…*stalling*…just trust me, it was nothing.”

“Sure,” Dûrvagor responded, knowing he had just witnessed a taste of Eladain’s emotional side. “Well, I’m going to get another pint,” he said. The ranger headed back up the bar to leave Eladain and Enkriswen to themselves.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Dûrvagor Cormyr ]

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* smilies/smile.gif ATTENTION ALL GAMERS! smilies/smile.gif *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There are two new RPG’s which will be opening their Discussion Threads at the end of this week to take on players:

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

1.) GONDORIAN HOUSECALL – owner, Helkahothion.

2.) THE FALL OF GREENWOOD THE GREAT – owners, Maikafanawen and Arien.

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

These will both be fun games to play in.

Go look at the Discussion Threads. Decide which one you would like to be in; then, craft a well written character for the Game, and write a solid First Post to submit with it to the Game Discussion Thread.

~*~ Pio

[Elora]

Lost in her musings, Vanwe did not at first hear Aman's question. Her words penetrated through her thoughts, and Vanwe swung her head up in time to see Aman's concerned face turned towards her. A startling thought darted through Vanwe's mind. Sometimes, when she had been younger, she would ask questions of the reflection and in her mind pretend she heard the answers. Had Aman heard her speaking to her water?

Vanwe combed Aman's face for some clue, and was relieved to see no hint of something deeper. In her eyes moved a powerful sadness that could not fade instantly, and Vanwe blinked to be sure tears did not threaten.

"Yes, Aman," she replied in a heavily laden voice. She was, afterall, no worse than she had been the day before, and considerably better than she had been a week or a month ago, or a year for that matter. Yet, it lacked the weight to convince the innkeeper.

"I am sorry to have troubled you, Aman."

Vanwe drained her earthern cup and set it back on the bar counter. She slowly stood, smoothing her skirts over her hips as she did so.

"I should see to the horses before nightfall, lest Derufin think me negligent."

With a quick curtsy that she bobbed at Aman with her ingrained elven grace, Vanwe eased away before Aman could question her more closely. In her present state, Vanwe just may answer and she knew from past experience what her answers brought. The common room held the glow of late afternoon, warm and welcoming. She glanced out over it, gaze settling on Silvanis who sat with Kaldir, and there rested for a moment.

Both men nursed foaming tankards of ale, but she was not close enough to hear what they spoke of. The possibilities were frightening enough to push any wistful imaginings far from her mind.

"Aman," Vanwe said as the innkeeper had turned away, "If Silvanis seeks me, could you tell him that I'm in the stables."

Aman looked at the Elven maiden quizzically. Her instincts were such that she well knew when something was afoot, a necessary skill for a horse trainer of Rohan.

"I have some business that I have not been able to settle with him," Vanwe went on to explain.

"Business," Aman echoed as she assessed Vanwe, "If he asks, I'll let him know. Are you in trouble, Vanwe?"

Aman asked plainly and pointedly. Vanwe's facade for an instant melted, revealing a glimpse of her turmoil in her Elven feature so reminiscent of the High Elven house of Finafin. But it was just an instant that passed as Vanwe pushed silken blonde hair back over her shoulders.

"No more than most of us, Aman," she said, "and it is nothing that will bring unrest to you or the inn."

Vanwe smiled, a flash of steely determination laying beneath that. Regardless of what may lay ahead, Vanwe would see to it that no harm came to those who had been so kind to her. Vanwe bobbed another curtsy and left the commonroom in as nondescript manner as she could. It was hard to hide from a Ranger in a commonroom that was uncrowded in a way that did not further draw attention to herself.

Vanwe met the gaze of those newcomers, the inn's vast usual array of people, and seeing no Rangers or soldiers at least, moved on to the stables. As she crossed the yard, her head spun with the day's doings. Evening was speeding towards her, and she had to smooth things over with Lespheria and check on Benia too, to be sure the healing had taken as it should. As she entered the stable, her expression was preoccupied and pensive.

Vanwe moved through the empty stalls to fetch the necessary equipment to stable the horses from the pen and clean out the pen. The rhythmic sound of a knife moving through wood whispered to her hearing, and Vanwe paused. It was familiar as was the scent of freshly cut wood. Her hands moved to the crane that had patiently waited behind her worn and cracked belt.

Her keen eyesight picked out Derufin, who sat carving in solitude. She approached quietly, and watched the blade hover and grip adjust to one not used for carving wood as he glanced up. Derufin relaxed when he saw it was Vanwe.

"Good evening," he said, blowing some shavings away from what he was working on.

"Good evening, Derufin," Vanwe replied. "How are you feeling," she inquired."

Derufin wryly smiled. "Much better," he said as he set his blade to the carving once again.

"I thought I'd bring the horses in for the night, Derufin, if that is agreeable to you."

He nodded his assent, and Vanwe moved closer to the halters needed to lead the horses back in to the stables. With them dangling over her arms, Vanwe made to leave the stable only to pause by Derufin once again. In her free hand rested the crane, wings proudly stretched outwards in glorious flight like the cranes she had seen winging over the wetlands of Gondor.

Hoping that she had not misjudged his homeland from his appearance, Vanwe stretched out her hand. Derufin glanced up to see the crane flying towards him from her palm.

"I thought," Vanwe said shyly in a quiet voice, "that I may be able to give you something by way of thanks."

"But for what, Vanwe," Derufin asked as he studied the rosewood crane.
"For your kindness and generosity," she replied.

Derufin lightly shook his head as he reached to pick up the crane from her open palm, eyes moving to study her face. Vanwe smiled shyly at him.

"I know it is a small thing, and by no means the work of a master, but it is a begininning," she said.
"I will find other ways to thank you Derufin, and prove you right in your trust."

For Vanwe, that anyone had seen fit to entrust her with what Derufin had was a new experience. It was something that she had never been accorded before. She was not sure she merited it, but she was determined to do what she could to ensure he did not regret it. Small carvings did not amount to much, but it was a start.

Falmar snorted by way of impressing his contribution to the exchange as Derufin's fingers traced over the lines of the crane. Feathers had been etched, ruffled by the cool sky at sunset.

"I hope it is to your liking."

Vanwe's cheeks flushed faintly, a delicate rose colouring her skin, and the bridles jingled softly as she adjusted their weight on her other arm. She was utterly out of her depth, unsure of what to do. She had never given a gift before, and a worrying thought nagged at her mind that perhaps she had overstepped her place in doing so now.

As Derufin turned the crane about in his hands to study it, Vanwe supressed the urge to find a quiet place quickly and stood where she was. If she had done wrong, she was not going to run. She had already decided earlier that day that she was tired of running. Her blue eyes were lit with a genuine desire that the crane please Derufin, for it was rare that she did anything to anyone's liking in her experience.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Alatariel walked away and back into the Inn. She went back to her corner table and sat in the same seat. She watched the other guests again, waiting... waiting for something to happen.

Alatariel sat there for hours, but nothing happened. She had a dry, rough sensation in her throat. Deciding to get a glass of wine, she walked up to the bar. 'One glass of wine, please'

The person at the bar walked away, to arrive shortly after, with a glass of red wine. Alatariel paid and thanked the person, then went back to her table, in the dark corner. She sat and waited some more, without a care in the world.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel wandered outside. There were so many strangers around, and she felt quite overwhelmed. There was a lovely breeze blowing, and she breathed deeply of the scents it carried; flowers, herbs, and the smell of freshly cut pine.

She pulled out a small silver-gilt knife, and began walking it over and around her fingers. To keep the hands nimble, she remembered someone telling her. Though she could not recall who, which wasn't really so strange, as she couldn't recall much of anything.

She sat down on a piece of log that was propped up near one of the doors. It made for a less than comfortable seat, but it would do for her. Comfort had rarely, if ever, been part of her daily life.

[Nerindel]

Léspheria wiped the sweat from her delicate pale brow, it had been a busy afternoon. Many new guests entered the inn. Keeping her busy, she was relieved when she saw Silvanis joining the other Ranger and block his view of Benia's room.

She smiled when she saw Theoric enter the inn "Ah master dwarf, good to see you again" she said refilling his mug, but before he could speak she was called away by a group of rowdy hobbits. "More ale here, Miz Elf", "Léspheria, Master Periannath" she smiled mischievously as she poured the hobbits their ale, the others laughed as the hobbit who had called her now sat with his mouth open wide fumbling for an answer, instead he just paid for the ales and staring awkwardly into his mug he whispered "thankee Miz Léspheria" to which the other hobbits started laughing again. Giggling despite herself she turn to see who else might need serving.

As she looked around she saw two elves sat at a table not to far away, one of which she was sure she recognised from her home in Rivendell. "Miss Enkriswen! Is that you?" The young elf looked up surprised that someone in the inn was calling her name. "Vedui Léspheria" she cried instantly recognising the Emissary of Rivendell. Enkriswen never much cared for the council and they found her rather clumsy and tiresome but Léspheria and her twin Brother Lóthaniel had always been nice to her(And they were only one age in this world so were not classed among the high elves). The two women hugged, "Nae saian luamme'(It has been too long) she whispered. Léspheria then turned and smiling warmly she looked to Enkriswen's companion, he immediately stood up and greeted her in the fashion of the elves of Mirkwood "My name is Eladain, Saesa omentimlle (Pleasure meeting you)" the male elf smiled pleasantly. "Mae govannen (Well Met)" she replied making the same elvish gesture of greeting. Léspheria was filled with warmth to hear the language of her own people, it must be nearly a month since she left Rivendell. "Let me get you a fresh drink, then we shall speak from a while." she then went off to the bar to get their drinks.

As she reached the bar she saw another ranger waiting for a drink, "What can I get you she asked "Three ale's please" a wry smile creasing his lips, she could not be certain but she was fairly sure he had the look of the Dunedain about him. She and her Bother spent much time with the Dunedain in the north, both before and after the war. She poured the mans ale's and slid them easily across the bar.

Just then she noticed Aman standing at the door to the cellar staring blankly at the back of the quickly exiting Vanwe. "She avoided your concerns as well I see, Many questions distract that one, but I think once she sorts them out herself she will come to us and there is no better place than The warm and inviting lights of the green dragon to stop one from running, she smiled trying to reassure the worried innkeeper.

Without further disturbing the innkeepers thoughts she poured two wines and an ale and went back over to join Enkriswen and Eladian.

[ June 24, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Dûrvagor Cormyr]

As Dûrvagor walked back into the inn, along with Eladain, he sat down at the closest open table towards the fire. While he looked at the catechism of flame and wood, he thought to himself. He thought of nothing of importance, just something to pass time in this fine inn. While straying away from his thoughts, he saw a moth. It wasn’t a moth of majesty or a moth of beauty, just a plain, old moth. It was heading into the fire; not knowing the flames would engulf him. But, it still was on its journey towards death, slowly fluttering. Snap! The moth was no more, just another addition to the collecting ashes.

While looking at the flames, the fireplace, the mantle, he remembered his fireplace that he would sit in front of when he was a child.

It was in the late Third Age, living in his small house outside of Osgiliath, with his parents sitting in their designated chairs. His father was a retired ranger, mother was tailor, and he was just a young boy, pretending to be fighting orcs, slaying giant oliphaunts, and reenacting the defeat against Sauron himself! Of course these all being trees and twigs he had stuck into the ground in order for them to stand-up. Then Dûrvagor would slash at them with his wooden sword—

“Dûrvagor,” yelled Eladain, thinking he was in a trance and trying to get him out of it.

“Yes,” Dûrvagor responded in a normal fashion.

“Okay, I was just making sure you were okay,” Eladain explained.

“Don’t worry, I’m alright,” he concluded, smiling at his fond memories of his childhood. But little did he know then, that those 'games', would soon become real.

[ June 24, 2003: Message edited by: Dûrvagor Cormyr ]

[piosenniel]

NOTE TO ALL POSTERS IN THE GREEN DRAGON INN

1.) There are to be no further short, nondescriptive, talk-oriented posts posted here.

2.) There is to be no series posting done in the Inn. (No rapid fire exchange of short little chatty, non descriptive, hastily written posts.)

This is a place for practicing good, solid descriptive writing. Go to the Barrow Downs Chat room if you wish to chat with friends.

All posts of the sort mentioned in #'s 1 and 2 above will be deleted. You will run the risk of being asked not to post in the Shire again.

~~ Piosenniel Shire Moderator

[ June 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Everdawn]

"An ale?, not that will never do! Ladies-" she began to remember the rules that her governess and father had enforced in her house in Dol Amroth. "Ale will be fine!" she laughed.

"I am breaking a rule, and i intend on still breaking many more!" Madea laughed while Ruby came to their table. "I only feel like bread... and honey? would that be a problem?" she asked the hobbit who smiled "right back" she said.

"Aleia, thankyou so much for recomending. We must do many things ive never done before you know!" Made laughed again, feeling better than she had in months, years even.

[Eladain Moruviel]

While Durvagor was daydreaming by the fireside,Eladain had some thoughts of his own.He and Durgavor had decided outside that they would go on there Quest for the lost dwarven rings of power,in the fall.Each would go his own separate way and meet back up at the Inn before setting out together.it wouldn't be an easy task,it would be full of hardship and danger,but they both had agreed to do it,and so it would be done,or they would die trying.

After a little while Eladain's thoughts began to wander,he thought of his childhood in Mirkwood,how he used to play in the woods with his brothers and sisters.They had made something of them selves,all become blacksmiths, or seamstresses,or tavern-keepers.But him,he was different,he was a wanderer,never able to stay in one place for too long.How many had it been since he had seen his family?he had lost count a long time ago.

His thoughts then strayed to all the things he had seen in his many years of wandering,the Mines of Moria,the Argonath,The Lonely Mountain,and even the great city of Minas Tirith.'Yes,he may not have made much of himself,but he had lived a better life than the rest of his family' he told himself.

he then remembered the day he had met Durvagor,it had been out in the wilds,and he had come upon Durvagor's camp by accident.They had become fast friends after that,and one day they decided they should do something important with there lives.That's when the idea to look for the lost dwarven rings occurred to them.That day they made an oath that no mater what happened,they would never stop looking for the rings.it had been ten years since that day,and now they were close,very close,so they decided to meet up at the Inn so they search together.


After making Durvagor was ok (he had been looking kind of odd) Eladain headed for his room upstairs "it's been a long day,and i could use some sleep" he said to Durvagor as he went "I'll see you in the fall old friend" as he headed upstairs he wondered what many adventures would befall of them before they next saw eachother.

One man, sat in the corner and watched as Eladain slowly walked up the stairs.As soon as he was out of sight the strange man got up hand headed out the door into the night.Durvagor saw him leave but was too tired to think anything of it,soon after he too went upstairs to his room for the night.

[Rachel McSchnozz]

Enkriswen tiredly excused herself from the table, thankful that the hobbit lass had gone. Slowly, she wound her way around the tables and opened the door to go outside. The door, momentarily, wouldn't open.

It wasn't this warm when last I came, she said to herself, pulling her cloak closer around her out of instict. She shuddered as an unexpected big gust of wind billowed forth, and passed her by. She smiled, and loosened her tight grip on her coat.

She re-opened the door and headed back inside, now that the air outside had stimulated her brain. She sat back down in her booth, looking for the serving lady. She was aiding someone else, so Enkriswen went back up to the counter, ordered a small plate of food (for she had suddenly become ravenous again, being outside does that) and went, yet once again, back to her booth, and waited.

[Arayulmaiel]

Arayulmaiel entered the Green Dragon. Long had it been since last she was here. Not that she hadn't missed it, it was like a second home to her, an extremely warm, comfortable home to her.

As she entered, she noticed the door was having trouble opening. Just one sharp pull and... she slipped backwards, tripped on the edge of her cloak, and fell to the ground. Quickly, she picked herself back up, hoping mightily that she hadn't been seen. Good, she thought, looking around, she hadn't.

She stepped into the bar part of the Inn, and quickly went over to the Innkeeper. "Any kind of food you have ready will do just fine," she ordered. Then she sat herself down in a vacant booth.

[Snowdog]

'Yes, the ale is of fair quality here.'

Silvanis answered Kaldir as he looked into his tankard for a moment. He had had some rather wicked ales in his travels, and the light sweet draught of the Green Dragon was refreshing on these warm midsummer days. He looked again at Kaldir, saying,

'I am Silvanis of most recently Annúminas, and it is good to make your aquaintance.'

Not that Silvanis was much for socializing, but it seemed necessary to do in this case. Kaldir noted the door opening and the Hobbit woman emerged with some bowls. Silvanis could read it in his eyes as he looked past him, and said quietly,

'The southern women curry your interest, no?'

Kaldir stiffened slightly, then said,

"What is the woman who was hurting to you?"

Silvanis's mind moved quickly, for he could say she was only one whom he assisted after her fall, but it seemed there was a danger to her in doing so, so he said,

'She was to embark upon travel as was I, and we were going to journey together for a time'

Not really true Silvanis thought, but he was planning on going east and south, and it was obvious Benia was about to move on as well, though he knew not where.

It was then that Gilly walked up and said,

"Your soup, mr Silvanis, I'm afraid it has gotten cold."

Standing, Silvanis nodded to Gilly,

'My apologies ma'am. I assumed the second bowl was for you while you shared a meal with B... your friend.'

Silvanis sat back down and wondered how it would settle wit the ale. He was hungry as he was hoping to be on his way hours ago, so he said thanks to Gilly for bringing it to him. He downed it quickly and not always remembering his cultural manners, having been in the wild so long and all.

As he finished, Silvanis turned his head as a dark-haired young woman laughed amidst her sipping a tankard of ale. He looked back at Kaldir and said quietly with a grin,

'This will be interesting to watch.'

with a motion of his head toward Madea at the nearby table. Seeing that Kaldir was ever trying to watch the door where Benia rested, Silvanis took a long draw upon his tankard and said in a low voice only Kaldir could hear,

'Raven Falls'

A faint recognition seemed to come over Kaldir's face and Silvanis seemed to remember that dark time. Leaning forward Silvanis said,

'The Mitheithel headwaters was a dark day...'

The names seemed to bring some memory to Kaldir, for it was indeed a dark day years ago, when their party was waylaid by orcs....

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman frowned after Vanwe. The elf was hiding something, of that she was almost certain, but she could think of no way of getting out of her what it was. She had tried to be frank, and that had certainly worked in its way- that slip, that small moment when Vanwe had let her mask fall, startled, had proved Aman's fears that Vanwe was indeed involved in something.

"Business, hmm?" She muttered under her breath, narrowing her eyes and watching Silvanis suspiciously. Her attention was jolted however, by a small, polite sound of someone clearing their throat. Aman snapped back from her musings, and smiled at the young woman, straightening up from where she had been leaning on the bar.

"I beg your pardon, I was miles away," Aman smiled. "Can I get you anything?"

"Any type of food you have." The young woman replied, smiling nervously.

"Well, Cook will be serving up dinner in a short while- she generally serves it in about an hour and a half, or two hours, from now. I can get you something small though- sandwiches?"

"Yes, please." The woman replied

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman frowned after Vanwe. The elf was hiding something, of that she was almost certain, but she could think of no way of getting out of her what it was. She had tried to be frank, and that had certainly worked in its way- that slip, that small moment when Vanwe had let her mask fall, startled, had proved Aman's fears that Vanwe was indeed involved in something.

"Business, hmm?" She muttered under her breath, narrowing her eyes and watching Silvanis suspiciously. Her attention was jolted however, by a small, polite sound of someone clearing their throat. Aman snapped back from her musings, and smiled at the young woman, straightening up from where she had been leaning on the bar.

"I beg your pardon, I was miles away," Aman smiled. "Can I get you anything?"

"Any type of food you have." The young woman replied, smiling nervously.

"Well, Cook will be serving up dinner in a short while- she generally serves it in about an hour and a half, or two hours, from now. I can get you something small though- sandwiches?"

"Yes, please." The woman replied. She held out a hand, still polite, but also still nervous. "My name is Arayulmaiel."

"Pleased to meet you. Buttercup will see to your order immediately," Aman smiled sweetly at the hobbit waitress, who had been trying to sneak past without being noticed. At the sound of her name, she froze, and as Aman finished, she shot her a rather exasperated look, switching quickly to a smile as Arayulmaiel turned, then went to sit in a booth. As Buttercup went to the kitchen, she glanced darkly at Aman again. The Innkeeper stuck her tongue out, still grinning, and Buttercup rolled her eyes, but returned the grin. Aman watched the hobbit as she went- she had become good friends with Buttercup recently, and the hobbit had returned the feeling- wasn't it her who had faithfully saved Aman from 'The Mob' of Mathom hunters?

"Could we get another two ales please, Aman?"

Aman didn't let her smile fade as Silvanis asked, but her suspicion returned as she remembered him. Smiling, she nodded, and pulled two pints, which he came to retrieve. With a charming smile, he returned to his table, and Aman saw him lean forward and begin his story. Her eyes narrowed again, but she said nothing. Rememberin the wines she had meant to check up on, she hastily fumbled with her keys until she found the right one, and slipped it into the lock of the cellar door.

Sighing happily, the Innkeeper made her way down the stone stairs and into the cellar, quiet and cool away from the busy, hot bustle of the Inn. She took a moment to just stand at the bottom of the stairs, eyes closed, revelling the cool air, slightly fragrant with the perfume of the wines that had long rested in it. Hearing a slight rustle, she opened her eyes sharply to see...

no one!

But she had sworn she had heard the rustle of clothing and a few steps. Maybe it had been the dripping of a wine tap...yes, that must be it...

But Aman knew it hadn't been. The cellar suddenly seemed eerie rather than simply quiet, and the Innkeeper forced herself into her business mode, and walked swiftly down the rows of barrels, reading the labels, some wooden, some metal (for the older or more regular beverages), some simply quickly scrawled notes on slips of paper, some more neatly written, in a hand she recognised as Pio's, but all covered in dust, even the wine that Lespheria had brought not so long ago. Aman inspected the fine wines. It did not take long. She had thought she might need a pen and paper, but the amount and variety of wine was rather devastatingly low. Well, she would be able to send someone off to Butterbur tonight, hadn't she heard some of them talking? That way she would get the reply tomo-

Aman whirled around, hands gripping the heavy bunch of keys as a weapon so that some of the jagged pieces of metal dug into her slim fingers and her palm. She could have sworn she had heard a snigger! She must be going mad...the cellar seemed too big and empty suddenly, and she knew it was virtually sound proof...no one would hear...

Aman started walking briskly towards the stairs. Once again, she thought she heard footsteps, and the brisk walk became faster. She took the stairs two at a time in the end, rushing up. When she reached the top, Aman had been about to close the door behind her quickly, but stopped. She peered into the relative gloom of the cellar. Nothing stirred. Aman could not believe she had been so daft- she had actually imagined things! There was nothing there, it had been silly of her.

Smiling to herself and shaking her head, Aman took out a pen from one of the voluminous pockets in her dress and a piece of parchment from the small pile she kept under her personal noticeboard, and began to write Butterbur a note about the wines, bearing in mind the funds from the sale. She had seen some sort of juice extractor down in the cellar, even in her panic, a big one, attached to a barrel. And it had had all sorts of interesting instruments around it...The children would need drinks as well, at the party, and just milk would simply not suffice. Hobbit lasses and lads would be delighted with some ginger beer- she had seen some earlier- and....strawberry fizz? She had seen some made by one of the stable boys when he visited Rohan, and had no doubt Cook would think something of the idea, as well as probably being able to draft in some help from Ruby's mother- that woman was a devil for recipes. And Aman could experiment, along with all that...

As the Innkeeper occupied herself with these thoughts, the door of the cellar swung slowly wider open. And there were indeed some little ones in the Inn- and even some rather bigger ones- who were eyeing it mischievously. While the cat's away/ busy writing notes, the mice can slip into the cellar...

Down in the quiet of the cellar, someone did indeed move...

[Theoric Windcaller]

It seemed as though something troubled the Dwarf about the Elf man that had just entered the inn. He felt at home here, but this moment, he felt a chill of fear run down his back.

He weighed the thought of going back to Rohan, or maybe even Laketown. It was mid-summer, he could reach his destination by the end of summer. He thought of leaving the Shire for good.

Fertile and green this land was, but that's all, nothing more. The Dwarf wanted adventure, and this is not the place where he could find anything of that sort.

Theoric sighed and dropped his head upon the bar. A tear rolled down his cheek as flashes of that dreadful night in the Misty Mountains five years ago. His brother, Tallon and their life-long friend, Bayin and a group of adventurers travelled through the High Pass when a storm broke and split the group up. Theoric hadn't seen his brother and his friend, Bayin for five years until they came to the inn where he was, and greeted him.

How he wished to see them again. He felt a deep yearning in his heart to go adventuring with his brother. Yes, to Rohan, he thought, Rohan is where I must go.

Should I leave now or in the morning? If I stroll out in the morning then everything shall be in the norm. These Shire folk notice things very keenly. I musn't be too hasty...

[Yepa Namid]

Yepa Namid stepped quietly through the door, trying not to draw too much attention to herself. This land was new and strange to her. Also hot.


She slipped off her fur-lined cloak, which had become increasingly too warm as she had journeyed south. Indeed, even the clothes she wore underneath the cloak were still too warm. Her trousers, tunic, and even her boots were of sealskin, though the boots were from an older seal, and were tougher; darker grey that the softer, younger skins that made up her clothes. In contrast the heavy cloak which she now draped over her arm was the creamy white hide of the bears that populated the region from which she came.


She cut a strange figure as she crossed the inn to the bar. Her odd attire drew a few looks, but although she was small, her appearance was pleasant. Thick dark hair fell to mid-thigh length, and big dark eyes sparkled in a round, nut brown face. A grey and white dog, bearing much resemblance to a wolf, followed at her heels.

Getting a drink of water from the bar, Yepa sat down as far from the fire as possible, and sipped at her drink, gazing around all the time at the people in the common room, studying them with a curious mind. A few of them caught her eye, and she smiled, but made no move for the present. The dog curled up at her feet, closed his eyes, anddozed in the warmth of the afternoon.

[Annalaliath]

Rising out of her depression a bit, Annalaliath stood up from her table. She walked over to the bar and stood there for a moment.

When she had tracked down Aman, she smiled. " Aman, is there and work I can do," she asked, " around here?"

[Ealasaid]

"What is the woman who was hurting to you?" Kaldir asked.

There was scarcely a second of hesitation as Silvanis came to a rapid decision and answered, "She was to embark upon travel as was I, and we were going to journey together for a time."

Kaldir sensed the beat of hesitation. A lie, perhaps? He let it pass. "She is a lovely creature," he said pleasantly. "Very exotic for these parts. I was worried that I might be treading on your toes a bit in admiring her. I am glad to know that you and she are merely friends."

Kaldir was curious to see what Silvanis' reaction would be to his broad assumption that the desert woman and Silvanis were merely friends. It would tell Kaldir if the lie was intended to protect Benia or was merely a lie of discretion to safeguard a new liasson that was developing between the two of them. Unfortunately, he never received a response from Silvanis as the Ranger's attention was distracted first by the arrival of the desert woman's hobbit friend bringing a bowl of soup, and then by the laughter of a young woman at the next table. Kaldir felt a flash of frustration and annoyance, which he got out of his system by way of a rather menacing smile at the desert lady's hobbit friend, who looked distinctly disturbed by it. She fled to the safety of the kitchen rather quickly, which amused Kaldir no end.

His amusement evaporated abruptly as Silvanis finished taking a long draw at his tankard and said in a very low voice, "Raven Falls."

Kaldir's pale eyes narrowed and his face darkened. Leaning forward, Silvanis continued, "The Mitheithel headwaters was a dark day..."

"What do you know of the Mitheithel headwaters?" Kaldir asked, his own voice dropping to a barely audible level. He studied Silvanis' face, trying hard to place it. Had this man been among his party that day fifteen years ago when they had been ambushed by orcs in the very shadow of the Falls? They had been so desperately outnumbered that day. They had all fought valiantly, and Kaldir had nearly lost his life, but his memories were so vague. During the melee, he had been struck a crushing blow from behind to the side of his head. When he awoke, it was to the burning sensation of orc medicine on his throat, strengthening his battered body only enough to survive the forced march south to Mordor. The scarred side of his face twitched in remembered pain. Raven Falls was not a place he thought of lightly. Raven Falls marked the place where he had been changed from a Ranger to a nameless spoil of war and a slave.

[Envinyatar]

The soft light of an early evening filtered in through the open windows of the stable. Elf as she was, still her footsteps had stirred up the dust and chaff as she drew near, and now the fey bits danced in the light and the faint wind of her coming.

‘She looks so very young,’ he thought, as she stepped close, extending her trembling hand toward him. And in a trick of light and shadow the finely carved feathers of the crane seemed to ruffle in the air, as if to fly free of the flesh it rested on. Grace was in its form and a certain capturing of spirit; and he wondered, as he looked into her face, if she understood that these qualities had come to it through her hands, her own spirit giving voice to the wood.

A few words passed between them as he studied the carving. And then a sudden memory assailed him. They had come back to the Vale. The ragtag few who had survived the war. Memories of lost companions followed in their wake. The forever silenced footsteps of the sons of Ringló ringing hollowly across the marshy grasslands.

It was late summer and a pair of mated cranes had built their great nest near the marshy edges of the river. The small band of men came near, passing by slowly on their way to their own homes. Protective of their young, the pair had risen up and called out a warning in unison. ‘Stay clear!’ came their cry. And they stood tall among the grasses and the reeds, beating their great wings in the air as emphasis. The westering sun had shone through their feathers in a fiery blaze. The men had stood in awe of this spectacle, and bowing slightly to the pair had given wide berth to their little family.

‘We should have stayed near our families, too,’ he murmured. Then, catching himself, caught also the last of her words.

‘I know it is a small thing, and by no means the work of a master, but it is a beginning,’ she said. ‘I will find other ways to thank you Derufin, and prove you right in your trust.’ His fingertips moved softly over the fine work of the feathered wings. ‘I hope it is to your liking.’

He smiled up at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight. ‘Yes,’ he said, his hand coming up to adjust a stray bridle that threatened to fall from her arm. For a brief moment his fingers grazed the inner surface of her wrist. He dropped his eyes, withdrawing his hand to turn the carving once more upon the palm of his other hand.

‘Yes, Vanwe. I like it very much.’

She had gone then, to see to the horses, the jingling of the bridles trailing her footsteps.

Derufin placed the small crane on the barrel head, among his own creations. They seemed crude and ungainly as they stood next to hers. He smiled ruefully at them. And yet hers did not overshadow them, he thought, but lent them a certain grace and light, calling them out of their lumpish existence and into the promise of a gentler world.

An old scrap of poetry, wrought by some passing bard came back to him:

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

The shadows in the stable lengthened as he sat there, his hands resting on his thighs. Standing, then, he gathered up his carvings, placing them carefully in the box he had made for them. ‘Tomorrow,’ he thought, making his way back to his room, ‘tomorrow, when the light is good, I will work on these again.’ He slid the box beneath his bed, along with the knife he was using.

His little crane he placed carefully on the stand beside his bed, where the soft light from the candle lantern there would catch it, should he wake, as he often did, in the night . . .

_____________________________________________

with thanks to Wendell Berry for the poem

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Alatariel had fallen into a dream. She sat there, at the corner table, with a scared expression on her face. She was suddenly jerked out of it, by a shake of her head. A small ball of sweat ran down her forehead; however, she felt cold, and pulled her cloak in tighter. A shiver ran down her spine. It was the stallion! He was in trouble! She felt it.

Running outside, she started singing. It was an expressionless song, no mood, not happy, not sad, just a song. In the distance, there was a sound, it was the stallion. Alatariel continued her song. The wind was blowing around her, whipping at her cloak. The black stallion suddenly appeared around the corner. He was covered with scratches. 'Your worse than I expected, come we must get you cleaned up,' she said leading him inside the stables.

Putting him in the stall in the far corner, she left to fetch some warm water and a clean cloth. She bursted out of the stable, the wind continued to blow, and ran as fast as she could inside.

[Elora]

Vanwe walked towards the pen of horses in a pleasant daze, Derufin's smile bright before her and the gentle brush of his fingers on her inner wrist warm still. His smile, she decided, was wonderful. Not calculating, nor savage as they sometimes can be, like she saw all too often, but genuine and welcome. He was not harsh and ungentle, not a scowl or a hard word. Not even when she had been discovered hiding in his stables. Derufin was a puzzle to her, defying what knowledge she had built up on the nature of Men. Vanwe had her share of puzzles, but this one was one she was pleased to have.

Gentle touch, she thought, graceful soul. Though she had little by way of experience of the truth of that in her own experiences, she thought it true with a clarity that overrode her own past. She took to humming, the same lilting southern melody that had accompanied her broom that morning, as she neared the gate.

Curious by the softly singing newcomer, the horses crowded forward and Vanwe set about guiding the halters into place with a firm, confident hand that had always been hers when working with animals. She had the first shift of horses almost back to the stables, two leads in each hand and four horses trailing amicably behind her, when a woman burst at a run from the stables. Vanwe felt the reins jolt in her hands as the horses behind her lifted their heads back in surprise.

The running woman was gone before Vanwe could say anything, and the jerking leads needed her attention. It took some moments to quiet the startled horses and led them into the stables proper. Ignoring the faint ache in her shoulders that resulted from the reins being yanked backwards by four suprised horses, she lead each one into their respective stables and unhitched them. Her charges soon forgot their alarm, burying themselves in the fodder that had been set there that morning in readiness for the evening.

Vanwe saw a new horse had been placed in the far stall, Derufin standing nearby with a puzzled expression.

"Do you know who she is," he asked. Vanwe shook her head.
"No, and I had no chance to remedy that," she added.

"I wonder if she's in trouble," he murmured and then considering that she'd tarried to stall her horse started to reassess that.

"Well, not even a Haradian slaver could catch that sprint," Vanwe surmised. She'd seen them run more than one reluctant piece of property and doubted that even they would be able to do so for the woman who had burst from the stables.

"Perhaps she heard of Cook's instance on regular meals and did not wish to be late for dinner," Vanwe offered with a trace of a smile that was distinctly mischevious. She turned to see to the remaining horses so that she too would be able to avoid Cook's disapproval for the upcoming meal. The dusk had deepened to a pale shimmer by the time all the horses had been stabled, and their blankets placed in preparation for the night.

Vanwe surveyed each row of stalls on both sides of the stables, to be sure door catches were in place, dusting her hands on her skirt. She glanced down at the gritty material and wrinkled her nose. Noone would credit that she'd washed it only the day before. She climbed the ladder leading to the loft and went to the one draw that held all her possessions.

Vanwe divided her efforts between shaking the attic dust and the day's work from her dress and combing her hair free of any snarls. She braved a quick glance in the small mirror, fortified for what she would see. Thin, pale, tall, unlike the sun burnished people who had surrounded her from birth. Vanwe set the mirror down, and closed off the comments she could still hear in her mind. Conscious that Cook already had cause to be unhappy with her for the incident surrounding the very late lunch, she hurried back down the ladder on nimble feet.

Derufin looked up from where he sat at her speedy return, pulled from reverie.

"I don't want to be late either. Cook is already displeased with me," she explained. The distant expression on his face faded, and Vanwe recognised it quickly from the day before. As he nodded his understanding, well familiar with Vinca Bouce's formidible wrath himself, Vanwe wondered if she should venture a question of the family that Derufin spoke of earlier. The family that she guessed brought a still sadness upon him.

Her question remained unspoken in her eyes, as she weighed the pleasure of his smile against her curiosity. She knew which was more valuable, and cast her question aside. Instead, Vanwe siezed upon instinct.

"Your family would be proud of you, Derufin," she said quietly and turned to withdraw before she trespassed further. Any family would proud of him, she added silently.

[Snowdog]

'I know the Mitheithel headwaters well, and of the falls there I can tell you that the rock overhang near the top has fallen into the deep pool at the bottom. But you know of what I really speak.'

Silvanis spoke slow and quietly, well covered by the din of voices at the crowded Inn. Sipping his ale again and gauging Kaldir's face, whose eyes for a moment turned again past him to Benia's door. Silvanis then said,

'I was there ere some years ago, with Halbarad and Elendur, and some others of our bretheren. I remember the ambush... that is until all went black. I awoke nearly drowned in the pool with nary a soul about.'

Silvanis indeed remembered that day, and had found out much later after he walked out toward the west.

'I learned after I was found that there were four lost that day, but only two were found dead, and two were missing...'

Yes, two... himself and one other. Surely this was the other!

'You may or may not remember me as Hanasían'

Silvanis was hoping the names would jar his memory some, but he had also noted that his interest in Benia was more than his admiration of her beauty.

Silvanis took note of the entry to the Inn of a woman who dressed in the manner of the peoples of the far north, and thought it ironic that one from the southlands and the north lands of ice would be in the same Inn at the same time. Taking note that Kaldir seemed to be pondering his words of that fateful day long ago, he could see that his watch was only to Benia's door. Seeing he paid no mind to the laughing Gondorian woman at the table nearby, or any who entered recently, Silvanis guessed his interest was only with her. He was maybe a bounty hunter, though not sent to retrieve the wayward Gondorian. He took a chance and though he would really burdun Kaldir's mind...

'So why do you seek the southern woman? Is the price good? Maybe I seek the same...'

Silvanis hushed as Gilly walked by, surely intimidated but also curious and sensing her friend was in danger. Of course Silvanis would do what he could to help Benia, but sometimes one had to appear otherwise to get information.

[Ealasaid]

"You may or may not remember me as Hanasian," said Silvanis, still speaking in hushed tones.

Kaldir nodded, remembering the name. "I am glad indeed to see you are alive, Hanasian," he answered. "So much of that day is shrouded in darkness for me, that I must rely on the memory of others to reconstruct the tale. I, too, heard many years later that I was not the only one to go missing that day." He smiled ruefully. "But I see you are none the worse for wear for it. I, on the other hand..." He made a mute gesture toward the disfigured side of his face. "I was not quite so fortunate."

Kaldir took a sip of his ale. "But I am alive," he concluded amiably. "Some days, that is enough."

"To life!" Silvanis said agreeably and raised his mug. Kaldir raised his as well, and the two of them drank to life. Kaldir's eyes flicked toward the closed door of the injured southern woman. He regretted the action instantly, as when his attention returned to Silvanis, he found the other Ranger watching him shrewdly.

"So why do you seek the southern woman?" Silvanis asked. "Is the price good? Maybe I seek the same..."

"Price?" echoed Kaldir, raising his eyebrows in feigned confusion. "Surely the lady doesn't sell herself to the highest bidder." He looked at her door with what would seem to be renewed interest. "Surely, Hanasian, you jest."

"I am called Silvanis now," Silvanis reminded him. He leaned across the table toward Kaldir, and added in a lower voice, "Don't play the fool with me, friend. We may have been brethren once, but that doesn't mean I trust you. I see your rope and your weapons. You have about you the air of a hunting warg. So, tell me... why do you seek the southern woman? You see, I may be a hunter, too."

Kaldir laughed. "Who am I to this Silvanis, or he to me, that I should tell him my business?" he asked. His pale blue eyes regarded Silvanis coldly. "The last person a hunter should trust would be another hunter."

[Snowdog]

'Bretheren in arms once we were, yet now all is well in the lands under the King.

A somewhat sarcastic tone came over his voice, and Kaldir's reaction spoke much to him, maybe more than Kaldir realized. Silvanis had no doubt of his intentions in general, though he knew he would not gain any further information as to his employ. So Silvanis lifted his tankard and said,

'To Life, and living this day!'

Silvanis stood and sat the empty tankard upon the table, and as another burst of laughter from the young Gondorian woman carried sweetly about the common room, Silvanis stepped next to Kaldir and said in a low voice,

'True words you say that one would not tell another of their business. However, this ranger of the north has at the present time an advantage.'

And with a smile, he turned and walked away toward the stairs. A nod to Gilly as he stepped up the stairs and turned to the door where Benia rested. Tapping upon the door, he looked down toward the dark stare of Kaldir as he said softly,

'Lady Nightshade? Are you awake? It is Silvanis.'

A sleepy "yes" could be heard behind the door, and he slowly pushed it open and stepped in. Letting it close softly, Silvanis stood straight by the door, saying to Benia,

'The hooded man I believe seeks you, and I believe for a bounty price somewhere. Be wary m'lady.'

His eyes were grey in the light of the westering sun in the window As she took note of Silvanis's observations.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Alatariel ran inside, bound to get there as fast as possible. Now that she was inside, she calmed herself, not wanting to make a scene, and went to the kitchen. She kept quiet, not wanting anyone to see her. She found a bowl in one of the cabnits and walked over to a kettle of hot water. Slowley pouring it into the bowl, careful not to spill any, she grabbed a washcloth out of the drawer and went back outside.

She strolled back out of the inn and quickened her pace to jogging after she was out the door, being careful not to spill the hot water. She arrived at the black stallion's stall to find him rocking back and forth. He was tired she could tell. 'It was wolves. This has never happened to you before. I'm surprised,' she said, tending to the wounds. She stopped. Looking into his eyes she gasped, 'It is worse than I thought.'

An hour passed before she finally finished. 'I'll leave you be. You need rest before you can be going on any free running. I'll check on you a little later,' she said to him, stroking his mane. Then she walked back inside, taking the bowl, and rag with her.

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

[Linteamarthwen]

Check your PM's please:

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ June 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[-Hallanárë-]

Outside the Inn's door a tall cloaked figure rode up upon his black steed. The horse brayed loudly as the figure tied it to the rotten wood post.

Then the cloaked shape stalked towards the door of the Inn. The door opened with a slight squeak and he strode in, cloak sweeping the dirt-laden floor of the Inn. He withdrew his hood to reveal a large, grizzled face.

Through the dirt one could make out a scar upon the brow, nigh to the right eye. His hair was untidy and dark. Dark hazelnut eyes set with an everlasting flame scanned the fire lit room. The Elven blood that flowed through his veins was barely distinguishable on the surface. For he looked more of the race of Men. Nonetheless he was Elven and was proud of his lineage. Rumors have it that he is in fact of the line of Feanor of the Elder Days. Thus Hallanàrë was not one to ensnare yourself with and to let be.

As he walked through the room the sword hung at his side barely was above the ground. That sword was Isildagnir, Moon-slayer. Wrought of the same ore as the famous Sting and Glamdring.

Hallanàrë walks towards the innkeeper and demands ale. Upon receiving his drink he sulks over to a corner far from the fire and sits, contemplating the days tidings and journeys.

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

[ June 26, 2003: Message edited by: -Hallanárë- ]

[Elora]

Vanwe crossed the yard in the new evening, unable to stop herself from pausing to gaze upwards at the stars that had freshly sprung in new life that night. The northern sky still held wonder for her, new to her after many years of looking at the sky at what passed for her home. Perhaps, with time should she be granted it, she would learn the names for the stars she could now see. She ran fingers through her loose hair which danced on the breeze of the summer night and resumed her path towards the inn.

On her way through the yard, she noticed a rotten post to which a new horse was tied. She lightly set hand to the mouldering wood in confirmation of it's state, and made a note to see if she could remedy it in the morning. She'd see to the horse on her way back to the stables for the night. For the moment he seemed pleased enough to simply rest and nip at the new shoots of grass the hens had not found.

With pleasantly simple thoughts turning in her mind for a change, the elven maiden walked into the commonroom and glanced about. The Ranger was still there, but Silvanis was gone. Her eyes flickered over the rope that was coiled at Kaldir's belt and darted away as a shiver danced up her spine. Not for her. Don't let that rope be for her. Vanwe continued on to the bar and pondered what to do.

She was not so hungry yet as to brave Cook, who was likely still nonplussed about the afternoon's incident. A fresh flush of delicate rose filled her cheeks at the thought. Many sat at tables with ale or wine, laughing, swapping tales, conversation eddying on the air around them. Some sat alone, watchful and wary. She knew that air, for often she smelt of the same thing as she had the first night at the inn. If someone had approached her then she would have bolted.

On that night, Aman had kindly given her food, drink and even lodgings free of charge. She'd lost her purse the following day, possibly incriminating notes with what little money she had left now with Silvanis. So that meant water, and not the wine she had first tasted that first night. It had been a long day, filled with so many things that her head spun to think of them, and the wine would have been good...

But so was the water. Fetching another earthenware mug, Vanwe filled it once more and sipped at it, watching the commonroom over the rim. She spotted a table in a quiet nook, under a window, and moved towards that with feet that could not disguise their elven grace for all of her worn dress and shy mannerisms. Vanwe settled into a seat and took up her study of the night sky once more.

Through one window of the inn, a face now unguarded and open was turned towards the sky, bright blue eyes wide and hair that held the light of the commonroom within golden strands. Daughter of a High House, kin to Galadriel and Finarfin, a descendant lost behind the shadow of evil that had fallen on her mother and likely murdered her father. She sat oblivious to all this and the rest of the commonroom in a rare moment of peace with her tapered fingers laced around a pottery mug, at once fey and all too real, and wondered what they named the beautiful northern stars in this land where perhaps she could find more peace, and answers. Perhaps... hope flickered bravely that it could be so within her heart.

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~ DISCUSSION THREAD OPEN ~*~*~*~

Helkahothion's RPG, Gondorian Housecall, is now taking on characters on its discussion thread.

Go take a look at it! See if you'ld like to play!

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Aleia laughed along with Madea. She was feeling the best she had ever felt in many days, but a little thought was nibbling at the back of her mind. She loved the Green Dragon, loved the way it almost felt like home, but she was tired of the walls and doors. She wanted to ride and feel the cool rush of wind past her face. After I am done fraternizing with Madea here, I shall take my leave, she thought.

Ruby arrived with the ale, bread, and honey. Aleia's stomach had begun to rumble, and her mouth watered at the sight of the food. She caught the sleeve of Ruby's dress as she turned to leave and said, "Some clotted cream as well, Ruby dear." Ruby nodded and hurried off, returning quickly with the cream. Aleia massed honey and clotted cream on her bread and took a large bite, relishing the rich taste. Madea giggled, causing Aleia to wipe her mouth and check if she had spilled on herself.

"What is it, Madea?" she asked. "Oh, Aleia," Madea replied, "You act as if you have not eaten for months! The expression on your face was simply priceless!" Aleia chuckled at herself and then continued on with her bread, cream, and honey. When she had finished, she took a large gulp of ale and patted her mouth with her handkerchief. Now is the time, she told herself.

"Madea, I think I shall leave you now. I am already too tired of walls and doors and rooms. Your presence and conversation has been lovely. I hope dearly to see you again, Madea. Good luck on your travels, and I wish you all the best."

"Good bye, Aleia," replied Madea. She looked quite downcast now, left alone again. Aleia felt a pang of regret, but she could not stay here much longer. She had to leave. With a nod and a bow, she went quickly upstairs to retrieve her rucksack and then exited the Dragon, paying on the way out. She got to the stable and slipped inside. Derufin was nowhere to be seen. She walked rapidly to Skeet's stall and got him out. She mounted and galloped off into the late afternoon sun. Ah, the cool rush of air that she had missed so!

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

The kitchen was all a bustle with preparations for the evening meal when Gilly reached the enterance. Immediately the heat and humidity pressed upon the hobbit, making her feel as though she were a lump of fat slowly melting in a frying pan. She longed for her cool home at times like this; and a bit of quiet.

Mrs. Vinca Bunce, the cook, was hurriedly traveling to and fro between oven and stove, stove and larder talking all the while to Miss Myrtle Bunce, her sister-in-law. The older of the two hobbits was perched on top of a high stool creating vegetable mounds of varying hues. A bulging woven bag leaned up against the stool at her feet.

“Ah Miss Gilly, you’re back!” said the cook as Gilly emptied her tray at the washing basin and began cleaning the dishes. “And how is Miss Benia feeling?”

“Right enough,” replied the hobbit. “Her wit is as sharp as ever, though the pain is no doubt sharp too, but she bears it without complaint, poor thing. I think it has worn her out. Thank you for the soup, Miss Vinca. It was unsurpassingly good, as always!”

Seeing her neighbor, Myrtle got down off the stool and began rummaging through the contents of her woven bag, producing a rather fierce looking taxidermy squirrel. “Here Gilly, I found the squirrel you were mentioning. Got it at quite a bargin too as they had placed it on the burn pile out back. Look not a whisker got singed!”

Gilly had totally forgotten about the mathom sale, but was immensely pleased to find that Myrtle had remembered her in the flurry. “Thank you! And Miss Vinca if you could spare thistreasure for a moment I’d like to ask yet another favor of Miss Myrtle here. It will be nothing more than a short break I think.”

“You’ve picked a fine time my girl!” grumbled the cook going to the open back door to let in the baker’s delivery of fresh warm bread wrapped up in cloth bundles and stacks of pies. “ Shoo, the both of you! You’re taking up too much room!”

Gilly led Myrtle to the doorway. “I have a mission for you Miss Mrytle, I am worried about Miss Benia, more than just her ankle. These two men there”, she said gesturing out to the commons room, “I don’t rightly know what they’re up to, and why they ‘ve taken an interest in her.. But they know who I am or I would do the thing myself. Do you think that you could sit by them and sort of do some listening?”

“Which two Gilly?”

“The two rangers, you see? Over there near the stairs the graying one and the other with the rope at his side.”

“You’ll have to show me dear. My eyesight’s no good. And what are all these men about for? Haven’t they heard about the king’s edict?”

“Pehaps they haven’t.” said Gilly trying to stay with the matter at hand. “I’ll just go by the table. You can follow at a distance and sit near them, for a bit.”

Gilly, walked into the commons room and over toward the rangers. She glanced at them as she passed by but couldn’t hear a word, whether from her heartbeat pounding in her ears or the joy of seeing Silvanis’ empty soup bowl she hadn’t the presence of mind to tell. But seeing Myrtle settle herself down at an adjacent table she made a wide loop clearing away the odd empty cup she found abandoned on the tables, before heading back to the kitchen.

Gilly didn’t have to wait long before Myrtle came trundling up rather hurriedly.

“Oh you were rightly worried, my dear. It seems that the two know one another and were discussing Miss Nightshade’s character, and something to do about hunting!”

Not waiting to hear more Gilly rushed off to station her self at the foot of the stair leading to Benia room. She was a light deterent she knew, but she could draft reinforcements from the commons room if need be.

“To Life and living this day!” she heard Silvanis say before rising from the table and speaking again lower this time, something that apparently was not to the scarred ranger liking. He then turned to the stairs and nodded at Gilly as he past her by, the hobbit still seated, following him with her gaze.

[ June 26, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[Envinyatar]

He bit back the remark which came first to his mind. ‘What is pride to those who are dead.’ He understood that she meant well, and after all she knew nothing of him, and that, by his choice.

Where was she now, he wondered, the one with whom he had felt safe enough to tell his story. She had listened, and made no judgments, only called him back from his memories to stand before her.

The stars were still hidden in the early evening sky, as he leaned against the stable door’s frame. Wilwarin would be there, he thought glancing up to the northeast. A small breeze picked up the dirt in the yard and spiraled it upward for a space of time, and moved on.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Derufin’s stomach sent up a cry. ‘Don’t stand about like some moon-faced calf,’ it said. ‘All poets aside, you can’t live on thoughts of love and other airy subjects!’ An ominous rumbling issued from beneath his shirt. ‘ Feed me, you ale-swilling lout! Or I’ll bring you to your knees like a fainting maid.’ He rubbed his hand over it, and listened to it growl and grumble in its emptiness.

He paused in the yard between the stable and the kitchen’s door long enough to brush the sawdust from his shirt and breeches and wash the day’s grime from his hands. A quick splash of water to his face refreshed him, and he ran his hand over the stubble on his cheeks and chin, wondering if he should take time to scrape it off.

‘Cook won’t mind if I look a bit rough,' he decided. 'She’s seen scarier things, I’m sure.’ Derufin pushed back his dark hair and made for the door, the smell of homemade pie drawing him on . . .

[Everdawn]

"bye..." Madea repeated as Aleia went off. "Alone -again-" she sighed. Her almost black eyes now dull and black again. She then rummaged through her bag looking for her leather gloves and put them on. Peering into her bag she drew out a piece of parchment and a pen and began to write. A look of hard concearntration etched on the young woman's face.

To: General Nillo Obisentauri, Of Dol Amroth.
Dear Father
By now, you must surely have noticed that I am gone. (Though I will understand if you haven't noticed.) You most certanily must know why I have run away. This is the only way that i fear I will get through to you, I do not want to marry any soldier which you have chosen for me.

Nor do I wish to marry for a long time yet, and at nearly seventeen, i see no reason. YOu may argue that many a woman is married before this age, but I will say to you that I am a different person, you have never given me a chance to live my life, or even go anywhere. To you father, i say this. I am safe, wherever I am, and I am Happy!

Do not send anyone to look for me, and I have the rangers of The North on my side, you have been warned. They have their ways of letting me know if you have sent people to take me home. I may return in due time, but that is MY decision.
-Madea Obisentauri

Madea stopped to tie her long black hair up out of the way. "well, At least that will get the message across I hope." she sighed. Madea took her time to gaze around the room, she watched intently at the people. There were two men talking, and other women, hobbits and elves. She stuffed the letter into her bag, making a mental note to find a messenger to take it to Dol Amroth. "Now for a glass of wine and company" she sighed and sat alone at her table.

[Elora]

Watching out the window, Vanwe observed in the faint light that lingered from the day still Derufin approach the inn. She watched the Man for a while, her thoughts darting like minnows in the shallows to and fro. Her last words she knew had not been well received. The flash of objection she had read in his face, his smile now only a memory at that instant. Regret welled within her at the memory and her brow furrowed. She did not understand.

For, if Derufin did not think that a family could be proud of him, what hope was there for her. All she had to guide her through the lonely years of abandoned childhood was a conjured pitcure of a father hardly anyone spoke of. She had spun layers around the concept she had conceived as a child one night as she lay aching more from her isolation than the beating she had received for some infraction.

She had added to that idea in ways she could not for a mother. Her father was kind, clever and no matter how terrible she was according to those around her, loved and was proud of her. What she saw in Derufin's face in that instant threatened to pull all of that down. If a family could not be proud of him, then how could she merit her father's regard? There was no way. The weight of unshed tears glimmered in her eyes and she lowered them to the table as she set the cup down.

Around her, the inn seemed to get louder and somehow oppressive. Painfully conscious of the doubts held by Aman and Lespheria concerning her, Vanwe shrunk in her chair. Her appetite vanished into thin air. Her head felt heavy, and she rested it against her hand as her lower lip trembled. Not here!

Before she knew it, Vanwe was on her feet in a rush to escape the press of the inn. In her panic to hide her rising humiliation she lost all regard for whose attention her speedy departure may draw. What painfully turned within her rose sharply, and on feet sped by a lifetime of grief, she ran from the commonroom. She barely noticed who she passed on her way, or even if they had to leap aside to avoid collision.

Into the stables she plunged in a headlong flight, past the horse tied to the hitching post. Vanwe flung herself up the ladder and across the loft. Her legs refused to cooperate at the mattrass that was her bed and she sank onto it. For a moment that stretched, Vanwe fought against the rising tide. Then, a small sob floated from her lips and through her hands that she had clapped across her mouth out of force of habit.

It was followed by another and she swallowed the third but not the tears. Vanwe pressed her face into the mattrass and her shoulders shook soundlessly then. Even when she was pinned by her past in a dark place, she could still be quiet. Shadow swirled around in her mind and heart, and a longing so profound that it seemed a bottomless pit sliced through her.

In the quietness of the stable loft, Vanwe struggled to piece together what shards she could to allow her fight. She reached deep and far to do so, labouring hard to overcome the tears and find some strength. She was not weak, even if they said Elves were. If her father was not proud, then she would try harder. Perhaps Derufin was wrong, and perhaps if she just tried to better make her way in the world, as he seemed to have, she would make her father, her imaginary dream father, proud.

Her shoulders stilled after a time, and she lay still on the mattrass in the quiet, eyes closed as she continued to rein it all in again to that private place to which not another soul had ever been granted.

[Annalaliath]

Her firends and even the inn keeper seemed to vanish. So, Annalaliath turned on her heal to leave the inn, but before she did, Annalaliath left her freinds a note.

I am headed to Rivendell. To make amends, or not. Then I plan to head towards Rohan. If you feel the need follow me, you may catch me if you are quick.

Yours truly

Annalaliath

Then she left the Inn to adventres unknown. As she left, her few possesions in tow, she looked back, pausing in the door. The room looked warm and comforting, the man who had spoken to her and Morwen the night before was looking a bit forlorn. The other inn patrins sat around taalking and eating, smoking and laughing.

Annalaliath turned and left. She walked through the shire, the hills, the trees, and grass, the beutifull world at large....

[ June 27, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

[Ealasaid]

Benia listened to Silvanis' warnings with a somber face. Her dark amber eyes looked troubled. "Thank you, Silvanis," she said when he had finished. "Yet again, I find myself in your debt. Both Lady Lespheria and my friend Gilly have expressed similar warnings, but none so specific as yours." For a moment, she appeared lost in thought, as she reached for the sheathed sword that had once belonged to her father. She placed it alongside the left armrest of her chair so that it could be drawn easily should the necessity arise. When she allowed her attention to return to Silvanis, she looked as though she had come to some kind of a decision.

"I know there is a bounty on my head," she explained quietly. "Just as there is for all of my tribe... or what is left of it. It goes back to the war and before."

She gestured to the chair opposite hers. "Please sit." She waited silently as Silvanis took his seat. When he had settled in, she continued, "Of late, I have been careless and too quick to trust, but my instincts tell me you are a man of honor."

SIlvanis inclined his head in acknowledgement of her words. "I try to do what is right, m'lady," he answered. Judging by his demeanor, Benia was pleased to see that he seemed intrigued by the direction the conversation was taking. She interpretted it encouragingly.

"While I feel I have intruded on your kindness too much already, I find I have no choice but to ask one more favor of you." Her eyes studied his. When she was certain she saw nothing wicked flickering behind his gaze, no sign of deviousness or self-interest, she continued. "As you probably know, before I fell on the stairs, I was preparing to depart the Shire on a rather urgent journey. It seems that one of my uncles, someone we had thought long dead, still lives. My mother's eldest brother, Sahlman, is still being held by a renegade group of tribesmen who remain loyal to the memory of the Eye. My uncle is old now and not in his right mind, from what they say, but he is still my kinsman."

Silvanis nodded, taking her story in. "I understand, m'lady," he said after a moment. "But what is it you wish me to do?"

"Merely deliver a message." Benia leaned forward in her chair. "I was to meet a small party of my fellow tribesmen. We intended to journey south to the desert and locate this tribe of renegades. We had hoped to attempt a rescue, but now..." she gestured helplessly to her broken ankle. "Now such a journey is beyond me."

"And you wish me to find your tribesmen and let them know that you cannot accompany them," finished Silvanis. He looked both troubled and doubtful. "While I have a familiarity and, indeed, a fondness for the desertlands, the desert is quite a long way from The Shire. You ask quite a lot of an old Ranger."

"Oh, no," Benia objected, smiling. "That would be a favor indeed! Actually, my father's people are Breefolk. All I ask is that a message be delivered to them in Bree. They know how to contact my mother's people. If I do not appear as expected and send no word of my delay, they will fear me lost as well. You see my situation."

"That I do," Silvanis replied. "But what of the Ranger downstairs?"

"He wouldn't dare harm me in the middle of a crowded common room. So long as I keep myself surrounded by Shirefolk and the good people of the Inn, I should be able to keep him at bay." She paused. "At least for a time."

She cast Silvanis a hopeful look. "Will you help me?"

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman flicked a strand of hair from her face with a sharp head movement as she heard someone enter the kitchen, her hands occupied with a pie dish. She glanced up quickly to see who had come in, straightening, and grinned at Derufin.

“Back from the evils of over-consumption of alcohol, Derufin?” She teased, her voice like one about to do a lecture, then changed to her usual voice. “Looking better than before, certainly.”

“No thanks to you, Aman.” The stable master shot back, also grinning. But there was something vague in his grin, faraway, as if he was thinking deeply about something else- Aman was pretty sure she wasn’t the only thing making him smile. On cue, Derufin sighed happily, reinforcing Aman’s feeling. She cocked her head to one side.

“Good grief, Derufin, what’s wrong with you? You sound like a love-sick puppy!”

Sure enough, Derufin looked startled and almost guilty, and to Aman’s surprise, a slight flush began to creep over his neck. But he was saved from further comment from Aman when the pie dish in her hands, obviously bored of waiting to be put down as the Innkeeper chatted, burnt her hands through the thin dish cloth she had put between her hands and the dish. With a yelp, Aman put the dish down quickly on the table, almost dropping it in her hurry. Cook jumped slightly and turned, tsking quietly and shooting a disapproving glare at Aman before she bustled past out of the kitchen. Derufin took advantage of the moment as the Innkeeper stood sucking hard at her finger and having mutinous thoughts about treacherous dishcloths.

“Get it off the table, get it off the table!” He hissed urgently. Aman took a moment to comprehend, staring at him, confused, then realised, and her eyes widened. Gingerly, she took up the dishcloth, despite its recent treachery, and picked up the pie again, transferring it from the wooden table to a chopping board. Cook would have murdered her if she had seen that…but her troubles were not over. Cook bustled back in from the bar, and Derufin made do with subtly clearing his throat. Aman looked over and almost cursed aloud when she saw that the table had been burnt by the steaming pie dish. She started towards it, to try and clean it off, futile as that may have proved, but Cook was already turning. Derufin hastily flung another tea towel, decorated with a map of the Shire, onto the burn, covering it as Cook turned. Aman grinned at him, relieved and grateful. But Cook wasn’t stupid, and as she saw the Innkeeper grinning at Derufin in such a relieved manner, her eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” She said, slowly and suspiciously. Aman’s face immediately became a practised picture of innocence.

“What is what, Cook?” She inquired angelically. Cook’s eyes narrowed even further and she transferred her look Derufin, who hastily had a coughing fit to cover up his laughter at the hobbit’s suspicious glare. Aman hastened over to him, thumping him on the back, and providing a fair distraction for both of them. Cook wasn’t convinced, that Aman could see, but she let it drop. Aman furtively whispered her thanks to Derufin, then returned to the over to take out the second pie- there had been four in.

“I was thinking about drinks,” She started, in an attempt to get the subject completely away from herself and Derufin’s ‘guilt’, at least until she could deal with the burn completely. Cook tsking intensified, and Derufin’s grin widened as he rolled his eyes. “And you were telling me off-“

“No!” Aman cut him off, rolling her own eyes. “Not like that, and well you know it! I meant the drinks for the Naming Ceremony.” Cook gave a small, curious ‘Hmm?’ noise, and Derufin also straightened slightly. Aman continued, “I saw something down in the cellar when I was down there earlier- a sort of drinks making machine. I would like to take a closer look at it-”

“Oh no…” Derufin groaned, seeing what was coming next.

“And I wondered if you would mind going down and bringing it up, so we can have a better look?” She finished hopefully.

Derufin spotted a ray of hope. “Does whether I mind matter?”

“No.” Aman and Cook replied in unison.

“Didn’t think so,” the stable master sighed. Turning, he left the kitchen. Aman put down the pie on the board beside the other pie. Both were apple and raison and smelt delicious. Once more the Innkeeper thanked her lucky stars that Vinca Bunce had come with the Inn, and her incredible cooking skills. For a few minutes, she and Cook busied themselves with their own things, Cook with finishing off the main meal, and Aman doing the desert.

“Do we not have enough drinks anyway, Aman?” Cook inquired.

“Well, its mainly for the children, I was thinking. Milk and apple juice are all very well, but this looked like it would be able to make lemonade- one of my friends in Rohan made that his speciality, and I’m pretty sure they were at least similar, from the quick look I got.”

“From the quick look you got?” Cook’s voice was curious. “Why didn’t you take a better look when you were down there?”

Aman hesitated. Now was the time to decide whether she had truly heard something- and whether it had been anything important. She had heard that rustle, and was sure she had heard movement behind her when her back was turned- but then she had been scared when she had thought so, and a scared mind can imagine all sorts of things. Besides, it was probably just a cat or something! But would a cat make a rustling noise, like clothing, like a dress…

“I just…well, I wanted to get a message off to Butterbur pretty quickly.” She improvised. “There was a man going to Bree tonight and I, er, I didn’t want to…keep him waiting.”

“Oh yes?” Cook’s voice was a little disbelieving once more, but Aman hoped she had got away with it. “Did you send the message eventually?”

Aman closed her eyes as she realised her story had just completely broken down. She hadn’t send the message. “I...I...” She began slowly, until a crash distracted them both. Cook jumped, as usual, and Aman couldn’t help doing the same. Aman dashed out into the bar.

“The sound came from the cellar, I think.” She called to Cook. Her heart was beating wildly- Derufin was there. She immediately thought of the rustling and the movement she had heard and her heart beat even faster as she came to the top of the stairs, peering into the gloom of the cellar down the stairs...

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Alatariel continued out of the stables and into the inn. She was tired after her long day, and decided to rest. She went back to her room, and lied down on her bed. There was a small candle on the table. She didn't bother to even light it, but went straight to the bed.

She continued to lie there, unable to sleep. Trying as hard as she could, yet she sat there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. As tired as she was, she walked over to the window. There was a wooden rocking chair, the side facing the window, turned just slightly. She went over to it and sat down starring out the window. She took off her coat, and laid it on the window sill. Her long blue gown shined in the light. The small room had no breeze, it was so stuffy. Alatariel got up off the wooden rocking chair, and opened the window.

The wind blew in with so much force, Alatariel was blown back into the rocking chair. She was happy to have a breeze, but was cold. She found a blanket at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulder. Her pouch lay next to the bed. Pinking it up, she sat down on the bed and began to rummage through it. Spending a few minutes with her arm half in the bag, she finally found what she was looking for, and took out a gem. It was a sapphire, and it was huge. It wasn't attached to a chain or anything. It was just a sapphire. Alatariel starred at it for a few minutes, when she heard a rustle from outside the door, and in one quick movement put it back inside her pouch. Walking back to the window, she heard a door shut and close from outside. Alatariel sat back in the rocking chair and looked outside the window, as if she was waiting for someone.

[ June 27, 2003: Message edited by: Alatariel Telemnar ]

[Ealasaid]

"True words you say that one would not tell another of their business. However, this Ranger of the north has at the present time an advantage," Silvanis said with a smile, as he turned and walked away toward the stairs. Kaldir watched him go with a rather sardonic smile of his own playing at the corners of his mouth. He saw Silvanis drop a nod to the desert lady's hobbit friend before vanishing up the stairs and into the lady's room.

No doubt gone to tell her all about me, he thought to himself. Set her on her guard. He was a little disappointed that what had earlier promised to be such an easy catch was now turning out to be nothing of the sort. It was a setback, yes, but not catastrophic. If nothing else, Kaldir was immensely patient. The lady would drop her guard again eventually. When she did, he would be there. In the meantime, he decided to enjoy the hospitality of the Inn.

He was just tipping his tankard to his lips to finish the last swallow of the Green Dragon's excellent brown ale, when the thin elflady he had noticed earlier, the skittish one with the pale golden hair, abruptly got up from a table and dashed out the front door, nearly upending a pair of hobbits who were on their way in. Curious, he walked across to the window and watched her progress across the stableyard until she vanished into the stable itself. She ran heedlessly, as though a pack of angry orcs were on her heels, her long hair flowing out behind her like a mantle. There was definitely fear in the elflady, fear and something else, but he wasn't quite sure what the other element was that made her run like that. He turned it over in his mind as he finished his ale and set the mug aside. She interested him professionally. She was definitely running from something. What he had to determine was what - or who - was in pursuit.

As the stable door closed behind her, Kaldir realised there was something familiar about her, not so much about the elf woman herself, but more something in the line of her delicate features. The echo of a description he had heard in the south played through his mind. "Tall and thin, with golden hair, she is quick of hand and foot." Thoughtfully, he gazed across the yard at yet another closed door. "Her eyes are the blue of the midsummer sky, her skin as smooth and fair as the Lady Galadriel's..."

His eyes narrowed as, for the second time that afternoon, a deeply buried memory stirred at the back of his mind. Intense heat and fire. His skin burning. And another delicate-featured elf woman. laughing soullessly. Pain and inpenetrable black smoke. He flinched visibly as a spear of remembered pain shot through his smashed cheekbone. No, it is merely coincidence, he told himself. This can't be she. This one is afraid. The other one did not know the meaning of mercy or fear.

Kaldir bowed his head and, with a great force of will, pushed the memories of the other elf woman back down into the dead place in his mind, the place where he stored the pain. Twelve years had passed since his release, but he still was not equipped to deal with the horrors of what he had endured in Mordor at the hands of his captors. He would go mad. Even so, the terrible beauty of Naiore Dannan, the Ravenner of Mordor, still hung before his eyes like a shroud. He had only seen her once, briefly. She had passed over him without a glance and killed the man beside him. She looks like her...

Moving toward the door, Kaldir cast a quick glance over his shoulder toward the upstairs door of the desert lady. With a no doubt broken ankle, she would not be going anywhere soon, and he was not the sort to sit outside her door all afternoon like an obsessive terrier. He slid out the door and moved silently across the stableyard.

[Envinyatar]

‘By the One, it’s dark down here! She could have at least given me a candle!’

Derufin muttered his way down the stairs, picking his was carefully step by step. Once his foot nearly slipped on a pile of old rags stored to the side of one of the rough wood steps and another time he stumbled over a stack of old ledgers left mouldering there once the pages had been filled. To his left on the open stairway was a small shaft of dim light where the last of the evening’s light crept in through a small dirty window near where the top of the cellar cleared the ground it was dug into.

Funny, he thought, that the small window should be open. ‘I should see to that,’ he said into the cool air that drifted in through it. ‘Too many edibles down here, don’t want some critter getting in to eat his fill and make a mess of everything.’

He paused at the foot of the stairs, getting his bearings. Beneath the staircase he knew was the pantry where cook kept the root vegetables and spices that needed cooler storage. To the right of the stairs, taking up the length and most of the width of the Inn building above it was where the casks of ale and mead and bottles of wine and flagons of other spirits were stored. Being on The Great East Road, the Inn often saw a heavy flow of traffic, and it prided itself on never having to turn away a customer’s request for a drink.

To the left of the stairs, as he remembered from the few times he’d been down here, were floor to ceiling shelves, packed with all those ‘necessary’ contraptions the Innkeepers through the years had thought they needed. The poor light from the dingy window gave him just enough light to pick out the ‘drink thing’ that Aman had so vaguely described.

And wouldn’t you just know it,’ he grumbled, reaching his arms above his head. ‘It was someone’s bright idea to store it up high.’

The ‘thing’, a large, awkward metal contraption had been the pride and joy of one of the Innkeepers before the War. Some passing tradesman had seen the beaming Innkeeper as a prize pullet and plucked him fully – selling a lemon-squeezing device he’d been unable to unload since he’d been conned into it Rohan. To his credit it did squeeze twenty lemons at a time, but the thing was so large and so cumbersome, it became an ordeal to get it out and then put it back when needed. The cook at that time had put her foot down about it taking up space in her kitchen. So the fabulous lemon juicer had been put away these past ten years, and now sported a heavy coating of dust and cobwebs.

He had just stepped back with one leg, and shifted his weight to it, in preparation for pulling the squeezer down and to the floor, when he heard a rustling noise behind him. ‘Who’s there?’ he called, his arm muscles already tensing for the pull. He looked over his right shoulder and saw something scurry deeper into the shadows.

‘Hey!’ he yelled loudly at whatever had moved.

His movements to see what was behind him threw the juicer off balance on the shelf, and before he could move out of the way it came crashing down on him, knocking him on his back - coming to rest on his left lower leg, pinning his ankle between its bulk and the unforgiving hardness of the packed earth floor.

Stars and indeed entire constellations exploded before his eyes, and curses poured from his mouth which would have made a corsair cower . . .

[piosenniel]

smilies/biggrin.gif Notice of New Game Opening! smilies/biggrin.gif

Arien and Maikafanawen invite you come see their game:

~*~*~*~*~*~ The Fall of Greenwood the Great ~*~*~*~*~*~

6 Elves from Greenwood Forest (later to be known as Mirkwood) are needed. 3 males and 3 females.

Read the game proposal then submit a Character Description WITH a First post for your character.

It should be a very fun game!

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Elora]

When the storm had, for that time at least, passed, Vanwe pushed herself back from the now damp mattrass. She sat, arms wrapped around herself, and glanced about the stable loft with eyes that could pierce the shadows of night. Eyes that the villagers had said were wickedly cursed by her bloodline. She could make out the drawers that stood against the sloping roof of the stable, empty apart from a scattering of a few possessions in the topmost drawer.

Vanwe rose, walking across to open the drawer and retrieve the length of braided leather that she had carried with her. She'd found it the night she began her flight, after she'd taken a knife to the leather braid that had marked her back and shoulders too many times in bloody anger. It had lain in small pieces at her feet by the time she had finished, and she had dropped the knife and instead picked up one small length.

A knife would have been of greater use, but she had carried this fragment over all the miles since as a reminder. Vanwe wrapped her fingers around it, solemn and grave for a moment. She could not forget. She could not return to that. She would never permit it to happen again. With her other hand, she scraped back strands of hair and straightened her back. Noone stood over her now, wordlessly grunting as they let the braid rise and fall. Noone gathered in a circle around her now, chanting supersitious oaths against witches and Elves.

Instead, she was free in a way she had never been before. Her feet went as she chose. She worked and laboured as she wished. She had only to free her mind and her heart and she would be worthy of her father. The leather braid she clutched was a powerful symbol, one that she had made out of the fear. In the darkness of the stable, the horses below were the only witnesses to hear her whisper, "I will be free," with a startling intensity and desperation.

When they had faded from hearing, they blazed still in her heart and mind. Vanwe turned from the dresser and moved to the furtherest edge of the loft to open out the hay doors. They swung smoothly on well oiled hinges, and she stood there looking out over the inn and the immediate surroundings.

"Free," she repeated again. She did not need to skulk in shadows any longer if she did not choose to. Vanwe soon had flint to candle and a small flame sprang into life, gently flickering. She set that down and retrieved another possession, another lump of wood. This time it was smooth yew, a piece she had collected on the long road.

Sitting by the candle, Vanwe removed her belt knife as she rolled the yew around in her hands. It spoke of many things to her, and soon her knife started to rougly carve out the shape she felt resonnate within her. Below a horse shifted in its stall, Vanwe ignoring it, and instead fell into another song, one she heard mothers sing to their children in the village. It was sweet, simple and soothing.

Shavings fell to the floor and over her lap as she worked, small chunks and finer curlings depending on the stage of the carving. The wall behind her creaked faintly, as if the timbers were settling in around her. For some reason, the creak lifted her head. Instinct demanded she look about even though she was safe in the loft, far away from the village. Feeling a little foolish and unsettled, Vanwe set the roughly shaped wood aside and reached for the candle. She rose, candle and knife in each hand and walked to the edge of the loft so that she could peer over the edge at the horses below.

She stood there, still, for a while, scanning the lower stable, until she came at last to the newly installed horse at the far end. It was that horse which was restless, and knowing what it was like to be alone and frightened, Vanwe moved to do something about that.

She stowed her belt knife and nimbly climbed down the ladder. As she came to the stall, gently murming soothing meaningless phrases, her senses were hit with something else. Wolves, fear, injury assailed her. Vanwe blinked, startled, and continued on. She set the candle well out of the way of the straw, and moved into the stall.

The horse was skittish, shivering as her hands ran over it's coat. Vanwe steadied herself as the horse sent flashes of wolves, and fear. Most of all it was fear and pain she sensed. Untrained by either her mother or her father, Vanwe found it difficult to make sense of it all. Still, her quick hands soon found places needing attention. For the second time that day, she sensed for the wrongness and attempted to heal and put it right.

When her senses found something that was not a horse's flank or leg, something more wrong and much more dangerous, she fell back with a gasp of shock. The horse whickered fitfully as she stood, unsure of what she had found, and retrieved the candle. Instinct said that someone was there. If there was, she needed to know... foe or not? The memory of what she had stumbled across suggested the answer.

Someone was there, nearby, and she should run. The candle cast a golden glow over her features as she peered about the stable. Her fingers worked at her belt knife frantically. Run, her instinct screamed. No, came the response, like a tolling bell. She would not, not this time. She had already decided she was tired of running.

"Who is there," Vanwe called in a voice half question and half a bravado challenge.
She moved out of the stall and into the more open area of the stable.

"Who is there? Do you need help," she asked, remembering the wrongness she had sensed. How anyone could live without healing for that, she did not know. The silence of the stable, the occassional creak of the walls and roof, could not mask the insistant screaming of her instinct. Her muscles coiled in readiness as Vanwe tried to pierce the evening darkness held at bay by her candle nub.

Unable to see anything, she fell back on her senses and extended them. The wrongness, the pain, struck harder this time. They were close. Fearful fancies flew through her on ghostly wings. She grasped candle and knife harder, and waited for the first hint of movement.

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Alatariel got up out of the rocking chair. She felt the stallion, something was wrong. Picking her sack up on the way out of the room, she ran to the stables.

"Who's there?" she heard a frightened voice yell from the stallions stall. "Who is there? Do you need help?" the voice said. Alatariel ducked back into a nearby stall as the person, came out of the stallion's stall. She saw the elf, she seemed frightened yet worried. Alatariel saw that she was grasping the knife at her belt.

"Please let go of the knife, I wish you no harm," Alatariel said rising up out of the stall, and into the middle of the aisle of the stable, "What do you want with my stallion? Why are you in his stall," Alatariel asked the elf-maiden, who loosened the grip of her knife.

[Elora]

Vanwe blinked at Alatariel's appearance from another stall, momentarily at a loss. What she saw did not match what her senses told her.

"I am the Stable Master's assistant. I heard movement and sensed your horse was in need of healing," Vanwe explained. Even as she did so, her senses stretched and still the wrongness pervaded what she felt. Vanwe glanced at her meagre belt knife and realised that in her patched and worn dress she must very much resemble a beggar or thief. She lowered the knife, but did not put it away. The wrongness she felt did not emanate from Alatariel, but it was still there.

"I have some small ability to heal," Vanwe further offered, "I could not sit above and let your horse suffer through the night. My name is Vanwe."

Vanwe attempted a fragile smile at the wary Alatariel. Understandably protective about her horse, Alatariel moved to inspect what Vanwe had been doing in the stall earlier. She found his condition greatly improved as she looked him over.

"With some rest he will recover well," Vanwe said. The Elf maiden ventured another smile, again it was a little unsure upon her face. "I do not mind sleeping in the stables, but sometimes the noises of the night play with me," she tried to explain. The result was far from satisfactory. Alatariel straightened and favoured Vanwe with a sceptical look that spoke volumes.

"The inn has wonderful fare," Vanwe went on, "Do not miss it on my account. I am sorry to have troubled you so." Vanwe bobbed a curtsy in the straw and dust of the stable to Alatariel and withdrew to climb back up her ladder. Her heart was still thudding in her chest, and her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. A prize fool she had been, all on account of a creaking stable and intuition.

Shaking her head, Vanwe set the candle nub on the dresser and stole a breath of clear evening air. The candle, only a small remnant winked out shortly thereafter, leaving only the growing brightness of the summer night sky to shimmer through the open hay doors at her. She still held her knife as she stood by the dresser as though graven in stone. Vanwe attempted to still the urgent whirling of intuitive danger and ignore the memory of what her reaching senses had found. Such injury, such wrongness! She rubbed a hand over her face, as though to wipe the memory from her.

When again the darkness around her seemed to move around her, Vanwe startled and whirled around to stare back into the loft behind her. Who or whatever it was, it was real, it had not fled at Alatariel's approach and it was in the loft with her. Vanwe raised a hand as if to part the veil shadows, her wrist a pale glimmer in the darkness. Her other hand tightened again around her small belt knife.

"Who," she breathed, "is there?"

[Theoric Windcaller]

The Dwarf didn't know what was to become of him when he stepped out of the door and he spotted four riders coming up fast, leaving clouds of dust behind them as they galloped forth.

He stopped, and retreated a step, but to his relief, the horses halted with the riders' commands. They were fine beasts, brown with gleaming reigns and sparkling eyes. The rider in front slowly dismounted his horse, holding a small envelope in hand, on the back it was sealed with dried red candle wax.

The rider was a Dwarf, or a child, juding from his stature. This surprised Theoric. Children weren't usually given such valuable horses.

The rider removed his helmet. It was a child, maybe of the age of twelve. He was from Rohan, Theoric could tell by the look in his eyes.

"Is there a Theoric Windcaller in the house?" asked the boy, who came up to the Dwarf.

"It is he to whom you speak. What is this about?"

"I am sorry, you'll have to prove it by showing us the Alànthèor," said the rider.

Theoric pulled up the sleeve of his roughly torn brown leather tunic to reveal a small marking of a mountain upon his shoulder. Yes, the Alànthèor, a small marking of Theoric's family. Only Theoric and his brother, Tallon have that marking, because they are the last of their kin.

The rider shook his head and handed Theoric the envelope. "It was addressed to you by a Tallon Windcaller. He did not give it to me personally, but only recently a bird came into, carrying this in it's claws along with a sidenote, telling us your name, background and your estimated location."

Theoric nodded his head as he quickly opened the envelope. It read:

Dearest brother. It has been not too long since we parted, but already I feel as if we have been seperated for years. Lately I have gone on an expedition with Bayin, our dear friend. The expedition leads deep into the Misty Mountains. There seems to be no sign of a storm yet, but crossing into the mountains, anything goes, and nature shows no mercy. I shall speak to you later.

Behind the first letter, there was another one. Again, he picked it up and began reading from it.

Dearest brother. I am afraid to say that Bayin, our life-long friend, has been taken by the storm. It was early this morning when a great lightning hit the tree that Bayin was standing by. Bayin was crushed, and the storm almost claimed my life as well. Now I sit, mourning the death of our companion and writing in this letter. I am sending Dalethorn with this letter to Rohan, along with a sheet telling where to locate you in the Shire. Dalethorn is my trustworthy bird that I saved some time ago from a fallen nest. I am afraid to say, I shan't survive this. I am quickly freezing and I fear that much more of this shall result in my death. This is the last letter I shall send to you. I am to die, but think it joy when i die, for I can pass on to places unknown and--.

Theoric closed to the where it ended. A tear rolled down his cheek as he bowed in front of the rider. "Thank you, for this," said the saddened Dwarf.

He turned and walked into the inn, sobbing greatly, and everyone in that inn turned to him.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman barely noticed the dwarf as he came in, standing at the top of the stairs and peering down.

"Derufin?" She called.

A stream of curses came in reply. Aman felt almost relieved- he was alive, anyway. She started down the stairs slowly, not waiting even to grab the lantern from where it always sat behind the bar, and behind her a curious Silvanis following her. "Derufin, what's wrong?"

"I'm here!"

"Good Gods..." Aman ran over to where Derufin lay, as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The drinks machine- well, contraption- had fallen right over lower right leg. Quickly, she hastened to his side, grabbing one side of the machine, and nodding to Silvanis to grab the other. The man grudgingly assisted her in lifting off the machine, then quickly scooted from the cellar so as not to be asked to do anything else. Aman knelt beside Derufin's side as he sat up, rubbing at his ankle and wincing.

"Grief, Derufin, what happened?"

The stable man hesitated, and seemed about to speak, then shook his head slowly, then more strongly. "No...no, it was nothing, Aman. I just...slipped."

"You slipped?" Aman was doubtful and it showed in her voice. She knew how reliable and solid Derufin was, and greatly doubted he could have slipped just like that.

Derufin nodded forcefully. Too forcefully? "Yes, indeed Aman. I wasn't concentrating?"

Wasn't concentrating? Derufin?! Aman was about to speak again, to question the truth of Derufin's story, when she heard a noise behind her, and turned her head quickly, jumpy because of what she had heard when down in the cellar before. She searched the gloom with her eyes. "What is it?" Derufin asked in a low voice.

Aman hesitated, as he had before. Should she tell him? No, foolish thoughts- she was simply imagining things. She shook her head, as he had. "Nothing. I just thought I heard...no, its nothing."

Derufin contemplated the Innkeeper for a moment, his expression puzzled, then struggled to his feet, with the help of Aman. "Come, we'll get an ice pack on your leg." She supported him across the floor and up the stairs. It was only as they reached the common room and Cook began to fuss worriedly about Derufin that Aman realised the likeness of her denial to Derufins story...