The Green Dragon Inn - Part 5

[Mithadan]

All conversation ceased as a tall, black cloaked figure entered the Inn. He paused, then proceeded to the end of the bar, mail clinking beneath his cloak as he walked. Aman looked up as he passed and waved. "Hi Grrralph," she said without concern as she resumed her task of polishing the bar.

He pulled a scroll from beneath his cloak and tacked it to the wall, before turning and walking out without a word. All gathered waited for the door to close before rushing up to see the notice which had been posted. It read as follows:

"Greetings! The Moderators and staff of the Realms of Gondor, Rohan and The Shire have undertaken a review of the Rules governing the RPG Forums here at the Barrow-Downs. If you would like to offer a comment or observation or register a complaint (or even...gasp...make a compliment) please do so HERE. (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=21&t=000012) Thank you!"

[Elven Warrior]

Ainahithion, his grey hooded cloak wrapped about him to conceal the sword at his side, slowly opened the door of the Green Dragon Inn. As he stepped in, he removed his hood and shook his head from side to side a few times, revealing himself to be and Elf with long black hair and icy blue eyes. He glanced quickly from side to side, then walked smoothly and silently up to the bar and sat down.

"What'll it be, stranger?"said the bartender.

"Just an ale,"Ainahithion replied.

The bartender got a pint of ale and set it on the bar in front of Ainahithion. "If you don't mind my asking, where are you from and what brings you to the Shire?" the bartender asked.

Ainahithion didn't want to go into detail about his past, but replied, "I have no place which I call home. I'm sort of a wanderer, actually, and this is just the place I've wandered into today." This was somewhat true, though really he was running. He'd been accused of a crime he didn't commit, but had no way to prove his innnocence.

There was a silence and then the bartender left to serve another customer. Ainahithion sat quietly sipping his ale.

[Novnarwen]

Folw made his way up the staircases. The sound of the voices coming from the common room died away, after climbing the last stair. He breathed out, looking down getting all dizzy. "Many of them too," he muttered to himself letting his hands slid into his pockets, finding his key.

He walked slowly towards the direction of the room, feeling the doors get bigger and bigger. Was he imagining things? he thought, feeling a tiny tendency of pain in his head. Folw gazed at the door numbers, expecting every minute to find his door. The man stopped, took the key out of his pocket, and let it slid into the lock. He wroth the key swiftly around, and opened the door.

[ August 13, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

[Beren87]

Beren sat nearly motionless as the Innkeeper arrived, her subtle mockery of him causing a blush there wouldn't have been normally there, under mocking circumstances. He smiled softly at her, the action getting a warm response from the lovely woman, causing her to smile in return.

"Now surely, sir Beren, you wouldn't be smiling at our good Innkeeper like that." Vanwe's speech had a tone of evident sarcasm, as it said the incriminating sentence. Beren looked over, suddenly realising the private exchange wasn't so private. Somehow when the innkeeper was near, others just seem to dissapear into the dim darkness of the room's corners...

Well, his evident facination wasn't something he could easily hide, not with the rosy tint of his cheeks, anyway. "Ah..well, I would say she's...caught my eye, as it were." He winked the elf, causing her to laugh quite a lot louder than he would have expected. Evidently, the wine was causing even the elf to have a change of composure.

As he looked up again, still smiling he noticed the innkeepers smile fade softly, a look of disheartment in her eyes for the briefest second before she turned on, heading for Derufin. He looked oddly at her retreating form, wondering to himself why her demeanor had changed ever so slightly for the moment.

He continued chatting on with the overly happy elf until the door opened, reaveling another guest into the Inn, his dark form disturbing the soft light of the fire. The talk and hubbub died quickly as he shut the door.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman came out of the kitchen grinning, searching the room for Lira, the smile which Beren had made temporarily fade back with a vengeance. But the room seemed to have suddenly gone dark, the light seeming to have been absorbed into the complete darkness of the silhouette at the door.

The silhouette, after pausing for a dramatic moment, strode slowly in. Little hobbits around the room followed him, their eyes saucer-wide as he menacingly walked towards the bar. As he came towards her, Aman raised hand...and waves.

"Hi Grralph," she said unconcernedly. The dark individual inclined a head stiffly in her direction and proceeded to tack something to the common board. She glanced at it for a second, and nodded - she had already checked out the board. It might do others well to have an idea of what was going on though, and to have their say, whatever it might be.

With another stiff nodd, Grralph left the Inn - Aman didn't offer him a drink, knowing he wouldn't take one - and the light seemed to return, and with it the light atmosphere. The only one who didn't seem to have noticed it was Vanwe, who was still laughing delightedly. Aman sent an alarmed look at Derufin, then proceeded up the stairs to tell Lira the news that she could stay for as long as she liked, well, two weeks at least anyway, and that there were indeed a few jobs that needed doing.

As she came to Lira's room, Aman knocked softly on the door a few times, but didn't recieve a reply. Trying the door handle gently, she saw it was locked, and still there was no movement from within - Lira must be asleep. So, with a shrug, and the knowledge that she could tell her tomorrow, Aman went back down the stairs. If Derufin hadn't, Aman intended to remove the wine, or water it down. By force it necessary...

[littlemanpoet]

"An ale is 3 coppers, sir, but as you are here for a purpose, I think we can let that go unnoticed."

Now why did the Innkeeper do that? Falowik asked himself. What did she want in return? Everybody always wants things in return. As if being here for a purpose was enough reason. The Innkeeper was already walking away as his thoughts circled.

"Will the fare for food go unnoticed too? I doubt it." Falowik shifted his glance at the man called Derufin, the glass of ale still untouched. He liked a good ale but needed to keep his wits about him. Just sit and wait, old man, he said to himself, who was not old by any man's count of years, but when you're alone for as long as Falowik was, you take names to yourself, and start talking to all the selves you find lurking. Old man was one of them, a trusted fellow. Wise in the ways of the world, and of the dangers and difficulties of people. He'd been talking to the Old Man a good bit over the last few days. Sit and wait, old man, and see what this Derufin wants with you.

[Elora]

Everything was moving so quickly, it was difficult for Vanwe to discern it all. Confusion muddied her senses, and before she could sort out what one person had said, something else was happening.

When silence fell over the inn at the arrival of an idividual Vanwe did not quite catch, she breathed an inward sigh of relief. Maybe unwatered wine was not a good idea for one so unused to such things. Especially after a day's work in the sun. Vanwe pressed a hand to her brow and attempted to still the spinning. The conversation soon picked up and Vanwe was happy to let it continue on without her, before she said anything trully foolhardy.

The rate at which she was doing, she'd soon clamber onto the table and announce to the commonroom that if anyone saw fit to journey into the Haradwaithe and deliver her up to a small, forsaken village there, they would receive a handsome recompense. It was already bad enough she'd somehow flustered Beren, whom she had barely met. Aman had a certain stiffness to her too. Vanwe knew somehow she'd done something to cause that prickling feeling, but was not sure what.

She pushed her glass of watered wine away from her a little. It was best to settle down. She was not one to whirl about like she had been. Still, it had been nice to laugh. She liked the conspiratorial winks too, and the merry smiles. Something Beren had said about Aman bubbled up to the surface of her memory.

So Aman had caught Beren's eye. Vanwe could well understand why that was. What she wondered was if Aman knew of it. Oblivious to tidings of satchels and blood, Vanwe sat quietly with a serene smile on her face. She could not look like her mother than she did at that moment. Vanwe was not to know that, having never seen her mother. Others, who had, just may however.

Her eyes followed whomever spoke at the table, alert and interested though she remained judiciously silent. She lifted her glass absently to take another sip, thought better of it and put it down again. Her eyes strayed to the window, to what could be seen outside. It would be a beautiful sunset, she thought.

"Indeed it will," came a reply. Vanwe blinked, not realising she had spoken. Falco's companion nodded amicably at her in assent. Her smile was more measured, yet open and free. The buzz was fading, but the sensation of relxation was not.

[Imladris]

A bird of brilliant plumage pecked softly at a tree in the Old Forest, sending sprays of bark upon Lira's upturned, pale face. The knocking continued and continued... Lira stirred and struggled to become awake. She was not in the grim and dim Old Forest, but in the delightful room the Innkeeper had provided. Shaking the sleep from her eyes, Lira smoothed her green dress and peeked in the mirror. She usually tried to avoid mirrors, because it showed how unattractive she was, but it wouldn't do to look messy. Sighing softly, and remembering her mother, Lira suddenly realized that someone had been knocking on her door...that was what the "bird" was in her dream. She laughed softly to herself, unlocked the door, and drifted to the base of the stairs.

Lira roved the room, looking for Mistress Innkeeper, and saw that an elf was rather...tipsy. Lira smiled to herself at the sight -- she had never seen anything like it. Easing herself onto the banister of the stair, Lira slid effortlessly to the floor. The thrilling feeling of balancing precariously upon something thin and wooden reminded Lira of the days she had spent in the tops of the trees, being swayed back and forth by the wind, feeling as free as the birds of the sky.

Lira considered again asking the Innkeeper whether there was any work to be done...she had seemed a little distracted when she had first asked. Lira smiled to herself as she remembered the beautiful girl and the handsome man. Glancing around the room again, she saw Mistress Innkeeper beside the stablemaster's table and the drunken elf. Striding towards them, Lira asked musically, "Is there anything in need of being done, Mistress Innkeeper?"

[Envinyatar]

Derufin leaned back in his chair and took a sip of ale. Best not to drink too much of it, he reminded himself. There’s need to keep a clear head. Soon, Ruby brought round a platter with bowls of chicken stew thick with carrots and potatoes, and a small basket filled with fresh whole grain bread and a crock of butter and another of honey.

Falowik asked her how much he owed for this meal, counting the pennies in his head, but she waved him off saying Miz Aman would have her hide for collecting money from him. She leaned in closer to him to whisper something, then thinking better of it – He really does need a bath!, she stood near Derufin and pitched her voice low.

‘She’s from Rohan, you know,’ she said, nodding her head at the Innkeeper. ‘She thought it an honor to have poor Mister Eodwine at the Inn. What with him being from the Kings and all . . .’ She noted Miz Aman had glanced her way, and raised her voice as if finishing with their orders. ‘And will there be anything else?’ she said, curtsying to both of them. Derufin smiled, and glanced to the table where Vanwe sat.

‘Give me that that last bowl of stew, Ruby,’ he said, plucking a napkin from her and carefully draping it over his arm. A spoon followed, and he placed it securely in his upper vest pocket. Grabbing two pieces of bread, he spread them thinly with butter and thickly with honey and laid them on one of the small plates Ruby had brought out for the meal. The bowl held securely in one hand, the plate of bread in the other, he crossed the short distance to the Elf, winking at her as she watched him approach.

‘Your meal, m’lady,’ said with a slight bow, as he placed the stew in front of her accompanied by the plate of honeyed bread. With a flourish, he presented her the spoon, then deftly placed the napkin on her lap. ‘Eat a little,’ he whispered to her as he leaned in near to pour her a cool cup of water. ‘It will lessen the effects of the wine you’ve drunk.’ He pushed the cup toward her on the table, his fingers touching hers lightly as she reached for it.

‘Come and get me when you’ve finished, if you will. It’s a fair evening, promising to be a fairer night. We’ll walk a little in the Inn yard. Should clear our heads of wine and pipeweed smoke.’ He saluted her and returned to his table.

‘Well, Master Stonewort,’ said Derufin, settling back in to his chair. ‘Eodwine – the man whose satchel and harp you found, was my roommate for the short time he was here. A pleasant man, and not one it seemed to go looking for trouble.’ He paused for a moment, absent mindedly stirring his stew with his spoon. ‘But trouble it seemed went looking for him and found the poor sod.’ He looked up into the blue eyes of his dinner companion. ‘Where exactly did you find the satchel, Falowik? And what did it look like had happened - that it should be left there in that state.’ He poured his companion another cup of ale from the pitcher Buttercup had brought by, then topped off his own scantly drunk cup as he awaited the man’s story.

His mind drifted to the note he had found in Eodwine’s room when he cleaned it up for Beren. A scrap of paper, really, not a full fledged note. Bearing two hastily scrawled words. A reminder, of sorts, tucked away in the drawer of the small night table next to his bed. Scrawled on the torn off corner of a crudely drawn map of the northwestern section of Eriador. The sort of map one might draw for oneself of an interesting place one intended to visit . . .

[Elora]

Vanwe visibly brightened as she noted Derufin approach, her gaze alighting on the honeyed bread he carried with him. Honey, how she adored it. It was of the first pleasant discoveries she had made in this place, and certainly was not the last.

With a wink, he grandly set a bowl of stew down with the honey. The napking fluttered into her lap and she wrapped her hands gratefully around the water. After his insistance on references to ladies, Vanwe gave up on correcting the matter. Instead she smiled up at him.

"Thank you m'Lord. I think I will indeed. The stars will be bright this night," she added, noting the quirk at her reference to lords. Derufin nodded and she watched him head back across the room. She turned back to the meal in front of her. Then she recalled something.

"I'm really not a lady," she confided in Beren. It was, perhaps, an unnecessary clarification. Realising that he was without food, and she was amply provided for, Vanwe came to another conclusion. It was not difficult. Where she hailed from, she did not eat until all others had. She pushed forward the bread.

"Would you like some bread? The honey is simply exquisite," she offered with a smile. "Or perhaps some stew. I can fetch another spoon if you wish." Just as she had resembled her mother in appearance, she now was vastly changed. Such a simple act of generosity would be unthought of. Beren glanced at the food.

"Really, I do not eat so very much," she reassured," But you will need to be careful the Cook doesn't see. She'll have my hide if she thinks I'm shirking my meals." Vanwe's voice had lowered to a mock conspiratorial level and she dared an impish wink. Realising that it would be just her luck for the formidible and redoubtable Mrs Bunce to be standing over her shoulder, arms crossed and foot tapping, Vanwe instinctively looked up to see if righteous disapproval was descending upon her head.

It was not. When she looked back, a piece of bread was missing and Beren wore a curious smile. Vanwe blinked and then shook her head as she laughed.

"One piece of bread can't be enough. It will not take me long to fetch another spoon." She pushed up from the table, ignoring the subtle lurch of the room with her sudden change in position. Before a word could be said, Vanwe was on the move. Derufin watched her move past the bar. SHe mouthed Beren's name at him and continued on to the kitchens.

Ruby looked up at her as she entered.

"What is it Vanwe, missed lunch again?" Ruby's smile faded Vanwe's protest of innocence. Mrs Bunce, though, looked sharply around. The mention of Vanwe and missed meals always earnt her attention.

"What can I help you with," Cook asked in a voice that said it had better not be with missed meals.

"I came for a spoon for Beren," Vanwe replied, relieved that she had another reason.

"He's the Man at your table," Ruby stated.
"Yes," Vanwe confirmed.
"What's he going to use the spoon for," Ruby asked. "He had no bowl. Will he bend it? I've seen magicians who can bend spoons just by thinking about it." Ruby's eyes were alight.

"There will be no damaging of my cutlery," Mrs Bunce interjected.
"He won't be bending it. He'll be eating with it," Vanwe amended quickly.
"Thin air?"

Vanwe paused, recognising possibly risky territory ahead. "Stew," she cautiously replied.

"Then you had best bring him some of that too," Cook sternly said
"Of course."

Vanwe received the additional bowl of stew and spoon and made a bid to leave the kitchen before she could lumber into any other difficult situations. Ruby got to the door before her.

"I think Beren is taken with Aman," Ruby whispered secretively. Vanwe smiled back at her as she followed Ruby through the kitchen door.

"I think so too, Ruby," Vanwe said. Both exchanged a grin and then hurried on their ways. Vanwe made it back to the table with the bowl of stew steaming in her hands.

"Here you go, with Cook's best wishes," Vanwe said as she passed it to him. Beren looked relieved that unwatered wine had not caused his meal to go flying out of Vanwe's hands as she negotiated the crowded commonroom.

"And Ruby's too," Vanwe added on a whim, "Aman's friend," she further elaborated. Beren's face acquired that glow again and he studied the bowl in front of him. Vanwe, pleased with herself in general, set about eating. The promise of a walk in the cooler evening was more than appealing. A fair night it would indeed be.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen had been caught deep in thought not noticing Lira's leave then return but to go ask the innkeeper Aman if any assistance was needed in the safekeeping of the inn. For Lira and Esgallhugwen would be more then willing to help if there was any need. Morlathion sat beside her trying to clean his garment of spilled ale as Reynion slightly snickered.

More people moved in and out of the Inn but she heeded them not although one man caught her attention. He was dirty and quite dishevaled looking with a slight reek that wafted through the stuffy inn air.

All the sounds around her seemed distant, the orc inflicked wound across her back began to ache. No poison, the wound is clean but it wasn't the actual wound that was causing the burning sensation. Esgallhugwen's hand reached up behind her to feel that her back was burning and that the heat only seemed to inflick more pain.

she found it difficult to breath but tried to retain her composure and not gasp out for air. She tried to breath normally, but her heart only slowed and pounded profusely in her chest.

Esgallhugwen's vision blurred, the heat and pain spread throughout all her limbs. She reached out for the counters edge to steady herself but she didn't react fast enough. A spark of wrathful flame ignited in her eyes, her pupils constricted before the spark went out her eyes becoming dull before they closed as her head rolled back.

A small gasp escaped her lips Sky is covered in a ghostly haze... Sun blushes pink on the horizon, ashes fall from the heavens.
The fires have swept through devouring.

She fell to the ground unconscious, her head barely missing the pointed corner of the table behind her. Esgallhugwen landed rather hard on her back, her body was struck with sudden coldness. The warmth and slight pink hue of her lips faded. A knotted pendant rolled out of her shirt, glowing faintly on it's silver chain.

Lira sensed immediatly that something was wrong and rushed over beside her. Morsereg, Esgallhugwen's black steed neighed feircly startling the other horses. He stomped his hoofs wildly kicking in the air, clouds of thick dust rose around him like a whirlwind.

All this commoton caused quite a stir and many of the tenants were stricken with fear at the fall of the Elf and the horrible noises outside coming from the stables.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Reynion watched Morlathion with ill-concealed amusement. It seemed that the youngster couldn't even drink without hurting himself or his clothing. It felt good to laugh, even though he felt a bit guilty that another was the source of his amusement.

Beside him, Esgallahugwen was shifting in her chair, reaching around to her back and grimacing. Then she started to breathe a little faster, as if trying to keep in sounds of pain. She gasped--and fell over. The quiet of the Inn was broken as Lira rushed to her friend and Aman began giving orders for herbs and hot water.

Reynion sat in shock, memories upon memories of wounded elves intruding into his mind.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman was about to answer Lira when a small, pained, murmering gasp came from somewhere to her left, following, as Aman turned quickly, but the sickening sound of bone hitting the floor. The Innkeeper found the origin in a split second - an elven woman lying on the floor, apparently unconcious. After a second her eyes widened quickly, becoming as big as saucers, and once more she gasped, a terrible, desperate gasp for life-giving air.

By this time both Aman and Lira were at her side, Lira calling the name 'Esgalhugwen' at the prostrate woman, holding her hand. Aman lifted the woman's head from the ground onto her lap, lowering her head and listening to the woman's breath. She seemed to have momentarily stopped breathing. Aman swore silently, then turned to Vanwe. "Vanwe, we need herbs and water."

The elf nodded quickly, shaken and now sobered up, and stumbled off to the kitchen. Lira continued to call the elf's name, tears now rolling from her eyes as she held her hand desperately, but the one of the men who was with Esgalhugwen, as she was called, seemed frozen in a daze, simply staring at the elven girl, horror in his eyes. Aman was about to try to wake him from his reverie, to ask what happened, before a terrible noise broke out from the stables - the sound of a horse trying to break out from it's stable. Aman cursed again inwardly - perfect timing, just perfect. She would have liked to go herself, as her skills with horses were extensive, but she knew she had to stay. She shot a look at Derufin, and the man nodded - he was already on his feet, knocking over the chair behind him as he raced out towards the stables.

Beren stood behind Aman, anxiety on his face. "What happened?"

Aman shook her head, signalling that she didn't know, her eyes still on the girl.

"Anything I can do to help?"

Aman turned to look up at him. "Have you any experience with horses?"

"Er...a little?"

"Then go, Derufin will need your help by the sound of it." She looked back at the girl again. Beren wavered for a moment, seemingly about to say more, and when Aman looked at him, exasperated despite herself, he made up his mind. He bent towards her, his lips almost touching her ear, her hair tickling his cheek.

"Watch out for that stranger," He whispered, before racing out the door after Derufin. Aman paused, but, knowing it would be too obvious, did not look at the scruffy man. What was Beren talking about?

Vanwe came out of the kitchen with the herbs and water, as quickly as she could without spilling them. On her lap, the white-faced girl seemed to be saying something, her eyes still scarily wide, her blue lips moving quickly. Aman brushed her hair behind her ear and bent low over Esgalhuhwen's face again, and listened.

"The wound is clean...but fires devour...everything...." The last word came as a sigh, and the whole sentence had been too quiet for any but the Innkeeper to hear. Aman stared at the elf again, then noticed how her necklace was glowing. These cryptic words, a horse suddenly causing a racket, this glowing, eerie necklace....something here wasn't quite natural.

Aman did not have time to muse as Vanwe knelt beside her, laying out the herbs, and Aman was back in business form again, pushing aside the fears of something less ordinary...

[theWhiteLady]

Post for Dyrnwyn, Sword of Flame:

Noises from the inn filtered through the door, but the tall captain did not heed them. His eyes were reflective and his thoughts wandered to and fro. Perhaps they rested upon his travels or his beautiful home, Minas Tirith. The thoughts were soon broken, however, by some unseen disturbance, and his eyes snapped back to the present, quickly regaining clarity. He was tired, many days of travel had taken their toll, and he once again felt the need to seek his room.

Caligon set off to the stables where he was greeted by a silver-grey stallion. He stroked the horse’s neck affectionately, observing with approval that the horse had been brushed down and water was available in abundance. Several packs had been leaned against the stable wall; the captain hoisted them over his shoulder and prepared to leave through the door. A loud scream checked his progress, making him whirl around with surprise. One of the horses, a black one stabled on the other side of the barn, had started kicking and neighing frantically. Caligon stopped, uncertain, but before he could make up his mind to help, another man rushed through a near door and tried to calm the frightened horse. Turning, Caligon reasoned that the man seemed an experienced horseman and had not seemed to notice his presence. He walked quickly through the doorway and back towards the inn.

Inside, however, there was even more disturbance but too many people had pressed around one of the tables for him to see the cause. “What a strange place,” he thought once more and was again aware of his fatigue. There were enough observers to help, he would only be in the way, and so once more Caligon left the situation to others in order to seek his room.

[Elora]

Aman sorted through the herbs Vanwe had gathered at speed from the kitchen, not staying to answer the questions of Mrs Bunce or Buttercup or Ruby. As Aman efficently searched, Vanwe bent over the fallen Elf and silently cursed her fogged senses. It would be easier had she a clear head. Herbs could not be administered until they were was certain what ailed the Elf, and that was the subject of much conjecture.

A crowd gathered, Vanwe dreading each and every face that clustered to watch. The would be no privacy this time. She closed her eyes, bending over and the sight of the crowd and Aman faded as she struggled with her unschooled abilities. The latent heat of the pendant seared her, and Vanwe gasped at it.

An old wound twisted, a remembered pain, a dislocated pain. It made no sense, Vanwe inwardly cried. Damn that wine! Distantly Aman's voice floated to her. "What are you doing?"

Vanwe made no reply as she struggled on. A pain that was here and was not. It was familiar, somehow. It had a character and edge that reminded her of something. It had a scent she could detect that she had found before. It also reminded her of Lespheria, whose pain came from what she sensed from afar.

Aman, who saw only that Vanwe was suspended over the unconscious Elf, silent and unresponsive, pulled at her shoulder and repeated herself more forcefully. "Vanwe, what are you doing?"

"Power," Vanwe mumbled through distant lips. "Healing."

The searing heat of the pendant was branded upon her senses. It burned, surely it did. She was tumbling suddenly, falling into an inky abyss, the pendant glowing like a coal below her. Her senses fell apart, shattering like glass on a tiled floor, scattered and broken shards of realisation.

"Vanwe!"

Aman's sharp voice was like a rope to cling to. Vanwe clambered back, clawing her way from it. She realised dimly that Aman was pulling her away. Sagging back, now oblivious to the gathered crowd, Aman pulled closer with the herbs she had selected.

"Use sage," Vanwe said faintly. It had worked with Lespheria.
"I am," replied Aman brusquely.
"And Calendula," Vanwe said as she tried to gather her wits.

"I don't have any," muttered Aman as she steeped the herbs in the warm water, infusing their qualities of healing.

Vanwe fumbled at the pouch at her waist. Apart from the braided leather, which now lay forgotten on the table, it held two now somewhat wilted sprigs. She pulled them out, scenting them to be sure they were still useable, and passed them to Aman.

"Here. There is also what you call Kingsfoil."

Aman took the offered herbs, peering into Vanwe's pale face a moment. Then, she turned away and added them to her infusion. With gentle surety, she lifted the Elf's head and trickled some of the infusion through her lips. Aman waited, then gave her more. The murmuring of the crowd at the unusual display buzzed around Vanwe, threatening to swallow her whole.

"The herbs should dull the pain without clouding her senses," Vanwe said as Aman fed the Elf the infusion. "I've used it before."

"What ails her," Aman asked. Vanwe shook her head and then regretted it. The floor tilted crazily.

"An old wound, and that pendant.... she is pained by something she senses from afar... I cannot properly tell. I am not schooled enough."

Aman fell silent, mulling Vanwe's words and slowly trickling the warm infusion. Vanwe frowned before adding, "I am sorry I cannot do more."

A querrulous voice chimed in from the crowd. "All I saw was chicanery! It's a show!" Debate ensued from there. Vanwe leant against the panelling of the counter to steady herself in the rising noise. Driven by the mayhem that threatened to envelope her utterly, she said in a loud voice made firm by her desperation, "Silence!"

The crowd was shocked. So was Vanwe. She moderated her tone somewhat, the ring of order and authority foreign to her.

"It is no show. Please, return to your seats and give the Elf some peace."

Mrs Bunce clapped her hands. "You heard her!" Authority was something she was accustomed to. She shooed the audience away, breaking them up and leaving them no recourse but to return to their tables. Ruby and Buttercup milled around, ensuring it was so.

"She needs a bed, not an inn floor," Cook observed as she peered at the Elf Aman knelt beside. Two gentlemen offered their services to see it done. Ruby peered at Vanwe.

"What's wrong with you? Is it contagious?" Vanwe again shook her head somewhat violently.

"Well something's gotten into you!" Ruby was not to be put off. Vanwe sighed and made an experimental attempt to stand. If nothing else, it would put paid to Ruby's innate curiosity. Aman had followed the Elf, as had some of her companions in an anxious knot. Surprised that her experiment was a success, Vanwe waved Ruby away. SHe only tottered marginally with that action.

"I'm fine... just some fresh air is all," she murmured.
"You don't look fine," Ruby persisted stubbornly.
"She doesn't, does she Mrs Bunce?"

Vanwe groaned quietly and turned for the door in a bid for freedome. Cook crossed her arms and studied the Elf's tenuous movements/

No," she pronounced, "she does not. Where do you think you're going, Miss," she called after Vanwe as she tried for the door.

"Outside!"

Vanwe's relief at making the porch of the inn was in her sigh. The scent she had detected came with her. It was familiar. She struggled down the steps, the bedlam of the stables carrying to her. The white hitching post proved a convenient crutch. She leant against it as she struggled to make sense of it all. Where had she smelt it before?

Vanwe felt clammy. Her head was filled with light. The pendant glowed every time she blinked, branded onto her eyelids it seemed. Her knees seemed treacherous and her arms heavy. Leaning heavily, cheek pressed against a winking green dragon, Vanwe closed her eyes.

She held her breath, the trembling stilling, as she made the connection. The man! It was his scent, somehow mixed in with it all. She did not know what this meant, but it was important. She should tell someone. Where was the man that Falco had so mistrusted anyway?

Vanwe unpeeled her fingers from where they clutched the post and focused all her might on placing one foot in front of the other. She focused on the stable. She would tell Derufin. Aman was busy. She trusted Derufin. As she neared, she heard the shout of instructions swapped between Derufin and Beren.

Vanwe appeared in the doorway and beheld the disorder that the two men were struggling to overcome. In the stalls closest to her, horses rolled their eyes, the whites wildly showing. They shifted, snorting as their ears swivelled. Panic was in the air. Vanwe could taste it.

She made for the closest stall, partly to hold herself up. The horse shied away. On a sudden idea, Vanwe started to sing the gentle melody she sang every morning in the stables. Her voice was faint and weak, and barely heard by Derufin and Beren who grimly held onto rearing horses deeper in the stables.

But for those horses near to Vanwe, who strained to hear everything in the fear, her voice carried to them. It was familiar, soothing and recognisable. The panic fell slowly from them. Vanwe continued to sing, hoping the tiny seed of calm would grow and find it's way further into the stable.

She held onto the stall, feeling a little stronger and firmer as the moments wheeled past. Her mind was filled with two things. The man, whom she did not know his whereabouts in the chaos, and the glowing pendant that was there, everytime she blinked.

[Beren87]

The thought of his words to Aman in his mind, Beren raced towards the stables, as fast as his feet could carry him. He heard the neighing of the animals inside, their sounds an earsplitting, horrendous call of horror. The shrill of a horse in fear is worse than any a man could ever muster.

He slid on the slick grass as his body stopped itself, arriving at the door. His eyes darted back and forth, gathering the situation quickly. Derufin stood at the edge of one stall, his grip on one horse will calmy speaking to another. His touch seemed to have calmed the now silent equine, but his voice was doing nothing to combat the fear of the other.

Beren quickly ran up, his feet pounding the stable ground, until he was at the next stall. He reached his hand out onto the horse, just as it reared it's head to kick. He looked into it's eyes fiercly as it's leaned back. He bent all thought towards the creature, willing it to calm, his gentle touch seemingly radiated peacefulness into the animal, it's tense muscles slowly relaxing under his hand.

"What on earth has done this to them?" He called out to Derufin who, having calmed his original target, had moved on to a stall farther down the row.

Silent for the moment, he struggled with the new animal, willing it to calm as the first one had. He then looked over at Beren, ready to answer.

[ August 14, 2003: Message edited by: Beren87 ]

[piosenniel]

No magical or magical implements or jewelry are allowed in the Shire games or the Inn.

For all who mentioned the pendant in their posts, please do not continue to do so.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ August 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Esgallhugwen]

Morsereg snorted sharply as the men came toward him, but in hearing the sweet yet soft sound of an Elf singing he calmed down slightly. He whinnied still shaken looking around for his master Esgallhugwen.

She lay on the floor; steaming liquid pouring down her throat, Esgallhugwen felt a presence searching her, searching inside of her but as soon as it had come it was quickly pushed out by another outside.

Esgallhugwen could make out muffled noises but could barely open her eyes, she thought she heard her name but it faded away into shadows much like everything else in her life. She gave a small cry between the infusions of the liquid as if calling out for someone.

Smooth warmth flowed through her allowing her senses to become more awake though her body remained motionless. Esgallhugwen's body was lifted up off the floor but she could not feel it her body was numb and still cold to the touch.

She saw a distant light ahead of her she longed to follow it but felt pinned by an unseen force, all around her it was dark, pitch dark it swallowed light. Clanking of chains was heard then sharp steel slashing through skin. Esgallhugwen longed to be free she screamed out horrendously in the dark.

The pale light drew nearer powerful Elvish voices were heard echoeing, and the torture was ceased by the flight of an arrow shaft by her ear ending with the squeal of the now dead orc behind her. The shackles were wrested from her wrists and ankles.

She had been tortured long in pitch blackness, with no sound but the whips or steel to give her company. Her father had betrayed her for the last time, he had found out what Esgallhugwen and her mother had tried to do, they had tried to save their people by aiding them in their escape.

Earlier her Mother was found, but the punishment was too prolonged, her body failed and fell silently to the ceasless cracking of cruel whips. They carried her and her mothers body out singing in victorious woe. She now lays there on a mound upon the hill.

[littlemanpoet]

The Elf woman called Vanwe distracted Falowik. She had drunk too much and her face was flushed with wine. Falowik was no student of people, but something in her moved him. Which he would never show if he knew what was good for him. He did not have the awe of Elves that plagued many Hobbits and other Men, so he watched her when he could steal a look. Her eyes told him that she remained deep within herself and let little of herself come to the fore. Except that the wine had loosened her, dangerously. He would protect her from herself if he had the right, of the foolhardiness, but it was no affair of his.

"It will be a beautiful sunset," she declared.

"Indeed it will," said Falowik. The words were out before he could stop them. She blinked. Falowik nodded with all the courtesy he could muster, trying to tell her with his eyes to take care for people are dangerous. Her returning smile seemed to say that she understood.

The Hobbit lass came and said it was a matter of honor with the Innkeeper from Rohan that Falowik eat for free. It made no sense. Honor? Honor was a mask hiding vengeance or worse. Still, he was hungry and thirsty. Maybe a few sips of the ale with the bowl of stew. It gave off a smell fit for a king's feast. As he ate, Derufin came to his point.

‘Where exactly did you find the satchel, Falowik? And what did it look like had happened - that it should be left there in that state.’ Derufin poured Falowik some more ale, even though the first cup was still almost full. Now to it. There's the payment this man's after. This Eodwine was his friend and he wants a story. It had better be good. Well, it'll be what was there whether he likes it or not. Falowik chose his words with care and described what he had seen. It was a place of hill and scrub and large rocks, and no path for horse or man except what one makes for oneself. The ground was covered in hoof prints and foot prints. Blood stained one rock and a broken knife lay near it. Off a few feet away had been the satchel.

"That is all that I know, Master Derufin."
The sound of a body falling to the floor distracted the two men. Derufin got up to help. In moments, the common room was ablur with people busy at caring for the collapsed woman, or asking questions they had no right to have answered. It was a dangerous moment. Suddenly horses screamed in the stables. Worse and worse. Falowik was safely at table and could not be suspected for any of the trouble, but he did not like the noise and chaos. He finished the last of the stew, took another gulp of ale, leaving most of it behind, and went out into the road. He needed to be away from people and trouble. The sun was lowering in the sky. He made for the west edge of town and found a lonely tree to sit beneath. He would wait until things died down. Maybe wait until someone, Derufin or that distrustful Hobbit, came looking.

[ August 14, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Envinyatar]

There were eight horses and four ponies to be seen to that night. All fractious, their ears plastered back against their heads, eyes wide and rolling. Beren saw to two of the guests’ horses, his slow approach and gentle words bringing down the heightened level of anxiety that whipped their nerves. They bobbed their great heads at him on their arched necks and attended to every word, the rhythm of his voice drawing their attention away from the source of the panic.

It was the Elf’s horse, Morsereg, which Derufin decided had been the focus of the chaos. Attuned to her thoughts, as Elven horses are, he had picked up the frenzy of the Elven woman’s dark flow of images and remembrances. The scent of his fear and the agitation in his whinnies was the spark that set the others on edge. Vanwe, seated near Mosereg’s stall had calmed him with her soft song and probably, thought the stable-master, her own gentle stream of thoughts. As Morsereg calmed, the others did also. Nettle the Inn’s own little Shire pony nickered contentedly as Vanwe sang, and his three stall mates crowded near him, borrowing his peaceful mood.

Once Derufin had seen to the two horses he had talked down from their wild state, he handed the leads to Beren and strode quickly to the end stall, the one nearest his quarters - Falmar’s stall. The steed of another Elven woman, she too would be affected by the prostrate Elf’s unchecked thoughts. And indeed she had been so. Her stall’s half door had been kicked open in Falmar’s hurry to escape the frightening thoughts, and she had bolted from the stable, seeking to put distance between herself and danger . . . seeking her own mistress.

Vanwe and Beren were beginning to settle the horses back into their stalls. The usual air of calm was returning to the stable. Just as Beren was returning the chestnut charger to his stall, Derufin stepped up and took the lead from him, saying that he would need him to go after Falmar. The blanket and saddle were quickly put on Eodwine’s steed, and Derufin mounted up and was out the door of the stable, heading west as he left the Inn yard, down the Great East Road.

Under a tree at the western edge of Bywater, the light of the moon just picking him out in the shadows, sat Falowik, unseen by Derufin as he raced past . . .

[ August 15, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman came back down the stairs, sighing. It had been around fifteen minutes since the girl went up the stairs, and the Esgalhugwen seemed to have calmed down, her breathing levelling out and her muttering stopping eventually, whether due to the herbs Vanwe and Aman had used or not. In the Inn, all around people seemed to be talking in low voices about the whole event, but things had calmed down....inside, at least.

Aman winced as the sound of a splintering door made everyone in the room look up - a familiar sound the one who had all too often had to deal with the highly-strung steeds of flighty messengers. But it was followed by another slamming, splintering sound as the horse's hooves hit it again - audible even in the Inn. Aman closed her eyes for a second, her hand half way through running through her hair, which she had let down, before she ran outside towards the stables. As she was almost there, she heard a final almighty neighing, then the sound of the door giving up and its hinges breaking, and swift hooves running first over wood, then stone, then cobbles. As Aman turned the corner, she saw a second horse race from the stables, a rider crouched low over it's back - Eodwine's horse, by the looks of it, and Derufin the rider.

Not slowing, Aman turned into the stables, glad now that she was wearing a tunic still, and wasn't hampered by her usual skirts, and almost ran straight into Beren. Stepping back hastily, Aman gestured out after Derufin. "What's happened?"

"One of the horses has escaped - an elven steed, and therefore-"

"-attuned to it's mistress or master." Aman finished. "I understand - I used to be a horse trainer in Rohan," she explained at his questioning gaze. "More and more elven horses came through as time passed - I've never really got used to it."

"Mmm," Beren agreed, then seemed about to say more, when two more of the horses at the back began to kick up a fuss again, their now-stretched nerves probably sent twanging by a new prescence in the stables. Walking quickly, but careful not to run, Aman made her way down to them, picking the most agitated of the pair - a bay mare, one of the most beautiful horses she had ever seen, dancing around her stable, tossing her head and snorting, rearing up a few times, her hooves flailing. Aware of the obvious danger, Aman did not come into the stable straight away, but did lift the bolt with one hand, while still approaching slowly, holding up her other hand (her right hand), palm towards the horse, but not tense. She made a small shh-ing noise between her teeth as she came nearer and the horse, her attention caught, stopped prancing around so much.

Easing up the latch and slipping through the door, careful not to make any sudden movements, Aman kept her eyes on the horse all the time, still making the small noise, like wind through the trees, and then beginning to murmer - not the complete nothings of most horse-owners, but normal talk, beginning to tell the horse what had happened as if she was a human or elf, but quietly, so quietly, her voice smooth and calm. As she came closer, the horse kept snorting and moved back a few steps, so Aman stopped, but her voice didn't. Consistency, as she had found at Rohan whilst training and stabling horses, is something that an animal can lean on, can trust, and trust is the key. Hand still up in front of her, still murmering, Aman simply watched the horse, her head slightly to one side, and, after a few dubious seconds, the mare lowered her head slightly. Still moving slowly, Aman lowered her hand onto the horse's nose as it was presented to her, stroking the soft, silky fur, then moved her other hand up to the horses neck, rubbing softly and rhythmically on the long, arched neck. And, as she stood close to this magnificent animal, Aman remembered all the satisfaction she had always had doing this and, suddenly, dangerously, the practical, steadfast Innkeeper remembered her old home, her first home, in the land of the Rohirrim.

[Imladris]

Lira followed the men who bore Esgallhugwen up the stairs in a daze. Never before has she seen such a terrible illness come over anyone. Folding the woman's hand within her own, Lira began to murmur in soft Elvish to Esgallhugwen. Lira knew the calming effect of her voice...many times she had sang to the dying to ease their pain and fear. She remembered her dying love, how even he had asked to hear her voice as he passed out of this world under the mighty trees of Mirkwood.

Little by litte the trembling that vibrated Esgallhugwen's diminished, until it had finally ceased. Smoothing her auburn hair from her damp forehead, Lira was relieved to feel that the fever had somewhat diminished. She breathed slowly, deeply, as if she was in a deep sleep, and Lira rose to leave when she heard turmoil erupt in the stables. Swinging herself onto the wooden banishter, she slid down and flew out the inn to help with the horses when she saw the Mirstress Innkeeper, slowly, assuredly, calming the wild steed. Lira's deep blue eyes widened in surprise and awe. The wind blue her strands of white streaked pale yellow hair into Lira's eyes, and she pushed it away in slight irritation. The love the Innkeeper had for horses showed in every gesture, every murmured word. The horse's taut muscles relaxed, his dark eyes ceased their wild roving, his muzzled dipped and nuzzled the woman's hand affectionately.

Lira smiled as she gazed upon the happy scene, but then she felt a sense a longing, a wistful remebrance of a home far away in the Innkeeper. A shrill whinny came to her ears, and Lira recognized it as the cry of her own mare, and Lira whinnied back. Softly, she made her way to the Innkeeper and asked, "That was beautiful. Never before have I seen a mortal man who was not a Ranger calm such a distraught beast."

[Nurumaiel]

From outside the door of the Green Dragon a loud, high-pitched voice could be heard screeching angrily. The door burst open and a young hobbit lad marched into the inn, followed by a red-faced lass, obviously the one who was screaming. Though many eyes were on them, the lass did not cease her screaming until, in humiliated desperation, the lad clamped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened and she glared furiously at him, but he didn't release her.

"Melilot, please be quiet," he said. "Or, even better, please go away. I came here to be alone for once."

The captive tried to say something, but still he wouldn't let her go until she had promised to stop her screeching. Then she said a low voice, yet not without all her previous anger, "Hamson Cotton, I will not leave until you answer my question."

"Then the answer is no," the lad replied firmly. "Or will you continue to pester me until I say yes?" He took her arm and led her over to an empty table. "Maybe you'd care to sit down and discuss this calmly," he said, gesturing towards the bench. With great reluctance, she obeyed. He took a seat opposite her, and for a moment they just stared at each other.

His Sackville-Baggins cousins had always been out to ruin his life, or at least that's how it appeared. The way they ordered him around sometimes you would think he was their slave. And Melilot was the worst. She was rather an attractive lass, with black hair and blue eyes, and though she found her freckles a serious flaw to her beauty, everyone else liked them. Her prettiness made her think she could convince any hobbit lad to do anything she wanted him to. And now she was after Hamson Cotton's hole.

Of course he wouldn't go live in it until he was 33, and he was only in his mid-tweens yet, but his parents were rather wealthy and had two holes. One in Bywater and one in Buckland. The one if Bywater was the simpler of the two, and the Cotton parents preferred it. Before they had gained their wealth they had been middle-class hobbits, and they felt more at home in the Bywater hole. The Buckland hole, however, was a different story. It was extremely elaborate, fit for the wealthiest of hobbits. Hamson never heard the story of how his parents had gained the expensive hole, but they had, and he was to own it when he came of age.

So, of course, Melilot had to have it. It was expensive, very elegant... in fact it had all the qualities that she appreciated. She was quite determined to get the hole from Hamson, whether he liked it or not. He didn't like it. He would have been quite content to sell it and buy some other simpler hole, but because his parents and probably done a lot to get the hole for him, and because Melilot was so dead-set on owning it herself, he was also determined. Nobody besides his family would ever own the hole, not even if they killed him for it.

A few minutes ago Hamson had had a few concerns that Melilot was going to do just that. She had waylaid him while he was on the way to the inn, demanding angrily once again for ownership of the hole (as if she had any right to it at all!). At first he had ignored her, but then as she followed him, insisting for an answer, he had told her no. That made her fly into a rage, though she had pretended she hadn't heard him. She had shouted angrily at him all the way to the inn. He thought he could escape there. He had thought she would consider herself to elegant to enter an inn. But she was in such a rage that all of those thoughts left her, and still she pursued him.

And so now she sat before him, her cheeks still flushed in anger, her eyes shooting sparks at him, her hands clenched tight on the table where they rested. How could he possibly make her understand that he would not sell the hole? He could ignore her, but not for long. She would keep following him wherever he went, screeching at him, and he was convinced he couldn't take that for very long without going insane. Then he'd be locked up and Melilot could take over the hole easily. The whole matter was so childish, but Melilot didn't care, so therefore Hamson didn't care. He'd act childishly to defend his hole as long as she acted childishly to get it.

"Well, did you want to say something?" the lass demanded. "Or is your silence a way of telling me you give in to my demands?" She smiled and him in a superior way, then added casually, "Really, Hamson, you should give up. I am going to win in the end."

He didn't answer. He was used to her saying things like that. At first it had annoyed, but now he didn't care at all. Let her talk. She knew very well he would win and no other.

"Hamson, listen," she said, the anger leaving her voice and a honey-sweet tone replacing it. "If you let me have the hole, I'll buy one just as nice for you. What's the difference between one hole and another?"

"It won't be as nice, otherwise you could buy the other hole for yourself," Hamson said with a little shake of his head. "And the difference is that one hole means nothing to me and the other is mine. Melilot Sackville-Baggins, you just listen to me for one moment. I'm not going to tell you again. I am not selling that hole, ever. Maybe you'll get it someday if you outlive me (which I highly doubt), but while I'm alive, I own the hole and no one else."

Melilot rolled her eyes and then turned a desperate look towards a hobbit sitting on the table behind her, who blushed and got up, walking to the bar. Hamson didn't care a bit if anyone listened in. Let all of the Shire know that Melilot was a little brat who was trying to take what wasn't hers. He didn't care. Maybe they'd all rise in rebellion and drive her out of the Shire. He grinned suddenly. It was an amusing thought.

Melilot stood up. "I'm going to get a drink," she said. "Don't try to run away while I'm going, because I'll be watching you the whole time. Maybe you should have a drink too... something that will wake up your brain." She pressed her hands down on the table and leaned forward, looking him straight in the eye. "Give up, Hamson," she said. "It's only sensible." Then she walked away.

Hamson watched her as she made her way to the bar, smiling innocently at everyone. If she weren't a lady he would like to give her a sound punch in the nose. Maybe that would wake up her brain. Yes, she was watching him. He couldn't possibly escape. And even if he did, she'd find him again eventually. How would he ever show her that he was just as serious as she was, that it was only sensible for her to give up? Propping his chin onto his hands, he began to ponder this.

Soon Melilot returned, a drink in hand. She took her former seat and watched Hamson thinking. Not a very handsome hobbit. He had freckles all over his face. He was rather smart, but naturally not as smart as her. Or maybe he was stupid. It was stupid to think he could get away without giving the hole to her. So was he stupid or smart? Well, he was ugly, anyway. Look at all those freckles! And his brown hair was the ugliest shade of brown in the Shire. And what color were his eyes? Were they brown or blue or grey or green or all of them mixed together? Oh, what did it matter what the exact color of his eyes was? They were ugly, that was all that mattered. He was ugly and stupid and very rude.

Hamson was oblivious to all Melilot's thoughts. He was picturing himself at the head of a rebel crowd, leading them to where their battle against the Sackville-Bagginses would take place. They had rebelled against those cruel tyrants because of their pure evilness, and now they had only one thought in mind... to drive Melilot out of the Shire. Fortunately Melilot was also oblivious to Hamson's thoughts, or there would have been another fuss.

Hamson didn't consider himself very fortunate. If any other hobbit in the Shire was persecuting him like Melilot could, he could bring the matter to the parents of that hobbit. He didn't consider that to be a cowardly act. After all, hadn't he done everything he could? Melilot was almost a matter for the Shirriffs, of that he was convinced. She should be locked up in jail. He chuckled to himself when he recalled his previous thoughts of how he might go insane. Then the two of them would make a great pair! Melilot was already insane. Of that Hamson was completely convinced. Only an insane hobbit would act like she acted.

Melilot had stopped pondering over Hamson's ugliness and stupidity and was now thinking about how annoying he was. Why couldn't he stop persecuting her and just give her the hole? He was entirely insane. She should report him to his parents. At least he could be civil about the whole thing! Maybe one day the Shirriffs would hear him yelling at her and he'd get thrown into jail. That would be just what he deserved.

Plain to see, the two of them were thinking almost exactly alike. But Hamson was also hatching up various schemes to get rid of Melilot, while she sat there, completely unknowing (innocent wouldn't work). The first one would be simple... he'd use his extra money to get himself a room at the inn. Melilot didn't have any money with her now that she had bought that drink. While she went to get some, he would climb out the window of his room and escape to Buckland. And until she found him again, he'd be perfectly safe.

Hopefully it would work.

[Elora]

Vanwe watched Derufin race out of the stable, sure upon the horse he rode. He had the line of an able horseman. Beren stood at the door as he spoke with Aman, and for the moment Vanwe remained where she was deeper in the stables. She rested a light head on the stall she leant against and felt the inquiring nose of the stall's guest brush her hair. It was a gentle touch from the horse, sensative nose tickling over her head and finding her ear. She smiled faintly and reached to stroke the velvety skin.

"All is well," she murmured quietly though she did not quite feel it herself. She was unsettled. Vanwe lifted her head and pushed herself up from the stall. Aman had moved to a horse's stall and was speaking soothing words. Beren stood watching the interaction between horse and woman. Vanwe could not remain. Things were undone. She sensed them floating in the very air. She left the stable, walking away from where the two stood on elven quite feet.

It would be best to clear her head. The cool air bore the herald of evening to her cheeks. As she walked, slowly as her strength gathered, it touched her cheek and ran fingers through her hair. Her mind turned back the puzzle of Falowik. Heedful that Derufin may want assistance when he returned with the bolted horse, Vanwe did not wander far in the gathering dusk.

The night was, Vanwe noticed, indeed as she had thought it would be. It was fair, untroubled by events at the inn. An unruffled summer night had begun, it wrapped about her shoulders. Vanwe tipped her face upwards to the sky and watched as one by one stars sprung to life. Slowly her mind started to settle as she stood in the open watching the sky abover her.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen heard faint murmurs in the Elvish tongue, she couldn't quite make out who it was, but the horrible memories faded. For a very long time she was ailed by these dreams, the soft Elvish voice washed them all away so that for once in a very long time she could sleep in peace.

The painful heat of orc torture dissipated from her leaving cool comfort as a small breeze blew through the curtains. She could make out the gentle closing of the room door, she was now alone left to rest and recover.

A faint smell of flowers drifted into the room, Esgallhugwen breathed in the scent welcoming it into her body. A few moments of rest and she would see if she was able to get up.

[littlemanpoet]

A riderless horse galloped by Falowik. Moments later, a second horse cantered by, this one bearing a rider. Derufin the stablemaster. He would need no assistance. Falowik was glad to own no horse. He had never ridden, and did not wish to. Beautiful creatures they were, and less troublesome than people, but he had never learned their ways. Better to keep the days simple as may be, old man.

Two hobbits made their way to the inn, one of them screaming for all she was worth. These Hobbits were nothing if not trouble! It would be the last time he paid a visit to the Shire, set compass by it. Why not find a place away from the road? Now that it was night, it would be better not to be a shadow seen skulking from here to there, raising suspicions. Best stay put.

Someone else had come from the stables, not on a horse. A woman walking alone at night. The folly. Unless it's the Elf woman. She's as safe at night as in the day. She stopped not far from the stable and looked up at the stars. She was no business of his. He pulled his eyes away and closed them. Maybe he would get some sleep, at least catch a few winks before Derufin came cantering by with two horses.

[Elora]

As Vanwe studied the sky, her thoughts wandered to the carving she had only just started. It had been at least a day since she worked further on it. Her eyes dropped from the stars and she looked around her, taking in her surrounds. Something snagged her vision, and she gazed intently at a shape leaning against the bole of a nearby tree. It was, she realised with a start, a Man.

Thinking him perhaps injured, sitting as he was outside under a tree, Vanwe started forward cautiously. A Man startled could be dangerous and well she knew it. A few paces away and Vanwe realised it was the Man from the inn and she came to a standstill. She had not spoken a word.

"Is there something I can help you with," he asked, slowly opening his eyes.

"I thought you were injured," Vanwe replied with wide eyes. The link she had sensed earlier whispered in her mind as she spoke. He remained unmoving beneath the tree, watching still.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to disturb you," Vanwe added softly, unsure as to his danger. He did not move still. Feeling faintly foolish, Vanwe realised she had been staring at him. She dropped her eyes to the ground and turned on a heel to leave when something occurred to her. It was not so long ago when a tree had been her only shelter.

"Perhaps, if you wish, I could find you somewhere more comfortable to spend the night... Sir." Vanwe added the appelate just in case she was offending him. It was hard to tell. His lips lifted in a humourless smile, at what she did not know.

"This tree is comfortable for one of my means," he said quietly.
"I do not mean to quarrel, but perhaps Derufin could find something as reasonably priced. I can ask him for you when he returns, if you wish."

Feeling as though she had intruded enough, Vanwe started to withdraw. Falowik liked his privacy, she guessed. A chattering Elf with no apparent appreciation for such things would be irritation enough for his politeness to fade.

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik had spent long years schooling himself to allow little to be seen of that which lay in his heart. The Elf woman's curiosity did not amuse him, nor anger. Rather, his eyes closed, he had felt her approach as if she were a lodestone. None had been so to him in long years. Otherwise he would not have foresworn the troubles of friend and enemy so easily the day he'd left Breeland for the wilds. He did not understand why it was so with this Elf woman, except, perhaps, for that moment of clarity in the Inn when he had known that she held much deep inside; and that made for a kinship of sorts. Dangerous. Troublesome. Take care, he told himself.

"I do not mean to quarrel, but perhaps Derufin could find something as reasonably priced. I can ask him for you when he returns, if you wish."

She had left the choice with him. It was well that he had so warned himself, for her kindness unasked for threatened to undo his long schooling all in a moment. So he was silent, letting her words hang in the air, unanswered for a space. He could think of no cause for her to go out of her way other than mere succor. It was enough to melt any hardness.

"If this be quarrel, then war is laughter." He allowed a wry smile. "I do not lightly take free what others pay for, though I have done so twice this night. I will make the ground my bed. My thanks."

So many words, old man! Falowik was not given to wit, but it had been the only way to answer her fairly and at the same time dam up that which threatened to spill. He needed to get away from these civilized parts before the dam broke. It seemed he had much rebuilding to do.

[Elora]

"I do not like to take freely what others pay for," Falowik said. In the darkness, Vanwe's cheeks flushed with shame.Neither do I, a small and desultory voice replied within her with mocking laughter. War could be laughter. Terrible things could be done whilst those perpetrating the acts laughed. Guilty, Vanwe pondered those things that she had taken freely, need overcoming other considerations.

The very dress she stood in, worn now and thin, was not hers. Yet she could not have fled so far north still in the garb of the Haradwaithe. They would have hunted her down before she crossed from Gondor to Rohan. Her mind darted also to the stub of a pencil that sat now heavily in the small pouch at her belt. At least the belt was hers, she recalled with some reliefm and the shoes. She'd managed to scrounge enough work on the docks of Dol Amroth to furnish those items. She recalled racing on bare feet between manors, carrying secretive documents and boxes. She still idly wondered what was written and was lay in her delivered caskets.

If it had not been for a case of mistaken identity, Vanwe mistaken for her mother by an itenerant cobbler looking for his new fortune in the reward bounty, she could still be darting through the narrow and often dark and dangerous streets of Dol Amroth. Instead, she was standing outside an inn.

Falowik had chosen the tree, and she understood that sometimes honesty was more comfortable than anything else. It was hard to sleep otherwise, no matter how luxuriant ones lodgings. Recalling her earlier suspicions, Vanwe felt an easing within her. An honest man would have no involvement in what had ailed the Elf. She had misjudged him, and poorly so even if he did not know she had done him a disservice.

It was unlike Vanwe to be contrary merely for the sake. Nonetheless, she found herself saying "Very well, Sir. I will return shortly." Before Falowik could demur, Vanwe was off to the stables again with her mind set on somehow repairing a few injustices of the night. She climbed up the ladder to the loft Derufin had given her when he'd found her sleeping in a horse stall.

In a lower draw of the chest of drawers were kept spare blankets for the coming winter. Vanwe retrieved two and laid a few other things upon her small pile of bedding. She added some soap and a clean towel. All she could spare and it was the least she could do. Derufin would not mind, she reasoned, as she climbed down with her new bundle.

Aman noticed Vanwe walk past, preoccupied.

"What's happening, Vanwe," she asked. Vanwe smiled at where she stood with Beren, face perplexed as she peered at the bundle Vanwe had under one arm. Concerned that Falowik may vanish before she could do this small kindness, Vanwe was loathe to loiter.

"Just sorting something out," she replied briefly.

"Are you feeling better?" Aman was not so quickly put off. Vanwe nodded in response.

"Yes, much better now that I have some fresh air. I am not used to healing in front of crowds." With a fleeting smile for Aman and Beren both, which Vanwe hoped would reassure them, she was off again.

Relieved to find Falowik still under his tree, Vanwe stepped closer this time and knelt. He watched her and her bundle warily, gaze shifting around her and then coming back to her face.

"You have chosen your tree, and I have chosen to give you these to use," Vanwe smiled gently at him. When he did not shoo her away, something the men of her village did so roughly, Vanwe continued on.

"There's two blankets. I thought one could be rolled and the other to cushion your lovely tree's roots," she said.

"There's soap too, and a towel. The road can be unforgiving. I always find that the Wilds are a little easier to bear with some water and soap. I've yet to find a plant which grows soap though. It's rarer than unencumbered gifts."

Vanwe held the bundle out. The scent of the soap drifted up, delicate and fresh between them. She hoped she had not offended Falowik's sense of pride.

"There's a well beside the stables, and a stream in the yonder woods," Vanwe added. "I made it my business to find that stream shortly after I arrived here myself."

Falowik made no move to claim the bundle from her.

"Please, accept this. How can one scamp sleep well in her bed which she hardly earns when she knows another enjoys a tree for the night?" Vanwe's attempt at levity was unsure, for she was busy noticing other things. Falowik reminded her in many ways of herself. She recalled how frightened she had been of strangers when she first arrived. It had been kindness that had eased that. A friendly face, a kind word, a bed for free. Between Aman's hospitality and Derufin's umitigated generosity, Vanwe had found herself inculcated into the closest thing to a community ever in her life.

But that was not the only thing Vanwe instinctively sensed within Falowik. She knew what it was like to be meted out suspicion and mistrust based purely on appearance. She knew what it was like to be lost, a speck in a wide world where your name was forgotten and your kin vanished. She knew what it was like to be hungry, thirsty and shelterless. All this and more Vanwe saw in Falowik, perhaps his eyes which she seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time studying.

Falowik did not seem to question the southern inflection of her words. She trusted him for reasons she could not name. So, knelt before Falowik in the darkness of the evening, Vanwe offered her small bundle to the Man and found herself watching him again as kinship hovered. She found she was smiling openly and without guise.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman smiled at Lira as she paid her the compliment, snapping out of the comfortable calm state she had worked herself into as she soothed the horse, and she found herself back in the stables, not in Rohan, but in the Shire. Beren stood behind her, a look of admiration on his face similar to the one Lira wore. The elf was smiling admiringly at the Innkeeper, and Aman returned it with a acknowledging smile of her own, incliding her head. Slowly, she stepped slowly back from the horse, her fingers sliding off her dark, smooth, bay nose, and the mare lifted her head slightly as she did so.

With a satisfied sigh, Aman stepped out of the pen, bolting the door behind her, and with it bolting the thoughts of yearning which she had felt. This was her home, would be for more than a short while. And a good home it was too, she told herself firmly. She turned to face Beren and Lira, and saw Vanwe enter through the front door. With good people as well, she thought with a smile.

Then it fully registered it was Vanwe who had come in, and she looked back to hail the elf. "What's happening, Vanwe?" She called amiably, walking forward to be level with Beren, peering at the bundle under Vanwe's arm. Her own arm was at her side now, so close to another, so close she could almost, she fancied, feel his warmth...

"Just sorting something out." Vanwe's reply was brief, to say the least, and not, to the Innkeeper, at all convincing; the Innkeeper would not be put off that easily.

"Are you feeling better?" She inquired, persevering.

Yes, much better now that I have some fresh air. I am not used to healing in front of crowds." Vanwe smiled briefly at both herself, Beren, and Lira in turn. Did she linger for longer on Beren? Aman rather fancied she had done. No, she was being silly, and besides, why shouldn't she, it wasn't as if Beren was Aman's own....

As Aman mused over this, Vanwe was gone, and the Innkeeper started after her, then stopped - she was growing used to the elf's mysterious ways. Beren raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

Aman sent a glance skywards. "Eru knows, Beren. To call Vanwe simply mysterious would be an understatement. Little is known about her -" She realised she was sounding worryingly like Ruby. "-and that's how it will stay, I think, if she so wishes. I have no intention of pressing her." She ended with a shrug, then cast a glance around the stables, shivering slightly.

"Come, it is getting colder - it will do us all no good to simply wait up for Derufin, now the horses are calmed."

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen was in a deep sleep, dreamless which she hadn't had in a very long time, years it seemed. That aided in her collapse at the bar, but also she had barely eaten anything wholesome for a very long time as well, she only ate enough to keep her alive but not to keep her strength up.

A hobbit was stoking a small fire in the room to keep it warm enough to try and break the Elf's fever, a little pot of soup was kept warm by the fire as well. The fire crackled gently embers burning brightly as the Hobbit sat on a tiny stool, she couldn't help but have the feeling that she was being watched.

When she turned to the Elf laying on the bed, two sparkling grey eyes looked back at her. The Hobbit lass gave a cry jerking from her stool sending it rolling across the room. 'Oh! well... your up then, I'll leave you to your room, theres soup in the pot by the fire, a bowl and spoon on the tray on your dresser' the Hobbit smoothed out her dress trying to act as if she was totally calm and unstartled. Flicking off bits of dust that weren't there.

She stood the stool back up and before she left the room she said 'if you'll be needing anything else just give me a shout' then she was out the door.

Esgallhugwen was still for a few more moments thinking it was slightly funny she had so easily scared the poor little Hobbit. She pushed herself off the bed no longer able to restrain the hunger that stirred in her stomach.

The soup smelled very good, she ladeled out a heeping spoon into the bowl. Bits of chicken and chunks of vegetables steamed in the golden broth. The smell might have been slightly revolting to an Elf that was not used to being half starved in the wild, running, and who never did a thing in their lives eating always the very finest of foods. But to a starving Elf it was all one could ever ask for, the smell was actually quite intoxicating.

Esgallhugwen scooped up the soup feircely, odd for an Elf but she was with no other company and could not be bothered with proper manners and ettiquete. Your horse...your horse is worried about you and all you can worry about is stuffing your face with hearty Hobbit food? She stored that thought in her head as she was downing her third bowl of soup. At least my horse is fed! she retorted at the voice.

Hobbit servings, Elf servings; it did not matter much to her, she had never felt this hungry before but that was because she finally got the rest she needed and was no longer numb to her body being hungry. Surely if you keep this up you will become as fat as a Hobbit! Then all your weight will pull you down and make you short like one! the voice laughed inside her head.

Esgallhugwen finished off the small pot, but was surprisingly not weighed down by the food though it was very hearty. She unpacked a few more of her things and pulled out her sheathed sword that was strapped to her pack.

She traced her fingers along the engravings of the silver white blade, the clapsed the ebony black hilt. Esgallhugwen began to manuever herself in practise positions, the sword cut through the air without making so much as a swishing sound. The air could not decrease it's speed because there was no fricton between the two.

The sword was well crafted for her use only, prepared to be forged and given to her by her Mother. Her Mother Menelariel had given her many of her belongings before she passed on. In a secret ceremony she had given Esgallhugwen such things that would be needed in the time ahead.

'Nárkir, a sword with which to fell your enemies and strike fear into their hearts, Dúrlin the dark bow it's arrows sing swift and true like eagles upon the air. And for you Esgallhugwen Elenglin, I have crafted this pendant, let it be a symbol for courage and hope when the path seems dark or misleading, for my time upon this earth is waning and you can no longer seek me for advice. These are dark times indeed but you have no reason to fear...there is greatness and strength in you that will aid many in this dark time.'

Esgallhugwen sheathed her sword once more, never seeing how she had ever left it in this room alone when it had saved her in the past. She fastened the buckle about her waist just below her belt and picked out two daggers from her pack, they had thin metal scabbards.

She felt less vulnerable with her cloak on and once more shadowed herself in it, never going to make the same mistake as to remove it again so everyone can stare at you, especially since you made a scene at the bar. But her strength was renewed thanks to the food and she would never let her strength fail her again.

She cleaned off her boots of the caked on mud before she headed downstairs. Esgallhugwen searched out Lira among the staring eyes, some gave her harse looks others tried to look down but peeped out of the corners of their eyes, while others still looked at her as if she was some poor beast waiting to be slaughtered.

[ August 19, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

[Beren87]

Beren watched the innkeeper as she strolled out of the stables, and into the night beyond. The elf's comments still ligered in his mind, as it attempted to wrap itself around their idle subtlety. Suddenly a light of thought erupted into darkness of his steadily thinking mind, amid the events of the day which were running through wanderingly. Suddenly he realised why his nerves tightened as they had, he was finally alone with the innkeeper, for the moment anyway. He raced with some interesting comment to engage her with, to catch her attention.

"Aman! I've just remembered, I'm to be moving into the spare bedroom of the stables, alongside Derufin. I'll be needing linens to adorn the bed, as I've only a blanket that was left in the room." Beren spoke the words in a rush, happy to have thought of a comment. Suddenly he realised what he had just said. He was alone with the lovely innkeeper, his once chance to show her that he was not a traveling buffoon who's skills were limited to that of curing bumps begotten from coatracks, and he had wasted the moment on linens! "I don't mean to trouble you farther that is, being as how hectic the situation seems to be this evening..."

"Oh, don't concern yourself with that, it seems to always be this busy in the Inn, no matter what season it is." She smiled at him, the white gleam puncturing his nervousness. "Come on in with me, and I'll see what I can find. I doubt they've all been used recently, the Inn isn't completely full of guests, at any rate."

He smiled at her, still following along the beaten-dirt path to the door of the Inn. The stables weren't far away, but they were both going slow, enjoying the serenity of the night, and perhaps, the company of each other.

[littlemanpoet]

"Very well, Sir. I will return shortly."

It was trouble brewing, he could feel it. People are trouble, be they Man, Dwarf, Hobbit, or Elf. Then leave and be free of it. He remained by the tree. One did not leave lodestones easily.

His eyes were closed when she returned, a rod of light coming toward him, capturing his awareness. She had chosen, and gone out of her way, and spoke now many words to coax and cajole; and none of her words were bitter to the ear. Not a one. A scamp? Queen of scamps then. The fresh smelling soap seemed fitting of this Queen.

He had never been more afraid in his life. And never more willing to be so. I do not lightly take what others pay for. And now she had placed him squarely amid just such a choice, and knew what she did. He could see it in her eyes. He would not take. Not lightly. But these would not be paid for by another if he did not take them. She offered freely of her own. He would take, not lightly.

It was not in Falowik's mind to tax Vanwë's patience, forcing her to hold the bundle between them. Twice he chose to reach and take, but his arms did not obey. Long schooled were those arms and hands in keeping close to side, for near the body they could not be struck away. But she offered freely, openly. Why? Mere succor. Her eyes, her face, bespoke nothing less. Her eyes did not leave his. He could not take his eyes from hers as she humbled herself to kneeling before him. Almost the King of scamps he felt. They were kindred somehow, though Man and Elf. He chose to reach a third time. His hands closed around the bundle, careful not to offend by touching hers.

"My thanks, Fair One." His voice choked and he looked away, and pulled the bundle from her hands. "Please -" He needed to not be seen, the dam having cracked ever so little. But he could not ask her to leave. Kindness. Even thinking the word cracked the dam yet further. He turned away from her and made to open the bundle and spread it over him. The knot in his throat did not go away. Nor did she, yet.

[Imladris]

Lira silently withdrew into the shadows as Beren approached Aman in the stables and began to converse with her. She smiled at the man and woman and began to absently stroke Merkaliel, whose white coat glistened in the the light of the rising moon. Merkaliel whickered softly to Lira and the elf leaned her head upon the horse's neck, and breathed deeply. The pleasant smell of hay and oats tickled her nostrils and the good fresh smell of horse brought her mind back to the days she had spent in Imladris. Strange that the smell of a horse could remind her of that fair dwelling. "What do you think, Merkaliel," she whispered. "What is the most beautiful place we have been?" Lira softly began to sing in her soft enchanting, haunting voice:

In Mirkwood, the forest green, lives an elvish kingdom fair,
Under shelter of mighty trees are royal feasts with food and wine to spare.
Beauty thrives there, and evil has no place there
For the spiders have been driven back and n'er a one is left in their black lair.

Lothlorien, the golden wood, alas for beauty faded.
Elanor flowers no longer fall to ground, its grief is not abated.
No longer is the presence of the lady seen or felt or heard,
Deserted it is save for the sound of a wand'ring bird.

Rohan, land of plains and grassy fields, realm of the horse lords great and tall,
And Eomer, King of the Mark, dwells in splendour in the Golden Hall.
King Elessar, in Gondor, rules with noble wisdom upon his long awaited throne.
In Rivendell, elves still sing of times forgetten, of lore in haunting tones.
The Shire, home to the little folk, is yet covered with grass green and fine,
And Hobbits remain in blissful solitude, untouched by the hand of Time."

[Amanaduial the archer]

Linen?! He's going to talk about Linen?! Aman didn't say anything to Beren as he spoke, then she saw the faint self-rebuking expression flit across his face, and almost laughed. She wasn't the only one who had thought it then. As he began to stutter something else out, Aman smiled at him, waving his apologies away.

"Oh, don't concern yourself with that, it seems to always be this busy in the Inn, no matter what season it is." She smiled at him once again, inclining her head towards the Inn. "Come on in with me, and I'll see what I can find. I doubt they've all been used recently, the Inn isn't completely full of guests, at any rate."

Beren ducked his head, smiling back, still somehow a little flustered, and they began to walk, quite slowly, enjoying the cool night air. He was a funny character, to be sure, so awkward sometimes, but at other times so self-contained. She turned her head to look at him in the darkness, half his face highlighted by the moon, catching the lines of his bone structure and the colours of his hair. As if sensing Aman was looking at him, he turned his head to look at her. She looked straight at him, their eyes meeting, and he returned the smile...

...before going straight over forwards as his foot caught in a hole in the road.

Aman's hand shot out, catching him as he fell, but he straightened up himself quickly, muttering something, and Aman could see his bright scarlet blush even in the half light of the moon. Smiling to herself she continued walking as the man brushed himself down, shaking her head. How very Beren...

"Come along then, Beren." She spoke briskly, but not unkindly. The moment was gone, but hey, the rest of their time was moments...

[Elora]

Vanwe was both startled and pleased as Falowik accepted the bundle from her. His voice altered subtely as he spoke his thanks. She did not know whether it was his choice of words or the timbre of his voice. He turned away after, a word of pleading falling from him. She did not understand. Fair One? Surely not her, a castaway raised in a desolate village and reviled for what she was! Yet before she could demur, she felt something shift.

It was not that Falowik said "Please," but rather how he said it. Something was wrong, she sensed, but then something was right. Never had she heard that note, delicate and yet vivid, in a voice that addressed her. The Elf leant closer, reaching past her learnt caution. Her hand stretched before her as though she had no reason to fear. It alighted on Falowik's shoulder.

Something was wrong, and then something was not. She felt a quiver beneath her touch, a shock. She leant forward still, beyond her past and into her present, her pale golden hair falling fowards as she moved like a curtain lit by moon.

"What is it," Vanwe whispered to Falowik. She was perilously close to this Man. When she felt his hand close around her fingers, fear did not flare through her. She remained where she was.

"Please, tell me?" Something was right. She did not know what. Only that his fingers encirled her own, and that his voice chimed in her mind. "Thank you Fair One. Please..." If her voice held it's own note, she did not question it. He could push her away. That would be the least of what he could do.

Slowly, as though struggling hard with something, he turned his face back to hers. "I can help," Vanwe murmured softly and she smiled for she thought that she could. She did not know why, only that she trusted as did he and that she could.

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik felt a touch on his shoulder, gentle, warm. He had never felt such warmth, and it shocked him, for her hand was shapen fire touching ice; and the ice melted to the touch, puddling quickly. He could not let this happen! But he could not afford to make it stop.

"What is it?" How could someone made of fire speak with a voice so fleshly warm? So it was with the Elves. His hand came up and clasped hers. Folly, old man, 'twill only lead to more pain. Her hand was warm but he could not face her.

"Please, tell me?" No, he could not speak it. It was foolishness. He had already allowed too much. Tell her to go away, old man. He formed the first word in his mouth but could not release it. He did not want her to stay. He did not want her to leave. He did not let go of her hand. Kindness. Could she be trusted were he to speak it? The warmth traveled into his chest. Slowly he turned toward her.

To tell her what? Speak what? He did not know what lay in him so deep, having frozen him into ice for all these years.

"I can help." Help with what? He did not know. Maybe he did not need to know. Her eyes and her face shown with the fire inside her, with a sureness, a deftness that could not fail. He opened his mouth to speak, not knowing what his words would be. Of a sudden his mind turned to the impending arrival of horses and stablemaster. Derufin could return at any time. Falowik became aware of his hand on hers, of how close her face was to his, how they two would appear to one coming near. He pulled his hand away, glancing off west, back to her.

"You - you have helped enough already, Fair One. My thanks." He looked meaningfully to the west once more, and turned from her. "Please leave me now." He felt her pull back as though stung. She stood and backed away. The light in her faded, though a lodestone she remained. It was no good. He had done as he always did, spurning all people, all trouble save that which lay within his own heart; but that trouble he knew well enough. Maybe he could take the sting out of this one, though, for she did not deserve such pain. He turned to face her one last time. She had begun to turn away.

"Vanwë-" She stopped and looked back, the moon catching the strands of her golden hair. "I will use the soap." He turned from her. Why had he said just that? It was all he could manage. It would have to do. And he would keep his word. He heard her quiet steps for a few paces, and then no more.

You're a fool, old man, the stray horse could take the stablemaster all night to find. It had been too much, more than he could allow himself to feel alone, much less before this Elf woman who read him all too well, it seemed. You need to be more careful, old man. With those comforting words in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Imladris]

Lira finished the song of whose words she had made up on the spur of the moment. It was a foolish song, ill sung, ill worded, yet it was true, in a sense. Weariness washed over her and she realized she had not rested for many hours...she did not count the cat nap she had taken earlier on as "rest." Softly, as the elven lady leaned against her horse, nose and eyes buried in the soft mane, silvery mane, a dream came to her, stepping softly into her and taking possession of her mind.

But why do you wish to leave, Middle-earth?" Lira asked her father and mother softly, gesturing widely about her. They stood in the sun lit land of Ithilien and the birds sang merrily around them, quite oblivious to the distressful child below them.

"It is not as if we were darting away like an arrow to the Valinor," her father protested, patting Merkaliel affectionately. "We'll linger on...first visiting the Old Forest, maybe converse with birds and flowers," he went on lightly, his eyes twinkling. "Then we'll drop by Lothlorien and lament that it's golden beauty will slowly fade away until it, too, will no more exist, and then we'll meander through Mirkwood --"

"Not if I know you, my love," interjected Mother. "He'll probably wander from one end of Mirkwood to the other, and then re-visit his old haunts and Thranduil's realm."

"Liralwen," her father interrupted, calling Lira's mother by her full name, "you will enjoy it just as much as I. After that, we'll drift down towards Imladris and listen to merry elves sing under the stars and hear stories told beside a frolicking fire. The whole trip should take six or seven years, especially if we don't rush through the land. And then we will journey to the Grey Havens and wait for you upon the shores of the Blessed Realm."

"Whilst we're gone, you can stay here in Ithilien, marry, and raise a family," Liralwen suggested.

"Or you could just suddenly change your mind while we are traveling, journey to the Grey Havens and meet us there when we reach the lovely spot," her father said hopefully, nodding earnestly.

Lira stared wretchedly at the ground and watched a butterfly flit from flower to flower before she answered, "I am sorry, father...but I cannot find it in my heart to leave just yet. So much has happened and the darkness has just now departed. It is as if an eternal spring has fallen upon the land. But we shall meet again, father and mother, either upon the shores of the Valinor, or in the Grey Havens," said Lira smiling.

"We'll send word, Lira, when we reach the Havens," said her father.

"Namarie!" they cried to each other before they at last disappeared over the ridge of a hill.

Lira awoke with a start and saw that the moon was yet shining; silver pools dimpled the land around the stable. In the night, cricket bards could be heard chirping their mournful tales. It had been seven years, drawing nigh to eight, since that meeting, and no word had come.

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen broke off from one of the stares that was especially cruel, she could see it in his mind Nothing but trouble... those Elves and thinking they can just barge into a quiet place and start making a fuss, nothing but withchery and deception that was back there, always pulling stunts, their probably the heathens and ruffians everyone is talking about, always skulking around in the shadows!

She could not sense Lira in the Inn so she headed out the door, just as she opened it Aman and the man Beren came in, Esgallhugwen exchanged glances with the two. Aman seemed a little shocked that the Elf was already on her feet and walking about after what had happened earlier with all the commotion and strangeness.

Outside she could hear singing that she recognized in her dark dreams before they vanished. She halted almost dropping the daggers she had gripped in her hand, those haunting words bound her in a spell before she could break them and continue on her way.

Lira stood by her horse the moon shining on both of them, Esgallhugwen did not want to disturb but walked over lightly into the moonlight. The silver scabbards glistening like crystals in her cold white hand. Her eyes sparkled briefly under her hood.

'Lira' she said smoothly as Lira woke with a start, she looked over and smiled 'so you are up are you sure you are alright? What happened?'. Esgallhugwen walked closer, 'I'd much rather not talk about that at this time, since the darkness has left me for a while yet'. She held the daggers aloft in her hand towards Lira 'take these... I noticed that you carry nothing on you for protection, and these I can spare, also take them as a sign of our friendship, you were there when I fell... but who was the one that was inside of me, I must thank them as well'. Lira didn't seem to know what to say at first so Esgallhugwen walked over to Morsereg and comforted him.
And so she sang:

Of days of olde the Elves would sing of greatness and of good. But soon all treasures sank from them and turned to stone cold ash.
All have passed, but few who stay have not lost hope in days of shadow.
Light will come again one day, so she said to me. I could not see it.
Is the light hailed by mortal ones alone when the immortal are ever in sorrow?
She has passed but her body is left in mortal lands... forever.
Hope and courage she gave to me to aid when paths mislead.
I fear I will never gaze upon Luinhith again, do not despair for the light of hope and good has come again.

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

[Elora]

Vanwe stood still in the moonlight as Falowik gave her that small ease to sooth the earlier sting of his withdrawal. The moonlight shone on her face as her perplexed expression relaxed into a pleased one.

"Thank you, Sir Falowik," she softly said. Falowik fell silent again, wrapped in his private reverie that she had intruded upon far too many times that night. OF course he had pushed her away. He could have been far rougher. The small fragment of braided leather that she had left on a table in the inn was testament to that.

"May the Watcher grant you rest this night," she said softer still, glancing up to the star she had named. It shimmered, bright and remote. With that, Vanwe turned and walked back to the stables, hair fluttering behind her as she retreated. It was getting late and she had already offended enough for one day.

Vanwe made her way through the darkness of the stables, finding the ladder that led to her loft. She scaled it, mind full with many things, and went straight to the candle that sat dark on the chest of drawers. She was too restless to sleep. Candle lit, Vanwe pushed open the hay doors to let in the night and the stars.

She stood there, looking out over the inn and trees and then turned back to the candle. She carried it to a stool that sat by the wall and set it down nearby. Vanwe folded neatly to sit upon that stool, skirts pooling around her and she retrieved a small block of wood. It had but the barest of shapings on it.

She pulled out the simple, serviceable belt knife and glanced once more at the stars. The Watcher was still there, brilliant amid the other gems of light. She let it fill her eyes and her mind, then she took her knife and started to work on the wood. By flickering candlelight, the rough shaping took on more detail. The colour of the wood grain was revealed, layer by layer. With some polish, it would shine with it's own earthly light when she was finished.

As she carved and shaped, Vanwe's mind ranged wide as she pondered scamps, vagabonds and soap. Perhaps, if he was still there in the morning, she would apologise for her overboldness. It had to be the unwatered wine on an empty stomach, she reasoned. She paid no heed to the faint glow in her cheeks as her thoughts turned as they would.

[ August 20, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Envinyatar]

Moonset, nearing dawn

‘Falmar was gone . . . The words echoed in his head, making it ache. She had asked him to care for her mount until she returned. And now the horse was gone . . .

Derufin slumped in the saddle, it had been a long night, with many miles covered. He was dead tired. Reins slack in his hands, he let the horse take the lead in negotiating their slow way back to the Inn. It was nearly moonset when they reached the stable. The Inn and yard were quiet, though from the thick stream of smoke he saw pushing upwards from the kitchen’s chimney, he knew Cook would be up and finishing the last of her baking before catching a few more hours of sleep.

The hens in their coop were quiet as he passed and even the rooster slept still. Derufin dismounted in the yard and led the chestnut as quietly as he could into the stable. Only the muted jangling of the bit and bridle being taken off and hung up on the stall post broke the peace of the other horses and ponies. Derufin wiped down the charger, keeping a soft, running commentary going on his actions. He needed to do that, as much to calm the horse as to calm himself. A fresh bucket of water, some sweet hay, and a blanket over the back to guard against chill and Derufin considered the job done. He stepped out of the stall, latching the gate securely and stood for a moment leaning against the cross post that held the saddle.

He considered whether he should go to bed or see what Cook would let him rustle up for himself. Supper was a dim memory, if not a complete phantasm of his imagination. Had he eaten? He could not remember.

Cook was just glazing the last of the sticky buns for breakfast when he walked in. So intent was she on the application of the sugary concoction that she did not hear him enter, and she stifled a scream when he called her name and nudged her on the shoulder.

‘Don’t ever do that again, you misbegotten man!’

He stepped back quickly as she took a swipe at him with the long handled wooden spoon she was using to stir the glaze. Droplets of sugary goo plopped themselves against his shirt, and he scraped a few off with his index finger, running an appreciative tongue over them. She pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and pushed him toward it. He stood there in an exhausted daze.

‘Oh sit down, sit down,’ she chided him, putting a plump sticky bun on a plate and pouring him a cup of hot tea. ‘You look all done in.’ Derufin took a gulp of the scorching liquid and left the bun untouched . .

[Imladris]

Lira, as she listened to the song Esgallhugwen sang, inspected the daggers. Silver vines encurled about the scabbards, their silver sides glimmered in the moonlight. Girding one about her waist, where it hung gracefully and clanked gently against her hip, Lira packed the other in a saddle bag. "Esgallhugwen," Lira murmured, taking the elf's hand in hers, "I thank thee for thy gift of friendship."

Turning, Esgallhugwen by her side, Lira tugged her pale yellow hair, the hair streaked with white and murmured, "Esgallhugwen, I am afraid. All is not well, I fear, with my parents. They told me that when they reached the Valinor in six or seven years, they would send word to me. I told they in Ithilien that if a message arrived to send it off to the Shire, but I have received nothing. The road was still black when they departed...I fear they may have never reached the Havens."

A sad silence fell and Lira, with a soft, sad laugh, shook it off and said, "Come with me. I must see the Mistress Innkeeper."

[Elora]

Uien (formerly known as Vanwe) stretched her fingers as she set the carving down. It was a rough lump of wood no longer. Her thoughts had not allowed sleep, and she did not miss it in truth as she was filled with an energy. Brushing a some fragile shovings away with a gentle hand, she blew on the carving and studied it critically.

Slowly, piece by piece, she was improving. It had been an ambitious project, to uncover a star in a block of wood. It glowed with a foresty radiance, the grain alight and satiny. Some polish would not go astray either. Perhaps Aman had some to spare in the attic. Uien cleaned her belt knife and sheathed it. Smoke rose from her candle in a curling plume, the candle now burnt out.

Uien stood, stretching fluidly with a feline liquid grace. She had been sitting on that stool, carving all night. She walked to the open hay doors, to the very edge. Her bare toes wriggled over the edge of the floor as she looked out at the sky. It was grey now. Morning was coming. She tucked her hair behind her ears, trying to keep it from the playful fingers of an early morning breeze. It ruffled her hair relentlessly nonetheless.

The stars had started to fade, all but a determined few. Uien smiled up at her namesakes and turned back to the loft behind. An early start would get the work done faster, and Derufin had had a long night. She collected her wooden star and dropped it in her pouch as she walked back to the ladder. Uien did not decide what to do with it until she reached the lower stables.

Quietly, she crept into Derufin's empty lodgings and deposited the star next to the crane. She ran a gentle finger fondly over the graceful sweep of outstreched wings. It wanted to soar, she thought. With that, Uien left to begin the day's work. There was water to fetch, feed to set outk, hay to change and rake. The horses had to be set out to pasture, and that was only the beginnings.

As was her habit, Uien sang softly as she collected empty buckets that hung at the back of the stables and started to haul water to the day pastures. Horses, familiar with her morning singing, whickered at her as she passed.

"Soon, my friends, soon," she replied with light good humour. "I haven't even gotten the grain out yet." Her song floated out with her from the stables to the well, empty buckets swinging from both hands. A mist hung closely to the ground, thick and white. It would a hot day, she sensed, as she walked through it.

[Esgallhugwen]

'Lira, mellon' Esgallhugwen placed her hand on Lira's shoulder gently 'I would not despair, for despair is for those who see the end beyond all doubt. You say they left in dark times? Perhaps evil has not befallen them only the messenger has been waylaid, or perhaps they sensed that some evil had befallen you and had therfore not sent any messengers thinking that it was folly. Much are the strange chances in the world when paths mislead in times of shadow.'

It had now been Esgallhugwen's turn to try and rekindle some hope that her parents were yet alive, though she knew not whether they had left for Valinor thinking that Lira had been taken by the shadows, or that indeed they had not passed to the Grey Havens at all.

She noticed another Elf now preparing feed and singing. The presence was familiar, but she went along with Lira to find the Innkeeper Aman. There would be time to speak with her later perhaps when she was not busy with her duties.

Esgallhugwen felt odd trying to give hope when she had barely little herself. But she felt it the right thing to do, it was the least she could do. The world was harsh she knew that plain enough, but courage and hope are like fire in dark places so her Mother often said when darkness had encroached upon their small kingdom.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Dawn

Aman, horse mistress of Rohan, sped across the plains of Rohan, a dark, wild steed beneath her, his warmth right against her legs, no sadle stopping her from blending completely with the magnificent animal, newly broken in, another of her proud, early triumphs...

Sitting, her back against the side of the windowseat in her room where she had gone to sleep still clothed, Aman, Innkeeper of the Green Dragon in the Shire, awoke with a start as her cheek slipped off her hand, her elbow slipping from her knees (her feet were on the window seat) where it had rested. Looking around the lightening room, Aman took a moment to realise Meldo, the dark steed upon whose back she had sped through her dreams, was nowhere near. Rubbing her warm cheek lest her hand had left a red mark, the Innkeeper leant her head right back against the side of the window seat, letting it loll slightly to one side so she was looking up and out at the sky. The stars had gone in now, and the sky was alight with the beautiful hues of the slightly cloud streaked sky, impatiently awaiting the sun as it came up over the horizon, letting the light of the new day pour like liquid wonder over the Shire. But it wasn't Rohan.

Letting her legs fall from the window seat over the side, Aman turned away from the window into her room, standing with a sigh whilst rubbing the errant sleep from one green eye. The night had passed all too quickly, and with it the dream, the dream of Meldo, the beautiful bay, her pride and joy. A wild one he had been, one of the geldings who roamed, untrained, across the plains until one of the horse masters dared to try to capture them. Her first stallion...

Shaking her head, Aman began to prepare for the day. The dream had been too brief, it was true, but maybe it was better that it hadn't come at all.

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik woke with the rising sun. He did not remember his dreams, much less if he had had one. No, there had been a dream, of an Elf woman, fair and kind, no, and angel who was fire beneath flesh. Falowik stretched and discovered a blanket wrapped around him. No. It had not been a dream. Uien. She had been real, kneeling before him, offering this very blanket. No, she had offered more than the blanket: the fire inside to heal and make whole, but first to scrub raw. He had not been ready for that. He had no plan to be ready for such a thing any time soon.

There was soap. He could smell it. He had made a promise. He would see it through, even if he stood off from her today. He rose, bundled everything up, and went down to the stream. It was a cool breezy morning. It was a secluded spot Uien had told him of. He had to just about peel the clothes from his back, and decided that they needed a good washing, too. He pulled out the soap and went to work.

After the suds had washed downstream, he peered at his reflection and saw what he had not seen for years: a clean face, though marred by stubble, and golden hair, the color of yellow fire. So had he been born, and so had he been named: Falowik, gold fire. It didn't look all that bad. He turned from his reflection, blurred as it was by the current, found a round rock, and rubbed at his shirt and trousers with soap in one hand and rock in the other. The grime sloughed into the stream and flowed away.

He heard someone singing lightly nearby. He left off scrubbing sunk to his neck in the water, backing to the bank, hoping not to be seen.

[Elora]

She could smell soap, and she smiled. He had promised and Falowik was a man of his word as well as the honesty she had sensed the night before. She heaved the filled buckets and emptied them one by one into the trough to fill it, a smile on her face despite the weight. A burden made light by something ephemeral. The sky was rosy overhead, delicate streaks of colour stretching through the lightening sky. The clearing Falowik was in would be beautiful by that light, she thought as she emptied the last bucket. She was pleased he would enjoy it as she had.

Uien continued to sing as she moved through her tasks. She also recalled how nervous she had been of discovery. A private man, Falowik would not be at all pleased with the thought that she was about to intrude. Still the thought brought an amused twitch to her lips. Next to be done was the feed bins in the day pasture. She emptied grain into a wheelbarrow and wheeled it out with a shovel resting atop.

The bins which hung from the fence rafters were filled in short order, Uien's song shifting into a new one. Birds added their voices. They knew when the grain was set out at the Green Dragon.

"This is not for you," Uien said to the watching birdlife. A crow alighted on the fence, fat and glossy black and studied her. "Don't take too much then," she cautioned it as it cocked its head. The empty wheelbarrow was wheeled back and the now impatient horses were eager to see the birds did not steal their breakfast.

She lead them by halters to the pasture, the birds reluctantly winging away except for the bold crow who cawed as a horse snorted at it, oblivious to the blast of warm expelled air. The birds were replaced by horses, whose heads filled the bins. She'd have to wait until they'd had their fill and refill them a little later in the day.

For now, she latched the gate and dusted off her dress. The trough was the closest water, the stream being already occupied. As she passed nearby on her way to the trough, where water sparkled and invited her to wash her hands, she smiled.

"Good morning, Sir Falowik," she called lightly. "I hope your tree guarded you well last night." She wondered if he frowned or smiled as she plunged her arms into the trough to wash the grain and horses away. Nearby the stubborn crow continued to watch her, as though she very well might produce some grain from nowhere. A row of horses swished their tails in pleasure as they ate the grain. It cawed at her as she splashed water in the dawn light.

"May I not even have the trough, Master crow," she inquired. "You had the grain bins, and Falowik the stream." The crow watched, eyes bright and dark, beak sharp and agile. It cawed again, as if by reply.

"I most certainly have gone mad, talking to birds as I do. Then again, I do sing to horses," Uien mused aloud, shaking her head and splashing water on her face. She straightened, turning to watch the sky continue to lighten, she wondered what golden-haired Falowik made of the dawn and of people who spoke to birds and sang to horses. The crow cawed again.

Uien picked up her song as she drew clean morning air into her lungs and embraced the day and whatever it would hold, the clean herbal scent of soap drifting to her with the rememberance of a too brief yet warm touch. As she stood, it occured to her that it would be poor indeed to allow the road to claim Falowik on an empty stomach, if indeed the road would claim him that day.

A fluttering of dismay waved through her at the thought. No, it simply would not do. Uien took a breath and ventured cautiously towards the nearby clearing. There was silence, no splashing.

"Falowik," she called softly. Had he already left, without so much as a word? He owed her nothing, Uien well knew, but still she hoped he had not left. Hoping she was not speaking to fresh air, with her gaze trained on a spray of foliage immediately before her lest it wander to something else, Uien pushed on.

"Breakfast will be ready soon. You're more than welcome to join me if you wish." Uien heard silence and the trickle of the stream as it wandered between its banks. "Cook's making sweet buns. They're very good," she added by way of reassurance.

Uien studied the fern leaf in the pool of sunlight in which she stood intently. Perhaps she was mad, intruding as she was if Falowik was there or else inviting the uninhabited trees to breakfast. Sweet buns and lunacy. There were worse fates for an Elf, Uien mused and she smiled faintly at the thought. Valinor, for example, held no Falowik nor an inn named the Green Dragon. Perhaps she was fortunate to have become lost when she was.

It was a new thought for Uien. Until that moment, she had accounted the events of her interrupted journey to the Grey Havens as misfortunate ones. Certainly, some experiences that arose were ones she did not care to repeat. But then, some she found she had a liking for, such as the one right now.

"I'll wait for you by the well, Sir Falowik" she offered and started to turn away and leave the sunny patch that she had stood in as her mind took its wandering path, darting through memories like a silvery minnow in the tide.

[ August 21, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Reynion groaned. His head was near bursting, what with the irrepressible Morlathion pressing ale on him most of the evening, and his own desire to escape the memories of the ruin of Greenwood. It had taken a great deal longer for him to go under than usual, perhaps because it was Shire ale, and not Dorwinion wine. His leg was lying on the floor, and he distractedly wondered just how it had gotten there.

He looked around. Morlathion seemed to have disappeared sometime ago, for there was only an overturned mug to mark that the so-clumsy elf had ever been there. This morning, that was how Reynion preferred it anyway. If he'd had any real friends, they would likely flee in from his mood when he woke with a hangover. Still, the headache (he did not get sick, thank Elbereth) would serve to keep his mind off of the faces of the elves who had died when Greenwood fell.

He bent over to reattach his wooden leg, and nearly knocked his head against the bar. He sat up slowly, careful not to jar his head anymore than it already was, then bent again to reach the polished wood. The leather straps didn't seem to want to go into the buckles, and he was seeing double. It looked like it was going to be one of those days.

[Imladris]

The comforting words of Esgallhugwen did relieve Lira's concern a little. The singing of another Elf maiden further drove the shadows away...what was her name? Lira had heard it once before when it had been uttered casually. It was Uien. Lira flushed a little when she realized that she had never once gone over and spoken to the elf maiden. She would have to do it, when Uien was not so busy. Lira sighed as she sensed something, as if Uien was deep upon the path of memories, both good and bad.

As Lira glided toward the inn, Esgallhugwen by her side, the ugly elf wondered what she would say to the Innkeeper. She was frought with indecision, whether she should leave the inn and seek her parents at the Grey Havens, or help the Innkeeper. Lira muttered in irritation as she realized that she still didn't know the Innkeeper's name. Ah well.

Suddenly, Lira knew what she would do and a happy, though almost a sad sort of smile, flitted across her face. She would ask the Innkeeper if she could stay for a few weeks and help and, when the inn had a lull in the customers and was not so busy, she would depart for the Grey Havens.

She saw Aman coming down the stairs, ready to begin the duties of the day, and Lira quickly intercepted her. "Mistress Innkeeper," she said, hoping the Innkeeper would not be bothered with her persistent offers of help, "do you have anything that Esgallhugwen and I could do to help you in any way?"

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman, coming down the stairs, winced as the man lying on the floor jarred his head on the bar, one of his legs seeming to be twisted at an impossible angle. Ah, no, his was a wooden one, she remembered seeing it last night. But how had she managed to miss him when clearing up last night? Guiltily, the Innkeeper remembered walking along the path and through the grass nearby with Beren, talking and laughing, kicking up the dew - she hadn't exactly been vigilant about the Inn...

She was about to go and help, whether with kind words, a helping hand, or a thrown bucket of water she hadn't decided, when the door opened - a mystery, as it should have been locked. Yes, Aman distinctly remembered locking the door...ah, Uien must have gone out in the early morning or something.

The elf, who she recognised as Lira, the elven girl who had complimented her on her horse-handling skills the night before, nodded to her politely, and Aman returned it. Esgalhugwen, beside her (looking much better than the last time Aman had seen her, lying pale and gasping in a bed upstairs, tended to by Vanwe), did the same. The Innkeeper grinned despite herself - they were like a couple of hens, bobbing the farmyard.

"Mistress Innkeeper," Lira paused, apparently psyching herself up, and due to her nervous expression, Aman decided not to interject that she didn't have to call her that every time, as it might further put her off. Lira seemed to take a deep mental breath before continuing quickly, "do you have anything that Esgallhugwen and I could do to help you in any way?"

Aman clicked her fingers, irritated - not with Lira, but with herself. She had, once again, forgotten, what with all that had happened last night. The girl seemed instantly to deflate, and seemed about to bid her a good morning and leave, so Aman spoke hastily.

"No, no, nothing like that. In fact, I think I was about to reply last night, before all the kerfuffle - no offence meant, of course," she addressed the last mark to Esgalhugwen, who smiled obligingly. Lira looked slightly less nervous, but not much. "I talked to Cook - sorry, that's Ms Vinca Bunce, works here also - about this, and it turns out I could actually do with a hand, although I'm not sure it would be enough for two extra sets of hands. I very recently came back from the Prancing Pony, in Bree, and have procurred several wines - there is a celebration coming up, the naming ceremony of the previous Innkeeper's two newborns...but there are also years of old wines still down in the cellar. Now, it would take me several solid weeks - and Eru knows how many flattening hangovers," shd added with a grin. "- to get all of them tasted, classified, and labled. It would be good to have some help in that quarter. Oh, and one of the waitresses is going away for a few days, so help there would be appreciated as well. Also...actually, yes, also, there is the matter of a set of rooms which need to be refurbished upstairs for Pio - that's the previous Innkeeper - when she comes. What do you say?"

She paused, watching Lira's features, then clicked her fingers again, remembering what else she had meant to say. "Oh yes - and the name is Aman." She added with a grin.

[Nerindel]

As the new day began, a tall and slender elven woman rode into the courtyard of the Green dragon inn, her shoulder length golden hair shone with the light of the suns first rays. "I think we will stop here today friend," she whispered to the grey elven mare, patting its neck lovingly.

She dismounted and lead Lintaer to the stables, the stable doors where closed she looked at the mare and shrugged. There was a bucket and some hay next to the hitching post outside the stable. She hitched Lintaer and taking the bucket she looked around for somewhere to fill it, on a small hill next to the inn see saw a well. "I'll just get you some water," she smiled stroking the mares fine silvery mane, she laughed lightly as the mare muzzled her affectionately.

She skipped lightly across the courtyard swinging the empty bucket in her left hand, whistling lightly as she went. Kneeling down on the damp morning grass she gently lowered the wooden bucket attached to the well, once filled she pulled it back up and emptied it into the larger metal one she had brought from the courtyard, she lowered the smaller bucket once more and used the cool fresh water within to wash away the dirt and grim of her journey, as she did her hand traced the thin pink line across the left cheek of her dark weathered, but delicate face. She shuddered as the memories of the mission that had brought her the scar flashed through her mind and memory of the elf who could never look on her without the torment of the same mission plaguing him, stood out sorely in her mind. she missed him so, and her heart ached to see him, but she had not seen him since he left Mirk...no she would never call it that, Greenwood shortly after the great war. a single tear fell down her cheek, she brushed it away and pushed those fateful memories to the back of her mind.

Then lifting the now heavy bucket she slowly made her way back to Lintaer. The mare lightly nickered her thanks, She smiled and affectionately scratched the mares ear. "Now to see to myself she laughed, I will be by later to see if you are housed comfortably, now be nice to the stable staff she winked jovially, The mare snorted and stamped a hoof as if offended by her words. With one last loving pat, she made her way to the inn.

She paused at the door, wondering what this day would bring. and with a deep breath she pushed open the door and made her way to the common room. She removed her dusty cloak and hung it on a peg next to the door and made her way to the bar, adjusting the strap on her herb satchel she perched herself gracefully on a stool in front of the bar.

"Can I get you anything!" a middle aged, stern looking, hobbit woman asked. She smiled warmly and asked "if it was possible for her to get a room in the inn?" "Of course, of course!" the hobbit woman now grinned, pushing a large guest book in front of her and handing her a beautiful blue quill, She delicately scrolled the letters of her name 'Taurëwen'. "Good, Good" the hobbit woman nodded taking both the quill and book, placing them back under the bar and handing her a medium sized dragon headed brass key. "up the stairs and second on the left, but I hope you will stay down for breakfast" the hobbit woman said eyeing her up and down although she thought the slender elf didn't eat. "That would be lovely," she smiled " I Should make you aware that I do not eat meat, but anything else would be fine" she smiled earnestly as the woman's face again seemed stern. "And can I get you anything to drink" the woman asked politely, "Elder flower tea if you have some" she smiled hopefully. The woman's stern look again fell away at the unusual request, but she grinned proudly and said "yes, I do" Have a seat and make yourself comfortable and I will have someone bring your breakfast.

Taurëwen nodded her thanks and turned to find a table, her eyes widen and her heart skipped a beat as she came face to face with the elf she only moments ago thought about ..... Rey she whispered, tilting her head slightly making sure it was really him and not a figment of her imagination.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Reynion mentally traced the patterns in the wood of the counter top in a futile attempt to get his mind off of his headache. It wasn't working. The patterns blurred and shifted, seeming to rearrange themselves into new ones. It made his eyes hurt. He shook his head, and rubbed his temples. Someone seemed to whisper his name and he turned, expecting to see Esgallhugwen or Lira, or even no one at all. Instead, he saw Taurewen.

She looked exactly as he remembered her, but he had the feeling that he didn't exactly fit the image she would have carried. It had been years of nightmares, and years of drinking in futile attempts to expunge those nightmares. He knew that he must look haggard and worn. Unconciously, he tried to straighten, to look less weary and more like the confident elf she'd first known.

Eru, why is she here now? I must look terrible, I haven't been sleeping well, I haven't been eating, what must she think of me? he thought, somewhat panicked. He blinked several times, trying to make certain that his eyes were not playing tricks on him.

"Tau-Taurewen?" he managed. "Is it really you, or am I delirious?"

[Beren87]

Beren lay in bed, his head pounding with pain. He had heard the sqwak of the roosters, at sun-up, knowing he should be out there tending to the garden. But somehow the noise had thrown a goose-downed pillow over his head, instead of trousers on his backside. The sun beamed in the open window, alerting his eyes to the cloudless day outside.

"Now I remember why I don't drink Ale..." he muttered to himself, shielding his eyes from the blinding light.

He arose from the bed finally, knowing he'd have to work double to do as much as he should before lunch. Yet the memories of the night before, flashing through his mind, were more then enough compensation for any labor throughout the day. He could almost feel the dew-laden grass, could almost hear the sweet sound of her laughter...

Except, his head pounded at the memory of any laughter, as the ales he had drank in celebration to himself struck back back with a vengance. He groaned as he dressed, his eyes squinting to see. He was certainly going to need coffee this morning, if he was ever going to get moving.

[ August 23, 2003: Message edited by: Beren87 ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman heard a muffled thump behind her, then a slow groan. Beren was up then. Turning, a cup of coffee, prepared in anticipation of this, in her hands to face the man who stood, rubbing his head, on the stairs.

Approaching, she held out the coffee, and he took it gratefully. "Good mornng, Beren," She said softly, so as not to hurt his head. The gardener murmured something in return as he sipped his coffee, sitting on a stool at the bar to drink it. Aman couldn't help but grin slightly as she turned away to take tje order of the next customer who had come to the bar the order breakfast - seems none of the men who stayed long term in the Green Dragon were able to get by completely without a hangover.

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik worked the rock and soap on his trousers, close to ripping the fabric, for the heat in his mind found its way to his arms. The beauty of the morning went unnoticed by Falowik as he raged and mulled, his eyes upon his chore.

She had to know he had no money for breakfast, sweet buns or hamshanks or what have you. Why 'Sir Falowik'? There was nothing about him that could suggest nobility. She had seen him for what he was, a needful, beggarly excuse of a man, and had given him things of her own. It meant that he was in her debt twice over: once for having taken things unpaid for; second for allowing her to know him in ways she could use to her advantage. He had bought trouble. The 'Sir Falowik' was a smear. It had to be. How else could he explain the lances of hot irritation he felt within upon hearing the name? But she had shown nothing but kindness, or so it had seemed to him in his weakness. What enchantment had she cast over him? He would have to be more careful.

And how was it that she came so near on this morning with him at such a disadvantage? What purpose did she hold in secret? I'll wait for you by the well, Sir Falowik Why? He could leave and never return and so be free of all this new trouble. No, he could not leave; he owed her too much.

Falowik finished cleaning his clothes, climbed out of the stream, dried, and clothed himself, and walked slowly, reluctantly, to the well to pay a little bit on his debt.

Uien was not at the well. A sigh of relief escaped him. He brought up the water filled bucket and cupping his hand, drank his fill. It might be all he filled his stomach with until he could find what little the earth offered to one whose eyes were trained to it.

"Good morning, Sir Falowik," said a voice lightly behind him. It was her. Rage at the falseness of the title lanced inside him like a hot knife. He steeled himself.

"Good morning, Lady." He turned and faced her, his own face set hard. Her smile was open and free, her bearing glad and winsome. At first. The smile left her eyes and lips, though she kept a semblance of it in place.

"I see the soap's virtue has done its weal upon you. Your hair is gold to match your name. Falowik. 'Malnar' in my speech." She seemed made of human flesh today, not at all a being of fire. Perhaps it was the power of the sun. Or maybe the night had brought an enchantment.

"I am in your debt, Lady. Name a way I can repay you." The semblance of a smile disappeared and her brow furrowed.

"You owe me nothing."

"You gave me a bundle from your possessions." Her eyes dimmed with disappointment, Falowik supposed. "And you know of me as no other does." Her eyes filled with compassion; he did not want that from her. She took a step toward him, her hand reaching to touch his arm. He backed away. She stopped and gazed at him, then let out a breath that seemed like a resignation.

"If pay me you must-" she lifted up her arms to the sky and turned one full circle "-then delight in the day! Let that be your payment."

"It changes nothing." His voice was harsh. He turned away from her, in the direction of the front doors of the Inn.

[Imladris]

Lira smiled in gratitude at the jobs Aman had offered her and, as soon as Aman was done serving the guests, said, "Thank you for your offer. I would be glad to sort the wines" -- sorting the wines in Thranduil's halls flashed through her mind -- "and I would not mind waitressing and making the room for Pio, unless Esgallhugwen would like to do some of those duties. Where is the wine?"

Aman led her into the room and Lira gazed with delight upon the many barrels of wine, all waiting to be sorted and tasted. As she tasted the first, a warmth kindled in her blood and tingled her toes.

Sorting was a happy chore, for it gave one time to be alone, to think of the world in general, and to meditate upon a problem. Lira went to it with a good will, very happy that she did not get drunk easily. She remembered the fun she had had with the other elves who helped with the wine business, the splash of water as they pushed the empty barrels into the rushing water that carried it down to the men of Dale. That was such a long time, when she still had lived in Mirkwood, when the thirteen dwarves had been there...when she had been very young.

[Envinyatar]

‘You look like you been ground up in Sandyman’s Old Mill,’ said Cook, pushing the sugared bun back toward him, glaring all the while. He picked it up and took a small bite to satisfy her, but she was having none of his mannish tricks. ‘I know you’re not going to rest like you should, so get some food in your belly to carry you along, you stubborn fool.’ She watched while he went through the motions of eating, his mind leagues away.

The bun finished, she poured him another cup of strong tea with honey, and laid a plateful of scrambled eggs in front of him. ‘Go on,’ she chided, ‘Beren collected those eggs from the hens just yesterday. You wouldn’t want to waste the fruits of his labors, would you?’

Her mothering was having the desired effect on him. He finished up the eggs. His appetite picking up halfway through the plate, he also managed a rasher of crisp Shire bacon, two slices of toast with thick strawberry jam, and a slice of melon. Sitting back in his chair, a fresh cup of tea cradled in his hands, he gave her the ghost of a smile. ‘No need to thank me,’ she said, sipping on a cup of her own. ‘Things always look better on a full stomach . . . leastways that’s what my Gran always told me, and I’ve always found it so.’

Soon, she was back at the stove, making platters of eggs and bacon for the guests at the Inn and directing Ruby and Buttercup in the making of toast and cutting up more melon. Derufin took the opportunity of this activity to slip out the back door. Buttercup winked at him as he did so, and cleared his dishes away with a wave of her hand.

It was too late to sleep now, or so he reasoned as he made his way to the stable. Uien had been up, he noted, and taken care of the horses. ‘Thank the stars,’ he thought to himself, ‘that her wandering feet brought her here!’

He stopped at the pump in the yard and drew himself a bucket of water for washing. No sense in inflicting the aftermath of his night’s hard ride on any who came near him. The sun was warm on the east side of the stable, and he was hidden from any who might come into the yard by a hedgerow that shielded him from view of those coming in from the pathway to the Inn. Stripping his shirt off, he bathed himself, washing away the dust from the road and the layer of sweat from his ride. His hands, as he soaped his face, brought him the message that he needed a shave. He reached in the open window of his room and grabbed the kit bag on the table near his bed. ‘I’ll have to do this blind,’ he chuckled to himself, hoping the razor would be kind enough to spare him any nicks. And indeed, there was only one tussle with the blade, and that near the small scar on the left of his jaw. And it was small, and quickly stanched with pressure. As a last measure he washed his hair. His old shirt stood in as towel and he dried himself off, pulling his clean hair back at the last with a thin leather cord.

Finished, he dumped the water along the hedgerow, and rinsing the bucket, left it to stand near the pump for someone else’s use. ‘I’ll wash this later,’ he told himself, rolling his dirty shirt into a ball and tossing it in a corner as he returned to his room to put on clean clothes.

Uien had been there, he noted. Picking up the star from the table he turned it carefully in his hands. What a gift she has . . . is . . . he amended, setting it next to the crane. He looked at his own rough hands and sighed, thinking how clumsy they were in comparison. Still, they are what I have, and they will have to do, won’t they?

Dressed, and ready for the new day, Derufin inspected the horses for any needs. The Inn pony had thrown a shoe, and he replaced it with a new one, giving Nettle an apple from the basket for good behavior. Satisfied, there was nothing more urgent, he retrieved his own carvings from under his cot and went out to the yard, to sit on the bench beneath the great tree.

The sturdy little wooden ship was finished, her mainsail bearing the pennant of the six-pointed star, affixed with linen thread borrowed from Ruby. In her hold were the figures of the crew he remembered from her stories, and some of the creatures she had spoken of they had met on their travels. Though often, he recalled, she had been exceedingly vague, as Elves can be, on the details of those encounters.

Taking out his knife, he began roughing in the outlines for the two of the last three figures he wanted to do. The smell of fragrant cedar shavings curled around his boots and clung to his lap as he worked. A boy of twelve years he thought, smiling to himself, just on the edge of young manhood . . . and his twin sister, her mother’s beauty already shining from the features of her face.

Lost in thought, and the feel of the wood as it turned in his hands, the cares of the day slipped away with the passing hours.

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ smilies/smile.gif NOTICE OF NEW GAME OPENING smilies/smile.gif ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Lingering Darkness – Ealasaid, Elora, Nerindel, Snowdog

The Discussion Thread for this Game is open now to take on characters.

Check it out HERE (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000105)

Please read the proposal carefully, see what characters are needed, and craft a well thought out Character Description and a First Post for the Game.

Should be an intriguing and interesting game!

~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

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

[Novardaion]

Sighing, Novardaion looked up at the sign of the Green Dragon. Looking disapointed he looks inside to see many hobbits hving a jolly time as they are drinking their ale. He sighs again.

"another country inn, I wish I was back home"

He thought back to the golden forest of Lothlorien, where he was merry and didn't have to travel the land alone. Having been accused for stealing jewerelly from the lady of the wood Galadriel he was banished for life.

He walked up to the bar and took a seat.

"A pint of your best ale barman"

[Dynaviir]

Dynaviir turned in his bed. The heat, unbearable, screamed at him, warning him to turn back. But he couldn't, not now. It was too far. This had to end now.

"S-Show yourself, you coward!"

The flame shined on his sword as he stood on the cliff. His sweat dripped from his forehead. He could barely move. He watched in terror as the beast rose before him, eyes like diamonds. He clutched his pendant with his free hand. This was it. If he failed now, all hope was lost.

He gaped in awe at the size of the fangs, at the red, scaly skin, unpiercable, and indestructable. The flame roared all around him. The creature rose up in front of him, and roared Fire, heat and intensitypoured down onto him. He dived to his right, bearly missing the flame. The heat burned him and he screamed. He fell down. His sword was burning, but he couldn't let go.

Then suddenly, out of the flames, a woman screamed. Somehow all the energy he had returned to him, and he leapt up. Just between the flames, somewhere, the women's eyes stared at him, fixated. He stared at her, horrified, as she burned.

He lifted himself and ran towards her. This was all for her. He couldn't live with himself. He had to save her.

He leapt off the rock and dived into the flames. The heat burned him, but he didn't light. He landed twleve feet below and kept running. He ran towards her.

"HANG ON!!" he screamed. "DON'T DIE!! NOT NOW!!"

She screamed in pain as the flames burned her alive. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn't bear this. Tears ran from his eyes as he stared through the blackness into her eyes, shining clearer and wet with tears. She cried, and she couldn't stop. Suddenly, she let go. She couldn't hold on anymore. The flame pulled her away. He screamed as he watched her figure engulfed in the blackness, ripped apart and pulled away. She reached out to him, screaming his name, tears flowing wildly. He ran for her, but she was too far. And then she fell, and was ash, and she spoke no more.

He stared in terror at where she had stood, and then he closed his eyes and screamed. Then suddenly, the flames took him. He choked. And in the darkness that ensued, he looked above him. Two naked figures, cloaked only in the night, stared down at him, laughing, with cruel voices. And then slowly, one of them sank down to him in the flames, and stared at him, smiling. Dynaviir fell back, the ground gave way. He knew who it was. And as he fell, he watched again as the images of the dying woman tore his mind apart.

Then Dynaviir woke in his bed. Panting, sweating. He realised he held the pillow, so tightly by his side, close to him. His eyes were wide and the pillows were wet. He reached out to his chest and grabbed his pendant. He pulled it to him. And then he collapsed, and he wept with sorrow.

[ August 23, 2003: Message edited by: Dynaviir ]

[Elora]

Uien recognised something painful in Falowik's face as he told her that nothing had been changed. She knew that longing and how bitterly it can twist all that follows in its wake. She knew what it was like to be trapped by circumstance and woe. Before she could practice caution or wisdom, she was speaking as her thoughts unfolded within her. Gone was the earlier good cheer. It was a fragile thing that faded in the face of other weights, her own and otherwise.

"I am sorry, Falowik. There is much I would change were I able," Uian said in a voice low and sorrowful. The stench of burning flesh arose as she stood there, the screech of iron and orcs, the bite of their fingers, the pain, endless pain there in the darkness beneath the mountains...

"What would you have changed," she asked, for surely if there was a way to lessen a burden he carried by way of remedy for the offence she had caused, she would do it. Uien raised her gaze from the grass by the well to where Falowik stood, frozen. He spun, face hard still and anger stamped on his face. Uien was still too lost to know her peril. She had seen faces stamped with such anger before, yet she did not stop herself now.

Falowik was presented with the rawness of her words. She was the same Elf, but what lay beneath the surface had slipped free in the morning light. Her eyes were windows of torment escaped from and yet not left behind. Belatedly Uien came to realise what she had said and she pressed fingers that shook slightly across her lips to stem the flow of words. Falowik was frowning at her.

"Who are you," he asked of her in a strained voice.
"It does not matter. Noone," she said softly, shaking her head as if she could forget it all. She dropped her hand to her side and her eyes to the grass once more. It was hard now to form the words, but she did.

"If I have caused you offence with my impertinence, good sir, then accept my humble apology. I will do all that I may and all that you permit to redress..." Uien dared but a brief glance up to meet Falowik's gaze, stricken as she was. "I... I have to go. I have troubled you too much," she whispered.

With that, Uien sketched a humble curtsy as best she could in her worn dress and all but fled to the stables, hair streaming behind her like a pennant on the wind. Uien blindly grabbed the nearest broom and began to frantically sweep the nearest stall, a veritable whirling storm of frenetic activity - anything to keep the other things at bay. Dust rose in a cloud around her, old straw scattered hither and thither, as she pushed it away with her broom urgently.

Uien paid little heed to the progress she was making nor to the tear of regret that traced a lonely path down a flushed cheek. In the midst of the cloud of rising debris, Uien murmured a single statement that barely floated over the sound of her sweeping out of the stable doors.

"Foolish as you are, it is no small wonder they left you behind." Many things could be changed, but that was one truth that could not be altered no matter how many times she tried to pull or prod at it or tear it apart. No matter if she buried it under another layer of dust or if she forgot for am=n all too brief sweet moment on a moonlit night.

[ August 24, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

After an hour and a bit of labelling and checking the first few shelves in the wine cellar (which seemed, in a twisty way, to extend backwards or down forever - Aman and Lira could only hope there weren't beverages stacked all the way back!), they stopped for a break, and were about to go upstairs to Cook to see if they could find a snack for elevenses - a tradition in the Shire which, both agreed, was not a bad one.

Aman put down the bottle of fine red 1425 from Buckland with a sigh, after redoing its label on parchment in her spidery black handwriting and securing it onto the bottle. Smiling at Lira, she straightened up, and was about to ask the elf is she was ready, before a cry, muffled by the floor, hit her ears. Lira didn't seem to have noticed particularly, humming a soft tune to herself, but Aman held up a hand.

"Listen," she murmured. Lira looked up, inclining her head, and sure enough, a moment later another cry came. This time Aman was almost able to distinguish words, but because of the well-carpeted and thick floors of the Inn, she wasn't quite able to understand them.

The sound had come from straight above them, and without another word, the Innkeeper gathered up her skirts and ran as fast as she could while trying not to slip up the narrow stairs, past the bar, ignoring the bemused look of Cook and Esgalhugwen, who Aman had sent to cook to give her something to do, and up the main stairs. She walked silently down the corridor, listening to any noise, and sure enough, there it was a sleepy muttering, then a gasp, coming from a room on her right.

Aman knocked carefully on the door. "Excuse me, sir, are you alright?"

Inkeeper's comment: Novardaion, welcome to the Downs, and to the Dragon, but the Innkeeper is Aman, a young woman from Rohan. Note to all: I will be away for a week until next Sunday. Thankyou

[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.

_____________________________________________

It is now early to mid morning (breakfast is still being served) of a pleasant mid-summer day in the Shire.

[piosenniel]

Nazgul

Please check your PM's (Private Messages).

~~ Pio, Shire Moderator

_____________________________________________

A reminder for everyone:

It is a pleasant morning to mid morning in the Shire on a mid-summer day

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik watched the Elf woman flee to the stables. You fool, thinking only of your debts! He had caused her pain and seen it in her eyes and by her shaking hand at her lips for that brief moment. An urge had arisen suddenly in him to declare all wrongs righted, all debts paid. He would rise to her aid and protection, to shield her from all the evils of the world. Fool, useless fool! Banish yourself to the wilderness, the sooner the better!

"No, fair one, you have not troubled me too much," he said so that only the breeze could hear, "only I could do that." He thought to run to the stable after her. He could not, for he had already made a ruin of any good thing that might have been, and he could not face her now. If only things could be different. So spoke his heart, though his mind could not form the words so. Instead, her words came back to him: What would you have changed? He did not know. The past was dead and gone. Himself he could not change. His life as a wanderer was fixed, once this trouble with the captured man was dealt with.

No.

Something was changed. He realized it the moment he came to himself and discovered that he stood yet by the well, staring into the stable. He had found a Light, and it was in the stable, and it was all the Light he knew. It had given him warmth where before had been a heart made of ice. And he cared about that Light as he had cared for nothing in years. Who are you? He had his answer already. She was Light. But now he was hungry to learn who this being was that came to him as Light, little knowing that she did, holding such power for hope, fragile as a day lily?

I will do all that I may and all that you permit to redress. He would permit anything that she thought of. He owed her that much, and gladly. She would come nigh again, and he would let her shine; maybe he could find ways to blow upon the coals, as it were, that she might shine the brighter.

He walked to the front doors of the Inn with a lightened step, and went inside. He still had no coin. Maybe he could offer to work for his food? He would see about that. And there was the matter of the man Eodwine, and his finding, and of clearing his own name of suspicion in that regard, though that meant less to Falowik than it had. What meant more was seeing that Light, and if it could be, making it so that she shone bright when he was near.

You old fool, he said to himself lightly, thinking of anyone in this way. But his heart was light with it, for his purpose was good and laid upon one other than himself, which it had not been for many a year.

He walked up to the bar and waited for the eye of one of those who worked here to land upon him.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen was guided gently inside the kitchen by Aman to see if Cook could give her some work to do. Lira and Aman had gone down to the winecellar for a while until a cry broke out up above.

Esgallhugwen looked a little bewildered as Aman raced up the stairs to see what was wrong.

Horrid images raced through her head at the cry. 'Fire!' Esgallhugwen uttered, Cook gave her an odd stare. Fire, she shuddered, lucky for her the fire in her room had been only a small Hobbit fire or she would not have gone near it. A large fire would not suit her at all, too many memories, the pyre that her home had become and the orcs used large fires to heat their blades and other torture devices... slashing her and beating her with the hot crude metal. Aside... aside, push it back, beat it back with the light!

Going back to the Inn kitchen, she stood by Cook waiting patiently to see if she had any duties that Esgallhugwen would be more than happy to help out. She needed something to keep her mind busy.

[Elora]

Uien let the rake rest in her grip and looked around the stable interior. The clean, sweet and simple scent of fresh straw wafted upon the air. She could hear the steady, rhythmic sounds of a knife on wood nearby. Derufin was carving, she realised, whilst she was out making all manner of noise. At least she had not disturbed him and that was a small comfort.

Also, the stable was cleaned and the fodder baskets for the night were stocked and waiting. There was nothing more to be done. She could not hide and skulk inside the stables any longer. Even this foolishness had to end. Uien replaced the rake and dared to venture back out into the sunlight of the Inn yard. Falowik was nowhere to be seen. This did not please her, even given her earlier impertinence, boldness, insensativity...

The list of wrongs rolled through her mind. Uien sighed and looked over to the tree that had watched over him during the night. Falowik had folded the blanket carefully and lodged it in the branches. Perhaps he was not gone afterall, Uien wondered. No, for he was a rare honest man and he would return the blanket to someone. Uien's spirit lightened a little.

She gazed up at the inn until her gaze was captured by the garden bed that ran along the porch on both sides of the front steps. Lavender, daisies, tulips and daffodils all nodded, but they were not alone. Adventurous grass had made forays into the bed, and the grass was not the only explorers trespassing. The idea of soil around her fingers was immensely appealing to Uien. The gift of nurturing life was so scarcely given, and Uien had seen too much of it robbed from the world.

Soon enough, Uien was on her knees before the outer corner of one garden bed. Her deft fingers worked nimbly as she tended the plants and soil. It had been her mother's habit to sing to the plants. Perhaps, for all Uien knew, her mother did so in Eldamar. What plants must grow there, round glittering Tirion? She did not know that either, and perhaps never would.

The Elf woman began to sing her mother's song to the flowers of the Green Dragon Inn, and to it's tidy hedges and vines that draped the porch rail posts. The sun was warm on her head and back as she worked and the morning was serene. Her thoughts untangled and smoothed further.

It was as she was tending a golden daisy bush that Uien paused. She cupped the bright blooms in her hand. "Laureä," she murmured, for the blooms were golden like Falowik's name and appearance. An idea for a beginning to the redress she owed him began to form. Uien picked a spray and rose, dusting soil from her skirts where she had been kneeling.

She crossed to the tree with the blanket nestled in its boughs like fruit. There she laid the spray of flawless blooms on the blanket. A beginning and a promise that she would somehow mend her error. Uien brushed the petals with the tips of her fingers gently, smiled at them and then returned to the garden. There was much to do and she had much to think on.

Onwards Uien went, singing as she bent over the garden, tending this and then that, smoothing the soil and soothing that which grew within it. By the time she had worked her way across the length of the garden beds, Uien felt a little calmer. It was easier to push the darkness aside in the sunshine of the morning. In the evening, there were the stars she so loved and the night.

Between now and then, she had to eat and find the hobbit that had accompanied Falowik. There was something she needed to say to the fellow that may also ease Falowik's lot after the trouble she had seemingly added to it. Uien stood, brushed the dirt from her fingers and wondered how to determine where Falowik's suspicious hobbit companion had bunked for the night.

"In the hobbit sized rooms," Uien murmured as she pondered. "Perhaps Aman will tell me should I ask." But, of course, to do that Uien had to venture inside. With skirts laden with soil, hands dirty, and Cooks wrath over another missed meal, Uien realised that this would prove more difficult to undertake than may appear. Besides, would the hobbit listen to anything she had to say when she looked as though she had recently rolled her way through a roadside ditch?

Uien knew that answer and she went in search of the solution. She needed to clean up in order to do anything else of value that day and that stream would serve well.

[Nerindel]

there was a moments silence where neither elf spoke but just regarded each other with uncertain eyes, then Reynion straightened slightly "Tau-Taurëwen?" he stammered slightly. "Is it you, or am I delirious?" he went on. She laughed lightly at the fact that the both thought the same thing. "No, my old friend you are not delirious" she said placing her hand on his arm to confirm that she was real and not some figment of his imagination.

"I am about to have breakfast will you not join me" she smiled hopefully. As he nodded his assent she slipped gracefully from the stool and made her way to a quiet table next to an empty open fire. As they sat down a younger hobbit than the one who had served her came up and placed in front of her a large bowl of mixed oats and fruits, drenched in ice cold milk and a plate with the plumpest blueberry muffin she had ever seen, then as the serving hobbit, placed down her tea, she inhaled deeply. She always loved the smell of freshly brewed elder flower tea.

As she looked up she saw the young hobbit woman enquiring if Reynion would like anything for breakfast. "Just coffee" he told her briskly. As she looked at him across the table a thousand questions flooded her mind; why did he leave?; why did he not say goodbye?; where had he been?; why had they had no word of him.......but as she looked into his grey eyes, she saw that his pain still lingered. "It has been a long time my friend and I have missed your company dearly" she lowered her head and filled her spoon with cereal so he could not see the pain in her eyes as she spoke.

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma stepped over the threshold of the inn. It was much unlike her home in The Wood of Green Leaves where it was cool and calm. The inn was hot and almost frenzied with chatter in several different languages. The early afternoon outside was warm; but inside a fire burned gloriously as Nuinyulma made her way to the bar. Her brown hair was thick and long and it glittered in the faint light as she made her way past the staring eyes of several men.

"Excuse me, I'd like a room for a few days," she said softly to the bar maid.

"Of course, ma dear. Will you be taking lunch and supper today? And breakfast on the morrow?"

"Yes. I think so. Thank you so much."

The elven-maid left the bar to go to a corner of the bustling room where she pulled up a chair and then removed her cloak to wait for the food which had been promised. She had not long to wait and before a plate of steaming roast potatoes, vegetables and chicken was laid before her along with a note pressed into her hand which read 'Please be aware that fighting is not permitted in The Green Dragon Inn. Your room is ready just ask myself (Ruby) when you are needing it'

Nuinyulma blushed. The sight of her bow, arrows and small silver dagger had obviously caused a stir. However, ignoring the stares she quietly ate her meal, savouring every mouthful- it was a long time since she had eaten such wonderful food.

After her meal, she sat listening to the folk talking about this and that- of small importance but nonetheless interesting. She smiled quietly to herself at the sight of a man by himself at the bar was joined by an pretty maiden and two men tellign each other stories of old or discussing King Elessar and his elven queen. Eventually, her body reminded her she needed sleep after going with little for so long, so she took her empty plate back to the bar and was led up to her room by the bar maid. It was beyond her satisfactions yet Ruby still had apologised confessing iot was the smallest room they had but the only one left.

As soon as she was settled, the pretty young elf fell into a deepest sleep since she had had since leaving her home.

[ August 25, 2003: Message edited by: elf-girl-63 ]

[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.

_____________________________________________

It is now mid morning going on noon of a pleasant mid-summer day in the Shire.

[piosenniel]

Cook, done with the making of breakfast, and the preparation for lunch now well in hand by her newly found assistant, Esgallhugwen, took off her apron and wandered out to the Common Room. Es, as she called her, her tongue refusing to wrap satisfactorily around the Elven name, had been instructed to get the fresh vegetables from Beren in the garden and make a large pot of soup for lunch. She could get out the cookies in the pantry to place on a large platter as a sweet treat for the diners, and she was to make sure Buttercup sliced up the loaves of fresh honey wheat bread and that the pots of honey and sweet butter were filled and ready.

Aman was busy in the cellar, organizing the wines for the upcoming party. ‘Less than a week now!’ she said to herself, smiling. Piosenniel and the little ones and her Mister would be here. Cook shivered in anticipation of seeing her old friend.

She could see Ruby making the rounds of the tables with ale and cider. Here and there people were drinking tea, and some, strangely enough, were just enjoying a glass of cool well water. ‘No accounting for tastes,’ she reminded herself, pulling a foaming pint of dark stout for herself.

One of the patrons, Falowik, she thought, trying to recall the name she had heard from Ruby and Buttercup’s gossip was standing at the end of the bar. She nodded to him and walked toward him. ‘Pockets all flat as griddle-cakes! Not got a penny to his name, I’ll bet,’ she thought, keeping her face bland as she approached him. ‘Looks fit enough, though. Might be able to give Derufin some help with the roof, I’ll bet. Don’t want it leaking on Mistress Piosenniel and her wee ones.’

‘Vinca Bunce,’ she said as she drew near him. ‘Or Cook, as I’m more likely to be called. You look like you had some question need answering. Can I help you?’

She stopped short, not wanting to crowd in on him, knowing most Big Folk were wary of any who came too close. She sipped her ale, and waited patiently for his response.

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik stood with hat in hand. Cook was an intimidating presence. Her eyes roved over him, not missing his empty pockets, he noticed. It was folks like her that made him especially nervous.

He stumbled over his tongue for starters, but managed to get out, "I have no coin but I'm willing to work for my food." He winced. That had been about as careful as tangled feet.

[ August 25, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Reynion sighed heavily. He knew exactly what she meant, but...well, he didn't want to subject her to any more reminder of that terrible mission. His dreams were terrible; he didn't want her to be around when one of the nightmares came on, she was so sensitized to that sort of thing. Stop fooling yoursel, he told himself, grimly. You know that the real reason you left was you were afraid of rejection. You were afraid she wouldn't want you. There was Orodhin, once... He sternly ordered himself to stop it. She was here, right beside him.

He inhaled the aroma of the coffee deeply. Perhaps it would wake him up for real. Eru knew he needed it. He raised the mug to his lips and sipped, then yelped and nearly dropped it. Certainly he set it down more roughly than was his wont. Wine was much colder and it didn't burn the tongue the way this stuff did. The throat, yes, the first few times one tried it, but not quite the same way.

Taurewen looked at him a little oddly, though he could see no concealed mirth in her lovely green eyes. "It's hot," he tried to explain, only feeling more foolish. He was unlucky enough to glance at the window to cover his embarrassment, and a fresh spasm of the headache stabbed through his temples. He put a hand to his eyes and grimaced.

[Ghost of The Gray Havens]

May Bracegurtle watched the elf maid with almond eyes. She moved quite fluidly, as if in a dance, her bow and arrows strapped to her back. She was quite unlike the chubby short hobbit lass that May was, and she felt a prick of jealousy toward the elf. The Stranger (Nuinyulma), ate gradually, her hair long and luxurious. It was wavy, unlike May's redish cork screw curls that fell to her shoulders.

May had been sent by her mother to fetch her father and brothers at the inn. When she arrived, she found they had already left and were making their way home. May lingered, however, watching the elf with curious eyes. Being just 20 years of age, May was obsessed with the outside world. She had a restlessness in her, her older brother would say, that could not be grounded.

May watched as the elf finished up her food in the corner, than proceeded to go to her room. Skirting the view of the bar maids and other guests, the little hobbit followed the beautiful elf as quietly as possible.

The elf came to her room that she had been given in exchange for a few coins and closed the door. May guessed that she was probably going to sleep. Hoping that her mother would not mind her being late for dinner, and praying that she would not get in too much trouble, May waited outside the elf's door. She was determined to meet this stranger.

[Elora]

Uien returned to the stable markedly cleaner than she had left it. Hair freshly washed, dried and combed and most of the damage to her dress washed out (that which could be washed out), she looked in on Derufin before returning to the inn. She found him still carving happily. Uien stood silent, watching for a moment. Derufin seemed happy. It was a shame to disturb him, still she fancied Cook would even have an inch of Derufin's hide if he missed a meal.

"Derufin," Uien said in a gentle voice. He frowned at what he was working on. Uien could see clean lines emerging already. It was an intricate piece of work, astonishing.
"I am sorry to trouble you, m'Lord," she continued on playfully, "but it is lunch and better me disturb you than Cook find you with one of her mixing spoons." Uien smiled at the stablemaster.

Derufin brushed some recently loosened wood shavings away absently and returned her smile. "No trouble," he replied easily, stretching his fingers from the work they had been doing for the past hours. Uien nodded at him.

"An intriguing piece, if you do not mind me saying. Far more advanced than the childish work I pass off. I would very much like to see it when it is finished," she said as Derufin glanced back down at his work. Uien then took a step back out the door and Derufin rose, setting the carving aside.

"I would very much like to see it when it is finished too," he said as he walked towards his door. Uien puzzled over that, not entirely sure what he meant. Afterall, surely he knew what it would look like already. As they walked up the front steps, Derufin glanced at the garden's newly turned earth and weed free borders.

"Someone has been busy," he commented. Uien nodded. "Yes, and I'll make a start on the vegetable garden after lunch, provided Mrs Bunce gives me her permission," she said cautiously. The idea of wading into Cook's garden without permission was not a pleasant one. Derufin chuckled as walked through the Inn door.

"Wise," is all he said. Standing at the counter was the woman in question. Mrs Bunce stood with her arms crossed before Falowik. Uien paused, uncertain as to what passed. Falowik did not look entirely comfortable. Cook glanced at Derufin as he entered, Uien trailing behind him.

"Ah, Stablemaster Derufin," she said using his proper title. Derufin looked somewhat cautious himself at that. "I have someone who may be able to help you with preparations for the upcoming vistors." Derufin seemed puzzled as he moved closer to where Cook and Falowik stood.

"Beren has already fixed the stable roof," he started. Cook dismissed that with a wave of her hand. Uien watched on closely all that unfolded.

"What do I care for the stable roof when my attic roof is still leaking," she said sternly. "Falowik is looking for some work." Cook glanced in askance at Uien, who was inexplicably hovering by Derufin's elbow, gazing at Falowik. Derufin crossed his arms and considered the matter. Cook, her work on that done, moved onto the next order of business.

"And here she finally is. Just where have you been, Uien? Second Breakfast finished over an hour ago." Before Uien could open her mouth in protest, the unstoppable Mrs Bunce had hold of her elbow and was carting her away.

"Come, come! I can't you have fainting away in the middle of the lunch rush. Elf maidens cluttering up the floor will put our customers off their food. I won't stand for it." Cook pushed her firmly in the direction of the kitchen, propelling Uien towards the doors. Uien managed to stop with grace prior to shooting through them. She turned to look back to where Derufin and Falowik stood.

"Go on, Miss! Shoo!" Cook waved her hands at her. Uien shot a hapless smile and a nod at Derufin, the only way to get her thoughts on the matter the Stablemaster considered to him from across the room. When her gaze shifted to Falowik, her smile became shy.

"Quickly now Uien," Cook said in an exasperated voice. Uien acquiesed and the kitchen doors closed behind her as Cook shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into the girl today." The fact that Uien was by no means a girl, even by her own people's measures, did not seem to make a whit of difference to Mrs Bunce.

In the kitchens, Uien darted about between the Hobbits, gathering food, plates and odds and ends to bring back out. It was another way she could make amends. If Derufin took him on, and that was what Falowik wished, then she could perhaps bring lunch to him.

Small kindnesses such things were, but in a large world that can be cold, small kindnesses were not so small. So the tray was laden with bread, cheeses, fruit, cold meat and all the accoutrements that accompany lunch. As she gathered, Uien's smile grew. Falowik was staying a little, and that made her glader than anything.

[piosenniel]

Everyone please note:

It is now mid morning going on noon of a pleasant mid-summer day in the Shire.

Cook's assistant is just making soup for lunch. Breakfast is just over.

[Envinyatar]

‘The woman is a born organizer,’ said Derufin, nodding in the direction of Cook as she sailed through the doors of the kitchen, Uien in tow. ‘Come, sit with me for a while, if you will. Cook is determined that you should be “found useful”, and suggested in her inevitably direct way that the Inn’s roof needs patching up and reshingling.’ He looked at Falowik, trying to get a read on what the man was thinking.

Ruby passed by with a flagon of nut brown ale and plunked two mugs down in front of them. Derufin waved her off, saying he needed a clear head for the afternoon, and could she bring him a mug of cool cider instead. He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankle beneath the table. ‘To be honest, I could use the help if you are going to be around over the next week,’ he began, his eyes catching sight of Uien as she struggled through the kitchen door with a platter piled high with food. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, standing up. ‘I see a friend in need of assistance.’

So focused was she on transporting the platter of food safely, that she did not see Derufin as he approached. ‘Are we expecting an onslaught of hungry dragons?’ he asked, winking at her as he took the tray from her slender hands. Startled, she looked at him, her face turning a fetching shade of pink.

‘Won’t you sit with us, Uien?’ His words coaxed her along to the table where Falowik sat. ‘Master Falowik is thinking over the offer I’ve put to him. The Inn roof does need shingling, and some of the supports beneath it need to be replaced, I think. It’s the eastern end of it, over the attic. Guests are coming next week. And it won’t do to have them exposed to the elements.’ He sat the platter of foodstuffs in the center of the table, and pulled out the chair for Uien, bidding her take her seat.

‘You might as well relent, and say you’ll do it,’ he said, turning back to Falowik. ‘Cook will hound us both 'til it’s done to her satisfaction.’ He leaned toward Uien, offering her the plate first. ‘And you, you’re nimble and sure footed – how about being the roofer’s assistant. Two pair of hands will make the work go more quickly . . .’

[Imladris]

Lira followed the Innkeeper up the stairs as she heard the crying of the person in the room. It was a nightmare, of that Lira was sure. She could almost feel his terror and his anger. Lira's muscles tightened as she heard Aman ask if he was alright. No answer came from within, and soon, all was silent. Lira slowly crept down the stairs again and made her way towards the wine cellar, stopped, and decided to visit Merkaliel, her mare.

Merkaliel neighed her welcome, and Lira whinnied back, her blue eyes dancing as she saw the silver mare prance in delight, her soft mane glittering in the golden rays as it danced in the light breeze. Laughing, Lira untied a soft brown saddle bag and withdrew a red apple which she fed to her horse.

Merkaliel munched it thankfully and nuzzled Lira's hand for more when she had finished. "No more for you, Merkaliel," said Lira, stroking the mare's grey muzzle. Namarie, Mellon," she whispered, her hand trailing from the horse's withers as she skipped back towards the wine cellar and resumed the labeling.

Aman had been teaching her how to label the wines, and Lira did it quickly and easily. It was dusky in the cellar, and a sense of loneliness seemed to linger within. Lira breathed deeply, the scent of the wine tickling her nostrils and set to work as she dreamed and sang of the birds that flew in the blue sky, the trees that played with the wind, and the flowers that scented the meadows with sweet fragrance.

[Esgallhugwen]

Before Esgallhugwen could even reply, cook had already ordered to get the fresh vegetables from Beren in the garden and make a large pot of soup for lunch. She could get out the cookies in the pantry to place on a large platter as a sweet treat for the diners, and she was to make sure Buttercup sliced up the loaves of fresh honey wheat bread and that the pots of honey and sweet butter were filled and ready.

No problem she thought as the Cook rushed out of the kitchen tending to other things that needed to be done. You will not be able to work with the cloak and sword at your side! the voice in her head laughed mockingly you who wishes to hide from all those who see you! You think you can hide? It is impossible, and what are you hiding from, there're all dead, no one can find you.

Esgallhugwen's teeth clenched together in frustration. It cannot be seen that they all died I do not know that! I only worry that he is not dead, how am I to know he perished in the flames, he could be looking for me right now! The voice stopped the mockery and fell silent, knowing all too well the peril that plagued her.

Miss Bunce called her E's, Esgallhugwen laughed at this she knew not many of the little people would be able to pronounce it in their tongue but that bothered her little. She heard of the trouble you could get yourself into if you didn't listen to the Cook. Especially if you missed a meal.

Just at that thought, an Elf maid was pushed into the kitchen with Miss Bunce firing off orders for her to eat something and that they didn't need Elf maidens littering the floor of the Inn from lack of food. The caught each others glance before she rushed out the door again with a huge platter of food.

Esgallhugwen just stood there; she knew how to cook, but where could she find Beren? Or should she just go to the garden and start picking vegetables. First she should rid herself of any clothing or items that would only make it more unbearable to cook in the already hot kitchen, she knew of the risk but doubted very much that anyone that did not work here would charge in; no one knew her here that would perhaps allow her to go unoticed. Though she had been reckless in the past.

She hoped there were no spies and that no one would be intrigued to ask her questions she dared not to answer.

[Elora]

Uien had been distracted by the long look Esgallhugwen gave her as she emerged from the kitchen. Derufin's arrival took her by surprise, the tray relieved from her grip by his own certain and stronger grasp. "Thank you Derufin," she said as he asked her about dragon's feasts. He was smiling, and Uien blushed. Before she could admit to her ignorance about the finer culinary preferences of dragons, he was coaxing her back to the table. Her cheeks retained their delicate flush as she followed, watching Falowik as she approached.

She sat, accepted a plate from Derufin and did all she could to regain her composure. It seemed to slip through her fingers and prove her a fool at the most important moments, such as when she felt Falowik's glance brush past her. He surely must think her a fool, given what had passed already at the well. When Derufin made his suggestion, Uien blinked in surprise and waited for Falowik to immediately demur the proposition. Were she him, she would.

Roofer's Assistant! Uien stared at her plate, momentarily at a loss and preoccupied. Falowik surely would not wish her to assist. Perched upon a roof, it did not do well to have one who so irritated and angered you to assist. Derufin, when Uien glanced up at him, seemed rather pleased with himself at the solution. Falowik was busy thinking it over, throwing her a cautious glance.

Hoping to not simply confound matters further, Uien ventured a reply on the matter. "Gladly I will help, if that meets with Master Falowik's pleasure." Hope that this was so lit in her face as she nodded her acceptance. Internally, Uien reviewed what she knew of shingling. There had not been much call for that sort of craft in Lothlorien. She'd have to learn, and quickly too, in order to redeem herself. Falowik was gazing at the dragon's feast that Uien had assembled.

"What say you, Falowik," she prompted gently. "The view from the roof is breathtaking," she added with a smile. Derufin looked at her in askance.

"Been there recently, Uien," he asked, wondering why the Elf might possibly be climbing on Inn rooves. Uien shrugged lightly and handed the Stablemaster a piece of bread.

"The view from the hayloft is dazzling enough, Derufin. From the vantage of the roof it would be bewitching," she replied, then passing a piece of bread to set on Falowik's plate. Uien made a mental note to see if this was so. Imagine, so close to the stars at twilight... That would be a sight to see. She flashed a cheerful grin at Derufin and began to set out the cold roast beef on their plates. Provided it suited Falowik, the job could be a enjoyable one. Between the view and the opportunity to work with the golden haired Man, Uien's heart lifted. She could learn, and quickly if it came to it, about shingling and many other other things.

As she did swiftly contemplated, Uien noticed the movement of Esgallhugwen. She recalled the long look the other Elf had traded with her. She did not know quite what it meant. Did Esgallhugwen know something? Uien had turned to watch the other Elf leave in search of Beren, silently watchful and pensive. Ruby returned to the table with cider in three mugs, noticing Uien's long gaze. The Hobbit shook her head. First she was darting about the kitchen building a mountain of food, then she was sitting before her plate staring over her shoulder, lunch untouched.

It was all rather strange, but to Ruby Uien had rarely been straightforward. With a shake of her Hobbit head, Ruby departed once more. Uien turned back to the table as Falowik made his reply. Her face was bright with the hope that she could somehow redeem herself in his sights by proving herself of some use. If it was to be by shingling, then Uien would do all that she could in proving her value by that.

[littlemanpoet]

Derufin got up from the table after making his offer. A week! Roofing? Falowik had never done such a thing. Shelter over his or anyone's head had been far from his mind for many years now. He had asked for means to pay for one meal, not used to thinking any further in advance than the next step, or deed, or trail. To think of a whole day was a great reach. To think of a week at a time? It was beyond his reckoning. These people were offering him a roof over his head and board before him for seven full days! Were they mad? They didn't even know him.

Derufin came back. Uien was with him. She sat between the two men, and all the world shifted toward the lodestone. She outshone all others in the room. Falowik was hard pressed to keep a clear thought in his head. Derufin was leaning toward the Light, saying something about a roofer's assistant. Uien stared at her plate, and the sun seemed to hide behind clouds. Falowik's tongue refused to release itself from the roof of his mouth. Uien's next words took him by surprise. She is concerned whether it pleases me? Her face shone almost as brightly as it had the night before.

Am I staring? He pulled his eyes away. You're supposed to be thinking about whether to accept the man's offer, fool. Uien and Derufin were joking back and forth, free and easy with each other. Falowik's throat caught as he wished that he could be that easy with her, or with anyone.

But he remembered that he may well have another man's fate in his hands. To stay an entire week might be to ensure that man's death! He could not bear to have that on his conscience. These people spoke well of this King's messenger, a harpist by all accounts. It had fallen to Falowik to do what he could for this man, and now he wanted to meet him if he might. He could not stay here the week. At most, for half a day; enough time to earn the meal he was staring at.

Uien set a piece of bread on Falowik's plate. His eye followed the hand rather than the bread. He stopped staring and began to eat the bread her hand had touched. It loosened his tongue right well, stumbling over itself trying to find the right way to speak his thought. You oaf! he told himself as he listened to his tongue splatter sounds like broken dishware on the floor.

"I - it would - please me - I mean, I would be honored to work beside you-" he was looking at Uien, he realized, and quickly forced his glance toward Derufin "-sir. But the man who is lost in the wilderness - I must do right by him. I fear a week would be too long."

A loud voice interrupted them.

"There you are, wanderer! Found yourself another free meal, I take it!" It was that shirriff hobbit, the untrusting one. Falco Buffoon or something. "I hope he's behaved hisself proper under your care, Master Derufin. Best hurry up with your breakfast, wanderer, as we've business to take care of. I hope you remember the matter of a missing man, reported by yourself, I recall? Have you made any recruits yet, as you told me you planned on doing? Or have you just been dallying?" He glanced at Uien and Derufin. "Mind if I sit down?" He took a seat. "You gonna eat all that? Seeing as it's free food-" He reached over to grab a heel of bread from Falowik's plate.

Falowik rose suddenly from his place, staring at the hobbit in rage. "I -" Do not make excuses to this fool, old man, he'll just twist them. "As soon as I have paid for my meal in labor, I am ready to join the search, Master Hobbit." He faced Derufin. "As soon as you are ready, good sir." He turned to Uien. "I - it has been my honor and pleasure, Fair One." He was unable to keep the longing out of his eyes, so he looked away as quickly as he could and walked outside, ignoring the hoots of the fool hobbit and his mocking words about seeing the way he'd looked at her.

His feet did not stop, and he found himself by the tree where he had slept, and where she had - done whatever wonder she had done. There were flowers, still fresh and blooming, lying on the blanket he had set carefully in the bough of the tree. He wondered how they might have gotten there. The wind could not have blown them in just such a way; they would have had to be placed so. Only one person knew he had been there. His rage at the foolish hobbit was gone, his heart lightened for knowing she had thought of him. But the lightness fled quickly, for he would have to leave, and soon. At least he would share a few hours with this Elf woman passing fair. He had heard the legend of Beren and Luthien, and now it seemed odd to him that there were so few unions of Man and Elf woman in all the ages of Middle Earth. But no, it was not to be so wondered, for surely most Elven women did not so humble themselves. Then why did she? He had much to learn in a short time.

[ August 26, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Elora]

Uien was silent as Falowik spoke, but her heart was far from quiet. For fear she would further shame herself, she kept her gaze locked on her plate yet what passed through her was plainly writ on her face. No sooner was she about to burst out of her silence with a question concerning the lost man than did the Hobbit of the prior evening arrive and seat himself at the table.

Suspicion and impatience marked his manner as he reached for the bread upon Falowik's plate. Anger flared inexplicably within her at the offence that simmered beneath his words. Appearances could be most deceiving. Before she could speak, Falowik had risen and left. She managed only to glance up at him, yet he could not stay. He held her gaze and turned and left.

Uien found herself all but glowing with outrage. When she turned back to the Hobbit, she all but threw her own bread upon his plate. Derufin's brows shot up in surprise. Falco looked baffled and then decidedly put out as he met her eyes. Her gaze was stern and forbidding.

"Master Hobbit, I am unfamiliar with the laws of this land. Tell me, if you would be so kind, as to whether it is true that to be a wanderer is to be guilty of some crime," she asked in a cool voice. Falco stared at her blankly.

"I'm not sure I take your meaning..." he started, stumbling for her name from the night before. She let him grasp for it futilely. Derfuin placed a warning hand on her arm which Uien paid no heed to. The injustice steeled her voice and tempered it further and she unconsciously drew to herself the lofty air that accompanied many of Lothlorien's folk to the eyes of the outside world.

"Falowik seems to stand in some suspicion, and his crime seems to be that of a wanderer who has reported a Man missing," Uien intoned. She fixed Falco with a keen stare. "Is not the world a cold enough place as it is? Must we expect treachery and misdeed of all simply because they are strange to us? Is the evil of Sauron's malice to continue to live, driving the Free Peoples apart through lingering mistrust?"

Even if Falco had answers for her questions, Uien had little inclination to accord them any attention. Her mind worked swiftly. The Shiriff was bristling by this stage. "I'll not have an Elf accuse me of unfairness," he objected in a rising voice.

"Then who will be permitted to question you? Tell me so that it may be so," Uien shot back fiercely. Her temper was loose and ranging widely, Falco firmly in her sights. Derufin, shocked by the outburst of his usually quiet assistant found a space into which intervene. "Come now, Uien... Master Shiriff. Is there any need for us to come to argument here?"

Uien had taken a deep breath and leant back from the table. Falco was muttering about imperious and arrogant Elves. "Yes," replied Uien bitterly, "For here, this day, it is Falowik who is treated as a foe for no more than being a stranger to these lands. In another place, in the past, it was I who wandered into lands unfriedly and by good deed comdemned myself. A slippery slope we are on, and I will be damned if I will see us slide into yet more divisions at some point in the future!

A war was not fought for such petty squabbles as this!" Derufin stared hard at Uien, perhaps in reproach. Uien met the gaze calmly, her mind made. "Volunteers, you say Master Falco, are to be gathered to search for the missing Man. You have another, and yes, she is a wanderer too. Mark me well!"

With that Uien stood. "If he is injured, you will need a healer, provided I can be trusted. And if I can, then so too can Falowik!" Uien gathered her skirts to her as though they were rich velvets. Falco and Derufin stared up at her, Falco's mouth slightly ajar as he struggled to deal with the Elf. If Uien was Noldorin in one trait, it was in her resolute counsel. The only individuals who had managed to alter it upon occassion in the past had long left her behind now.

"You may have my share also. I find I have no appetite," she said. Uien nodded to Derufin, favoured the Shiriff with a long, challenging gaze and swept from the Inn with her chin held high. Uien made one detour to the stables to fetch her cloak and her collection of dried herbs. Throwing the cloak around her shoulders, she made then for where Falowik stood by his tree.

He marked the high spirits in her eyes and he glanced at the small pack that hung from one hand. "I volunteered," Uien said simply. "Wanderers sometimes need to band together to smooth the road ahead." Uien smiled gently, glancing back at the Inn. "I think the Shiriff will be ill-pleased with me after my words, and likely Derufin as well, but he is not so foolish as to turn away the aid of a healer when a Man is missing in the wilds."

Falowik studied her as she pushed a strand of hair from her face. "Have I displeased you," she asked hesitantly, suddenly unsure. He shook his head uncertainly, gaze straying to the flowers he had found.

"I am not sure I understand," he began, gaze swinging back to her. "Is this wise?"

Uien's lips curved into a smile once more. "I am not sure I understand either. But sometimes what is wise and what should be done are not the same thing. I am not so learned as to be Wise, but the path to be taken shines so that I cannot turn away from it." Her gaze was intent and steady upon Falowik, taking in his features.

"If you seek labour to pay off the debt of a mouthful of bread, perhaps you could aid me to replentish my supply of herbs. I hope to be prepared for whatever the search may find." Uien held up her small pack, the scent of herbs delicately rising, and held her other hand out to Falowik. Her fingers yearned towards him, beckoning.

[Envinyatar]

‘You’re a thick-headed Hobbit, Falco!’ The well muscled forearm of Cook swept round from behind the startled Shiriff. She had heard the exchange and did not approve of his handling of it. One did not run roughshod over patrons and staff at the Inn, with the exception of Cook, that is.

‘Best you be off now to see Halfred in his office down the road.’ Her thick fingered hand plucked the tray of food from before him. ‘Now drink up, and get to your business of finding Mister Eodwine.’ She snatched the mug as soon as its bottom hit back on the table top. ‘Go on now!’ she said with a steely tone of command in her voice. ‘You won’t be finding him with your back end glued to a chair in the Inn.’

Ear tips flushing crimson, the Hobbit stood with as much dignity as he could muster and marched for the door. He gave a quick, sly smile to Ruby as he passed her in her rounds with the ale and cider. She gave him a cold smile, and a hmmmph of displeasure. ‘A fair enough face and figure,’ she thought to herself, as she watched him march out the door. ‘But a little lordly in his manner.’

Derufin sat back in his chair, an amused look on his face. Cook looked eye to eye at the seated man, and he straightened up, wiping the smile from his face.

‘Foul business after all that trouble in the Great War, for Little and Big Folk to be squabbling over trifles,’ she chided him. ‘Falco’s off to do his job, Uien’s gone off in a snit, as has the new man . . . no time for you to be sitting about either. The stables need seeing to, I’m sure. And once you’re done there, I want that roof looked at over the eastern part of the attic. Mistress Piosenniel and her wee ones will be here all too soon. And there’ll be the piper to pay if I have to drag this old body up the ladder and fix the problem myself!’

‘Yes, ma’am!’ replied the man, the manners he learned at his mother’s knee returning to him at Cook’s admonishment. He stood, grabbing, some bread, ham, and cheese from the platter she still held in her hands, and hurried out the door.

[ August 27, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Imladris]

Lira stretched and turned her head towards the sun, which was nearing her zenith. "I must fetch a bite to eat," she said, hasitly rising and skipping out of the cellar. "Else Cook will have a fuss," she said, smiling.

As she munched upon a piece of bread, she saw a strange man, a wanderer, the stablemaster, Uien, the elf maiden, and another hobbit having some sort of disagreement. Frowning, Lira followed the man with her eyes as he left the table and strode to the door, saw the anger spark in Uien's eyes as she shot a cold reply to the hobbit, and watched her leave as well. Lira sighed and curled her bread into a ball: all appetite had left her as she had watched the exchange.

Anger was a strange thing, Lira mused as she strolled to the stable and began to tear the ball apart and scatter the pieces upon the ground for the birds. She turned and saw the wanderer standing beside a tree and saw Uien approach him. A smile glowed upon Lira's face as she watched them: the elf helping a wounded man...a man wounded in spirit.

After the bread had been sprinkled upon the green grass, Lira decided that she must again return to her duties. She danced and twirled across the plush lawn, reveling in the beauty of the sun and to the singing of the birds.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen could not help overhearing the argument, she was sure she wasn't the only one. The Elf maiden and a Hobbit had a disagreement (which was the polite way to put it) the Elf had defended the stranger from the shirriff's rude comments, a fire came out in her that Esgallhugwen had not seen in a long time.

It being none of her business and not wanting to get involved with strangers; all but Lira, she returned to the shedding of uneeded clothing. She folded it gently and went out the back way placing it in Morsereg's stall.

Lunch was nearing for the Hobbits and Beren was still no where to be seen, even for elvish eyes. Which means he is still in bed or out elsewhere, so Esgallhugwen took to the garden in search of vegetables, before hand she had already started to heat up the water and had set out the cookies as requested by Cook. As she dug up some of the carrots the rich smell of earth entered her nose tingling her senses, she smiled gently, taking pleasure in simple things.

Not too long afterwards she had piled what was needed in a basket and was heading towards the kitchen, humming softly to herself an old elvish hyme. Esgallhugwen chopped up the vegetables, remembering to make thick chunks like the ones that were in the soup she had devoured last night.

Now all that's left is to boil them, then find Buttercup to slice the loaves of bread. Esgallhugwen had wondered where the Elf Uien had gone to, to see the strange man more than likely. It was right for her do to so; there was something between them that only grew stronger.

You are quite nosy for an Elf that has no business concerning herself with affairs that are not her own! But you do humble yourself by chopping vegetables instead of cleaving orc's heads, no matter you will eventually come around and go on the hunt again... before they come to you, before he comes to you. Esgallhugwen busied herself with the task in front of her.

I do not humble myself by cooking for people, nor do I linger and sit idle for my father to find me and have his way with me. I command you to keep silent I am in no need of your malicious voice mocking me with ill words and threats. If I had a way I would cleave you in two!
Esgallhugwen did not have two personalities but often took counsel with herself, she would always criticise herself, warning against being to open towards others in case of betrayal. Those thoughts she kept very close and always had them in mind.

[Nurumaiel]

Hamson sat at a table, taking in the delicious smells of food cooking and trying to ignore the hunger in his stomach. Since he had paid all his money for a room, he had had none left to purchase even a small breakfast. What was he still doing at the inn, anyway? He should have been home by now after escaping Melilot. Except for that one minor problem... he hadn't escaped Melilot.

He risked a glance at her, careful that she would not see him. She was sitting at a table across the room. Her blue eyes were still alive with excitement, her freckled cheeks flushed and triumphant. So she had won that round. Hamson shrugged and began tracing patterns on the worn wood of the table, smiling softly. Well, he had other plans. Maybe the first one didn't work, but that wasn't the end. He would get rid of Melilot. He'd escape somehow.

But the night before... A frown came to his face as he thought back to it. How could she have possibly known what he was scheming? He hadn't spoken to anyone at the inn, besides to get a room for the night, and he hadn't mentioned his plan then. It was impossible. Melilot didn't read his thoughts, did she?

The evening before Hamson had gone up to his room as soon as the sky became completely dark. Poor Melilot had been so infuriated when he had told her good night in a too-innocent voice. He had even gone so low as to kiss her cheek. He had pretended to head off to his room, but in reality he had ducked behind a table while she wasn't looking at him. From there he could see all her actions. She had gone up to the counter and, trying to sound reasonable, asked if there were any rooms available. When the answer was 'yes,' the look of triumph on her face was extreme. "Well, reserve a room for me," she said. "I'll be back to take it soon, and don't worry, I'll pay." Then she had swept out of the inn.

Hamson had gone to his room and sat awake on his bed until midnight came along. Positive that Melilot would have claimed her room and gone to sleep by that time, he jumped the short distance out his window. Chuckling with wild delight, he had run around the corner of the inn towards the road. Oh, what terror had run through him when, upon turning the corner, he had found Melilot, hands on hips, grinning insanely at him. Thinking about it now, he wasn't quite sure if the terror had been from actually finding her there or from the madness of her grin.

"Hamson Cotton, what are you doing out here at this hour?" she had demanded coolly, looking up at the sky.

"I think I should ask you that," Hamson had gasped weakly. "What are you doing out here."

"I don't see what business that is of yours," Melilot replied, turning her blue eyes back to him. "But, Hamson, I'm dying of curiosity."

"Then die, and good riddance," Hamson muttered, trying to step past her. She slid over so she was in front of him again, and Hamson began to wonder if he were dealing with an insane hobbit or a snake in disguise.

"Were you running away?"

In a desperate attempt to get free from her, he had said, "Melilot, you're a pretty girl. You don't want my old hole out in Buckland. You want a hole somewhere civilized, like here in Bywater." He could have kicked himself. How weak and cowardly to bribe her!

She ignored him. "Were you running away?" she asked again, stepping closer, an evil glint in her eyes.

A little silence, then, "I was escaping," he grumbled at last, deciding stubborn silence wouldn't free him.

"It's the same thing."

"No, it's not. If I ran away it would be because I was afraid of you. Escaping from you means I'm trying to be free from captivity." His sulky matter disappeared and his eyes flashed defiantly. "Melilot Sackville-Baggins," he said in a low, deliberate voice. "I wish you would disappear."

"I'm not disappearing until you give me that hole," she nearly spat at him. "And then I'll be disappearing into it, and you will be disappearing out of it."

"Go throw yourself in the Pond," Hamson muttered, not caring if he were being rude or not as he shoved her aside and strode past her. He had stalked over to the door only to find that it was locked. He supposed if he knocked someone would answer, but he didn't want to cause the trouble. It would be just as easy to climb back through his window. Retracing his steps, he was just climbing in when he heard Melilot call out, "Oh, Hamson, the door is locked and I need to get inn."

He grinned cruelly, and before disappearing into his room called out, "G'night, dear! Have sweet dreams!" Then he had closed and locked the window so she couldn't climb in and punch him around. You never knew with Melilot. Normally she acted like the perfect lady, but when she was angry she had one of the hardest fists in the Shire.

Now as Hamson sat in the Green Dragon inn the following morning, tracing patterns on the table he was sitting at, he grinned and called out the the young hobbit lass sitting across the room from him, "Melilot, did you have a good sleep?"

She stood up and walked slowly towards him. When she reached his table and set her hands on it and leaned forward till she was just an inch away from his face. "Hamson, go jump in the Pond," she snarled. "I hope you drown."

"Mel," he continued in a honey-sweet voice, "do you have money for dinner."

"Yes, I do," she replied, glancing at him. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said. "I don't." He looked hopefully at her, but she shook her head with a mock expression of sadness on her face and returned to her own table. Chuckling to himself, he called out to her that he was going home to get some money. He didn't mention the other thing he was going to get. If the lad had any sense, he would have run for it while he had the chance, but he had begun the war with Melilot and now he wanted to finish it. At his home, he grabbed enough money for dinner and two more days at the Green Dragon, and, exiting through the kitchen door, his mother didn't even notice her pepper disappear.

[littlemanpoet]

Am I in a dream? Falowik thought. Uien's hand reached to him. Maybe a wondrous dream has become real. He watched his hand come up to hers and enfold it. Her hand was warm to the touch. He could not help but smile, nor did he wish to keep a straight face. She is my joy! He could not bring himself to speak his thought; it presumed too much. He had met her not a half day ago.

...the path to be taken shines so that I cannot turn away from it. Her words were written upon his memory; words of hope. A thought came to him, one most fitting to be spoken, for it did not presume too much, and might serve to brighten her yet the more.

"It is you that gives the light to the path that shines, Fair One." He was surprised by the warm tembre in his own voice, which had for years sounded harsh in his ears. It was her doing. She smiled the more and quickened their pace, and he matched it.

"I'm glad that you will join in the search," Falowik said.

"As am I, Falowik."

"I fear that Eodwine may not still be alive and that I've dallied too long."

"May it not be so. We shall do our best to find him and see to his weal."

His heart was full. They searched for herbs together, and his knowledge of the local varieties made her selections sure, for she knew well what she was after.

"I did promise Derufin to help with the roof for half a day," he said when her bag was almost full. "I should return and make good."

[Elora]

"Of course," Uien replied to Falowik with a warm smile. A man of his word. Hers was not the only light of the path that stretched before her feet. It was mingled and golden. She drew the pack closed, securing the tie and slinging it back over one shoulder, measuring carefully her next words.

"Only one thing would I ask of you, Laurëatan." Falowik stilled, the midday light gilding his features. "Will you not use my name? Uien is not as contestable as Fair One." She smiled shyly at her request, Falowik somewhat surprised. His brow furrowed as he examined her face carefully.

"If I have caused offence with Fair-," he replied. Uien shook her head, placing a reassuring hand upon his arm as she returned his earnest gaze with her own clear eyes.

"I would hear how it sounds in your voice," she said shyly, flushing somewhat with her confession. "Please, it would please me greatly" she added. Falowik was silent for a moment, long enough for Uien to wonder if somehow she had again offended him. Then came what she wanted to hear.

"Uien," Falowik said, slowly at first as though tasting the sounds of her name. A smile blossomed on her face at the sound of his voice in her name. "Uien," he repeated, a smile of his own growing as he saw her respond. She closed her eyes and let it resonate within her mind.

"Yes," she sighed as her eyes drifted open again, her touch still resting on Falowik's arm. He took her hand up in his own, wrapping his strong hands around it and studied it. What he made of it, Uien could only guess at, for her hands had long ago left the idle pasttimes of her youth and had been set to the purpose of surviving for long years. Yet, as he studied, the years melted away and it was as she remembered.

Around them the trees swayed softly, the sky flawless and blue overhead. Time stretched infinitely in that moment. There was only the thrum of her heart, the sure warmth and strength of his hands held in subtle control around her own and the fairness of his face, his voice and his spirit that looked back at her through his eyes. The breeze tugged at her hair, lifting it back from her face.

Uien herself found drawn closer, a tide carried her and without struggle she followed. Further and deeper into the time that stretched around them, into the man that stood before her. The longing was in his eyes, and her own. She watched him wrestle with it. Then again his voice rumbled through her.

"The roof," Falowik murmured. A man of his word.

"The roof," Uien echoed. Falowik released her hand and stepped back as if to regain his balance. She could still feel the warmth of his fingers upon her own. "A fine roofer's assistant I would be to cause you to tarry," she said regretfully.

"Derufin keeps his store of tools and timber at the back of the stables. Likely he is there already." Falowik glanced at the stables and nodded. The pair pulled themselves to make for the stables, Uien's memory singing with that eternal moment. They found the stablemaster sorting through shingles at the back of the stables. Uien, recalling the somewhat tempestuous nature of her departure from the table, had new cause to flush as they approached.

Derufin glanced up, looking from Falowik to Uien. "Falowik would like to see what can be done before the search leaves," Uien explained as the stablemaster straightened.

"There's more than enough to keep us busy until then," he said. His alert eyes moved over Uien's cloak and pack. "Are you sure you will be able to keep your focus and balance" he inquired of Uien. Her flare of temper in defense of Falowik had him wondering if it was wise to send her up. Afterall, if Falco walked out Uien could well decide to rain some loose shingles upon the Shiriff's head. Derufin was not to know that Uien was as likely to charge headfirst into the fray in defense of those dear to her as the Sun was to rise in the East each day.

Uien, however, mistook the question as something else. Her glance towards Falowik said much of what she thought her friend was getting at by way of distraction. "I'm perfectly able to assist," she confirmed, setting her pack down and laying her cloak over it to demonstrate her readiness. By the time she had straightened smoothly once more, she caught only the last glimpse of a fond, if somewhat exasperate smile.

"Right then," Derufin said, "Cook's right keen to see the attic roof mended after our lunch." He placed a meaningful emphasis on the the last word. Uien showed no sign of repentance. Stubborn pride shone in her eyes but she made no reply. Falwoik watched the exchange keenly, his questions building. Once the matter of tools, ladders shingles and roofing tacks were sorted out, Derufin fell silent.

As they collected the gathered materials and equipment, Uien and Falowik were not left to wonder long about what the other man mulled over. The three made their way to the inn to set up the ladder. As Falowik was testing it to ensure it was securely in place, Derufin broke his quiet musing.

"Remember now Uien," he said, "Try not to throw anything at Falco from the roof. He is the Shiriff in these parts and I doubt he'd thank you for a handful of shingle tacks in his rump." Uien looked sharply at Derufin who was smiling merrily at her.

"I doubt he'd notice the tacks, perceptive as the Shiriff has proved himself to be." Uien's reply was replete with dry sarcasm. She raised a single brow, to which Derufin held up his hands in open surrender, smile still in place. Uien turned then to Falowik, the jar of tacks in question amongst the other material she carried.

"After you," she said smoothly, as though they were ascending to a feast or ball. Curious as Falowik must be, Uien was not entirely sure how to explain her sudden fire of her defense. Now, at the base of a ladder which they were to climb to shingle a roof was not the likely place. Perhaps, atop, with the calm of the countryside far below them, she could find a way if he asked.

[Esgallhugwen]

'Stop argueing with yourself, and get lunch ready' Esgallhugwen muttered under her breath. She flitted about the kitchen like a pale phantom sniffing out where the spices were kept and soon enough she found them; in a small cupboard. The pot was boiling with the fresh vegetables as she added the spices, careful to add just the right amount so the soup would be rich and flavourful.

Esgallhugwen called for Buttercup to start slicing up the loaves of honey wheat bread and to see that the pots of honey and sweet butter were filled. Buttercup came but was a little shocked to see the strange Elf in the kitchen.

And yet she gave Esgallhugwen a look of recognition, she had been the Hobbit lass that was startled by her grey eyes while stoking the small fire in her room. 'Oh, where has Cook gone off to?'.

'She asked me to cook lunch for the Inn today, she also asked that you slice the loaves there and fill the pots with honey and sweet butter please, I didn't ask if she had anywhere to be; it isn't my business to ask about personal matters or any matters that don't concern me' Esgallhugwen smiled faintly and stirred the soup a few more times.

The aroma of the rich soup began to curl delicately about the kitchen than made it's way into the rest of the Inn, alerting guests and staff that lunch was very soon on it's way. Esgallhugwen put the lid on the pot and simmered it.

Esgallhugwen called out to Cook telling her that lunch is done and that Buttercup only has to finish up filling the pots with sweet butter and honey. Lunch is served.

[Dynaviir]

Dynaviir slowly struggled down the stairs. His head was barely listening to him. He felt weary, and strecthed, and didn't feel like he had rested at all. He paused at the doorway of the corridor, then yawned deeply, with his hand over his mouth. He knew this would attract a few queer looks from some of the little-folk, but he was still stressed from his nightmare. He thought they had stopped..

'Enough,' he told himself. 'You know none of this wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done.'

He looked down at the floor. Oh, wasn't there? Wasn't it your fault that he was born? All that suffering.. she never even saw the boy. She had given up everything, and for what?

Dynaviir shook his head. 'Look,' it told him, 'there's no point hurting youself over the past. You have made your mistakes. Now you will need to live by them. But that doesn't mean you can't be happy.'

Something stirred in his mind. It didn't sound like he was talking to himself..

And then suddenly he realised where he was. Talking to himself, looking very queer, blocking a doorway for people half his sight. He sighed, and rolled his eyes at himself. He walked into the common room.

It doesn't mean you can't be happy. That was what she had told him. She knew all too well of the suffering of people. But.. her sorrow made her beautiful, and yet her hope even more so...

Dynaviir smiled, and finally ending his train of thought, sat down and looked around him. He wondered where Niniel was, he hadn't seen her since his first night at the inn. He wanted to talk with her, it would be good to relax, and talk as if he was with an old friend. He knew Doienwei loved the extra company; in fact she had looked sorely disappointed when Dynaviir hadn't brought Niniel to her the nights before.

He carefully yet swiftly cast his eyes around the room. He saw her, sitting at a table a small distance away. He felt a little bit more hopeful. If he could talk to someone about normal things, maybe things would return to normal themselves; where he would push aside his past once again, and leave his dreams behind him. And they wouldn't dwindle in his head, when he really should be eating breakfast.

[ August 28, 2003: Message edited by: Dynaviir ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel smiled in welcome surprise when Dynaviir came and sat down at her table. He looked tired, like he hadn't been sleeping too well the past few nights.

"B-b-bad n-n-night's sleep?" she asked. "You l-l-l-look like you c-c-could use a g-g-g-great deal of c-c-c-c-coffee." She proffered her as yet untouched mug and smiled again. He took the cup gratefully. It smelled wonderful and just breathing in the aroma seemed to make him feel a little better.

"H-h-how is Doi-Doi-Doienwei?" she asked, a little chagrined that she had not visited the friendly little pony. For that matter, she was sorry that she hadn't sought out the friendly little pony's master. Dynaviir was one of the few people with whom she felt that she could speak freely. Well, as freely as one can speak when one suffers from a chronic stutter.

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Elenrod was tired. He needed to stop. He just walked all the way to the Shire from the Misty Mountains, helping the dwarves rebuild Khazad-dum. The last decent meal he had was at Imladris; after that, he survived on nothing but fruits and berries. And now, his body refused to go any further: it cried for food, and rest. Then, with his elven eyes he descried for afar an inn. "Looks cheerful enough," he thought. He slowly walked forward to the inn "'The Green Dragon,'" he said as he read the sign. "Reminds me of Ascarog, the worm Eonwe and I slew in the War of Wrath." He went inside.

Seating himself on the nearest empty table and placing his slender bag on the opposite chair, he immediately fell into deep thought. "I really want to go home, to see mother, and father, and...Miriel." As he slowly breathed the name, his thoughts turned to the daughter of Tar-Palantir, whom he fell in love with, and rescued from the tumults of the Great Sea. He dared the wrath of the Valar to bring her to Eldamar. And, before he left for Middle Earth, he promised her they'll be married when he returns. "But," a voice answered, "I can't go back yet. My mission seems...incomplete. Sorry, vanimelda, but I have to stay a little longer."

He snapped out of his reverie when his stomach growled loudly. His thoughts returned to Middle Earth, to the lovely land of the Hobbits, to the Green Dragon, as he stood up and called in a loud voice, "Can I have something to eat, please?"

[Envinyatar]

Now there’s a diversion for this already skewed day thought Cook, looking up from her lists, quill poised over the entry ‘cinnamon’. A rare southron spice. It was best to keep ahead on the supply, since the supply depended on either the mercy of the seas or the mercy of the still untamed eastern lands.

She laid the quill carefully on its rest and wiped her inky fingers on the hem of her apron. The list she secured in the metal box on the shelf beneath the bar top. Launching her short frame from the tall barstool, she landed without incident on the floor and walked over to where the Elf stood. He looked as if her were ready to launch into another loud request for food, and she yanked on the hem of his tunic to draw his attention.

‘My good sir,’ she began, standing back apace so that he might see her more easily. ‘We Hobbits are small but we hear the same as any. No need to bellow out for help, like some miner lost in a cave. Just motion one of the servers over, and she’ll be happy to accommodate you.’

She nodded to the chair, indicating he should seat himself. ‘Vinca Bunce, in fact, at your service. What would you like to eat, and what can I have the girl bring you to drink?’ She motioned Ruby over with a wave of her hand.

‘And will you be staying,’ she asked, noting his slender bag. ‘Or are you just passing through . . .?’

[Nerindel]

"Rey!" Taurëwen whispered, genuine concern lacing her voice as she reached across the table, But as she gently touched his raised hand, he pulled away, but she caught his bloodshot eyes. "What has happened to you?" she whispered sadly drawing her hand away and rummaging in her herb satchel for something that would relieve his headache. She produced a dark coloured root and snapped it in half and offered it to Reynion, telling him to put it beneath his nose and inhale deeply, "It should work quickly" she continued seeing his hesitation. he nodded grimly and did as she asked.

Tall and proud stand Silver Beeches,
Green are the crowns of the majestic oak.
The streams run clear singing their song
to the Golden glades, warm and safe,
were elven song again is heard and light feet tread forgotten paths.
A! Eryn Lasgalen!

In the south dwells Celeborn,
East Lorien now he calls his home.
The Northern Realm yet remains, its Doors again opened wide.
Between the mountains and the narrows do the Beornings dwell.
And with their coming the animals return, The skittish Doe, The majestic Stag and even a mighty bear or two.
The Woodmen too survived the darkness and join the Beornings under the eaves.
All that was dark is now made fair, by the labours of the elves.
A! Eryn Lasgalen!

Once again the Elven Wine flows free and the bards sing their songs to Greenwood the great.
Who in the Shadow of Darkness stood never defeated!
And in this new age she shines again the fairest wood in all the land.
A! Eryn Lasgalen!

Taurëwen softly sang this verse of a very long song in the hopes that it would ease her friends heart to learn of the cleansing of their woodland home, she would not sing what went before, for it ached her to much to sing of their loss and the verse that followed was her own and not yet complete.

Her face shone as she sang, it had been long since Taurëwen Taur'ohtar had raised her voice in song, long since she could find words to express anything but sorrow and pain. Slow was the healing of the Great wood, but Taurëwen kept promises long ago made and worked restlessly in it's aid. But with the Greenwood now cleansed she found that something was still missing, she felt incomplete and she had done for some time. After the war she was courted often by the young Bowyers assistant, Orodhrin. But although she had harboured feeling for him before... the mi.... her heart always strayed to another, who had long ago left. one who could not bring himself to look at her without being reminded of all that they had lost.

On the Celebration of the cleansing and the renaming of the Greenwood, Orodhrin had found her in the woods, far from home weeping under a great oak, the glade was the fairest he had ever seen a small silver stream ran through it and pale white flowers carpeted the floor and even the trees seemed to lament her tears. "Taurëwen, why do you weep when all is healed?"
he had asked her, "Not all" was the answer she gave looking at a golden spot close to the stream. "It was here!" he had whispered "Here, that the one named Reynion lost his leg".
"Yes, it was here that I took his pride from him and here also a part of me was lost and never again found in all my labours." she had replied with tear strewn eyes. "You love him," Orodhin had said lifting her head gently in his hands, she had not answered but he saw it clearly and it ached his heart, "Then you must go to him," he had told her and with one last embrace and a soft kiss to her forehead he left bidding her a fond farewell.

So it was that she searched for the one that could make her complete, only to find him in the most unlikeliest of places, The Green Dragon Inn. And now that he was before her she knew not what to say.

[ August 29, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma yawned. It felt like she had slept for a week but judging by the sun streaming in through the window it had been no more than two hours. She quickly washed her face, enjoying the cool water from the jug and then dressed again.

However, just as she opened the door a young hobbit fell into the room. She had red curly hair and a round face and wore the usual attire of the half-lings. Nuinyulma was quite surprised and gave a small shout.

"Oh, oh. I'm terribly sorry Mistress Elf. Its just... its just, well I wanted to meet you so I followed you up here and sat outside to wait. I must've fallen asleep. And now I've missed second breakfast and will most likely miss lunch. My mam will be ever so angry. By the way, my name is May, May Bracegurtle."

The elven-maid laughed for she had heard of the hobbits' like for food- it was now famous among Middle- Earth. She smiled and held out her hand.

"And my name is Nuinyulma."

[Envinyatar]

Derufin was on the other side of the gable from the ladder. The sun was hot already and he had removed his shirt in an attempt to keep cool, and tied a bandana about his brow. His hammer and crowbar hung from the leather work belt he’d picked up in the stable, as well as a length of measuring cord, and a fat piece of chalk.

Chastised by Cook, he had made his way to the stables, as she directed, to see to the horses. Uien, it appeared, had already taken care of their needs earlier in the day, though, and all he need do was refill their water trough in the exercise pen and add a few forks full of hay to the holders at either end. Falowik and the Elf were nowhere in sight when he finished. And with a resigned sigh, he strapped on the tool belt from the stable's workbench and carried the ladder to the northeastern end of the Inn.

The roof deck on the northern side looked fairly intact on cursory inspection. But that on the south side had a large, sagging area. And when he knelt and pried off the wooden shingles, he could see the deteriorating wood of the substructure. Damaged by rain this past winter and spring, the dampness had crept into the wood and cause a spongy rot to take hold.

He had just loosed all the shingles, and set them aside for inspection later, and was in the midst of measuring the wood needed for the patch, when he heard faint voices from the north side, and the sound of feet moving along the wooden shingles . . .

[ August 30, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Novardaion]

Novardaion is walking through after another night dreaming of his beloved land. He yawns and looks around and is shocked when he sights a face he thought he would never see gain.

"Dynaviir!! You are still alive after all these years no??"

"My friend Novardaion. It has been too many year since we last met."

[Imladris]

"It is not as if my mother and father disappeared," Lira told a bottle of wine as she labeled it and set it aside. "They left for good reason. My father had been wounded in the war and the time of the elves is over: the elves' home is the Valinor. They decided to say goodbye to Middle-earth as they journeyed to the Grey Havens, a journey that would take six or seven years." Lira sighed and paused as her fair blue eyes sought the great outdoors and saw the sun shining and the grass dancing in the wind. "Of course, it's nigh onto eight years since they departed, but when one is travelling plans go awry," she said, trying to talk her worry away. "And of course the message could have miscarried," she suggested to another bottle.

A bird sang sweet and high, and Lira rushed to the entrance of the cellar and strained her eyes to see what kind of bird it was. A dove would bring the message...a tamed dove that Liralwen, her mother, had found injured in the woods. Lira found the bird: a sparrow alighting upon a branch of a nearby tree. Lira's spirits sagged and she turned once more to the cellar and began to sing a song of melancholy.

[Dynaviir]

Dynaviir smiled and sipped Niniel's coffee. He was grateful to see her again. He had missed feeling safe.

"She is fine, thankyou," he said. "Doienwei seems very happy to be here. And I am truly glad of that."

He set down his drink and smiled. "I was wondering, would you like to come to see her again tonight? I am sure she would be very grateful. She likes you a lot." Dynaviir added, in his head, that he liked her too. He felt safe with her, and, though he hadn't seen her for a few days, he had missed her greatly. "I would also like to meet your pony, if you would not mind."

He kept smiling. It was good to have someone to talk too. And it was even more strange for him, since this was only they're second meeting.

He didn't feel pressurised with her. All thoughts of his dreams and distress had softly faded from his mind. He was happy to talk, and happiness was an emotion he felt rarely. He was grateful for it.

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked around, surprised he had been caught unawares.

"Dynaviir!! You are still alive after all these years, no??"

Dynaviir stared in amazement. "My friend Novardaion. It has been too many years since we last met."

Dynaviir turned to Niniel, smiling. "This is my friend, Novardion." He decided to miss out the explanation of who he was, just yet. He looked at Novardion.

"My friend," he said, smiling at Niniel, "this is Niniel, the kindest person I have met yet in these lands. And she is a very good person too. She has been very kind to me and my pony, Doienwei. She is still alive, I am sure you will be pleased to hear." He turned to Niniel and smiled. Somehow, he didn't feel as awkward as he would have done otherwise to see the man, with someone to listen to him across the table.

[littlemanpoet]

The moment had passed. Uien walked by Falowik's side; though he looked ahead toward the stable roof, the lodestone on his periphery had all his awareness. He would treasure that moment for the rest of his days. She had offered him her name, the key to her soul. Uien. Though he had known her name, she was so far above him that it had not been his to use. Then she gave it to him, a gift freely given, nothing required in return. It was not lightly given, nor lightly received; but a lightness filled him with the use of her gift. Uien.

She had laid her hand on his arm to reassure, and stepped into the space between them; he could breathe in the scent of her. The breeze had blown her hair back from her exquisite face, and as he gave his voice into her name, her eyes had closed with pleasure, and slowly opening, showed the desire of her heart.

It was one thing for him to be full of gratitude for her healing touch the night before, for him to treasure her and stoke the Light within her by his adoring words and deeds; it was quite another for her to respond with open hearted love! He had not sought it, had not expected - nay - had not dreamed such a thing could be! It was more than he could have hoped for, and it was too much for him.

Unable to receive all that she offered, he had looked down at her hand resting on his arm. He had raised her hand in his two, wondering if he dared to bring it to his lips. He was not worthy. Last night he had hardly dared to face her, to touch the hand that had rested on his shoulder, warming his heart. She was an Elven lady; surely there were Elven men, even lords, who were more fitting for her. Yet she had deigned to become his Luthien, even though he was no Beren; far from it. Beren had been a warrior, so the legends ran, hunted and lost, never having lost his noble heart and of a great lineage. Falowik was just a poor wanderer, chancily born, born in shame, raised in dishonor by the town at large, for his mother had not survived his birth, and his father was unknown. He was no Beren. Why did she open her heart to him, a mere Man, and at that no better than a stray dog of a man, prettied for the moment by unfamiliar soap and bettered for these passing moments by the gift of herself?

They came to Derufin who was preparing for the chore. Falowik took a moment to put his thought into words, but before he had drawn breath to speak, Uien spoke for them both. Derufin spoke concern of whether Uien was up to the task, which took Falowik by surprise, considering that it had been Derufin's idea in the first place. Falowik caught Derufin's glance his way, and it occurred to Falowik that between breakfast and now, there had been a shift in the balances between Derufin and Uien, and between Derufin and Falowik; yes, Derufin could readily see that the Uien looked at Falowik in a way she had not before. Was Derufin jealous? Falowik could not blame him; this wanderer the upstart, wedging himself into things so quickly. For all Falowik knew, Derufin cared for Uien in ways Falowik had not even considered yet.

Falowik was startled by Uien's willfulness. She had been so warm and soft - and gentle - with him, and now she behaved as one who defies a parent. It was unsettling, at odds with just moments before, and even more at odds with what he had seen in her the night before. Maybe she was a deep, interior, retiring and quiet, yet kind Elf woman under the stars, but vivacious and willful beneath the sun. He knew so little of her!

"Remember now Uien," Derufin was saying, "Try not to throw anything at Falco from the roof." There were more words, but Falowik raised a brow, wondering why Derufin found it needful to say such a thing to her. Was Derufin trying to cast her in a bad light? Then dry sarcasm slipped out of her mouth, and it stunned Falowik, witty as it was. Falco was dense with hobbitish provincialism to be sure, but the disdain that accompanied the words were too like what Falowik had endured in Breeland before he escaped. It was more than unsettling.

"After you," she said to Falowik, and he climbed the ladder ahead of her, realizing that all that had gone between them had been begun by her; not a thing by him. Not one. It was disturbing, and brought on a rain of questions. Why would Uien want to throw shingles at Falco? How could she let such disdain live inside her and at the same time be a Light so pure and cured by whatever suffering she had faced? It made no sense. Or had he seen wrong last night, and been wrong about what she had done for him? Was she enchanting him? There were stories about Elven maidens and Men, not all so high and grand as that of Beren and Luthien. He looked at her with new eyes as she and Derufin joined him on the roof.

He busied his hands with the task of shingling while his thought was busy with questions. Uien kept close to him, as if she needed to be close to him, even while working at something so mundane as shingling. Was it out of need to be with him for who he was, or was it to keep an enchantment in force?

Stop it, old man! You have no cause to think such misthoughts of her. He needed answers, but did not want to offend. He sifted among his many questions and found the one least threatening; perhaps it would lead to other answers. He would have to do so soon, for Derufin had said that the mid day meal would be coming not long after they began their work.

"What means this name, Laurëatan, Uien? I like the sound of it, but I would know what it means."

[ August 29, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Once again the Elven Wine flows free and the bards sing their songs to Greenwood the great.
Who in the Shadow of Darkness stood never defeated!
And in this new age she shines again the fairest wood in all the land.
A! Eryn Lasgalen!

Reynion drank in every nuance of Taurewen's face and posture. He felt sure that she would leave this place soon, and he would again be alone. He was determined to etch her face into his memory, so that in the dark nights he would have something to cling to, when the nightmares pressed in from all sides and he dared not close his eyes for fear of what he would see and feel. Her voice washed over him in a fall of liquid silver, taking him back to the days when he lived alone and content in the middle of Greenwood. When it was so easy to watch her from the trees without being seen.

He smiled, a real smile of joy and not of half-forced mirth, for the first time since he had left Mirkwood, years and years ago. He wondered why her mere presence could lighten his heart, when before all he could see was the terrible day he had lost all dignity as well as his leg. That day he remembered as the worst day in his entire life.

He reached out a trembling hand, and brushed Taurëwen's cheek, tracing the scar that marred her otherwise smooth skin. He wondered if she remembered that ill-fated mission as badly as he did, but he didn't ask. He knew how those memories could hurt, perhaps better than any of the other elves who'd gone. Some had died, others were wounded, though it seemed that none had been as stupid about their wounds as had he.

Her cheek was damp, and he drew back his hand, afraid that he had caused her tears. He wondered, sometimes, if she had ever joined up with Orodhin. He knew that she had once had some sort of feelings for the bowyer's son. Now, he thought he knew the answer to that particular question. If she had loved Orodhin, she would be by his side now, not sitting here in the Shire, facing the half-elf, as some of the more cruel Men in the lands outside of Greenwood had called him, a play on the well-known Lord Elrond Half-Elven and on Reynion's missing leg. He had to admit that he had felt like only half an elf since it was gone anyway.

His own cheek was not precisely dry, he suddenly realized and looked away, embarrassed. He hated to show weakness of any kind.

For a few moments, neither said anything. He tried to smile, and felt that he failed miserably. He felt rather miserable. "Taurëwen," he began.

"Yes?" she responded, looking hopeful.

"I-I—well, I—you—" Good Valar, he was stuttering like an idiot. He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "I, well, I suppose—I want—Dear Eru, I missed you so much!" He looked down. Now she would laugh because he sounded so stupid, and he would get drunk again, and he would be alone again. Just the way he'd always been, even when he'd left the forest for the halls of Thranduil.

____________________________________________

Niniel smiled back at Dynaviir shyly. As usual, she was uncomfortable with this stranger, though meeting strangers seemed to have become a habit of late. Soronume, Elwen, Dorelnar, Mardath, Dynaviir and now Novardaion. Soon she would know as many people as there were years missing from her life. Perhaps that would be a good thing.

"G-g-g-good d-d-day to you, Master Nov-Novar-Novardaion. M-m-may I-I-I ask how i-i-it is th-th-that you kn-n-now Dynaviir?" she asked, still annoyed that she couldn't get a word out without sounding like an absolute idiot. It wasn't nerves, it wasn't fear, she just couldn't talk right.

She wished she could remember what her life before she was sixteen had been like. It would be nice to know if she'd met someone before after all. And she wished that she knew what her parents were like, but...it was no use dwelling on such things. Besides, it was too nice a day to brood.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin crouched down, peering into the gaping hole he had made with the crowbar. The sun was creeping past noon, and he calculated quickly how much of the repair could be gotten done by supper. He swiped his forearm across his forehead where the beads of sweat crept out from beneath the already wet bandana. ‘I could do this the easy way,’ he said, examining the extent of the problem, ‘and just put a quick patch across the planks I’ve removed.’ He rubbed the side of his jaw and considered the outcome. Cook would be satisfied and would no longer hound him about this task. The patch, done well, would hold at least through the winter and spring, though eventually it would break down, and he would be up here once again within a year’s time.

‘May as well do it right, now, rather than later’’ he grunted to himself, ripping up another section of the wooden sheeting that covered this section of trusses. ‘The preparatory work’s almost done, and Cook will hold a plate for me if I miss a meal.’ He stood up and picked his way carefully down to the south side eaves. Beren was there, working in the garden.

‘Oy! Beren!’ The man looked up, shading his eyes against the sun, to where Derufin stood waving at him. Derufin cupped his hands round his mouth and asked him to set up the other long ladder. ‘And bring up that stack of wide thin planks there, and the rip saw, if you will.’ Several trips later, the materials and tools needed were stacked nearby for use. Beren said he would be back in a while with a skin of cool water and would ask Cook for some sandwiches to bring up to him.

Derufin measured the lengths needed, and cut them to fit across the trusses, fitting them tightly against one another as he went along. Once done with this, he would seal them where they joined with a resinous compound and then shingle over them the next day when the sealant had dried. Part of the damaged area was over the dormer that extended out from the attic room proper, the ridge of it had started leaking. Once repaired, he would need to put a copper flashing over the ridge seam. ‘Best add that to the list,’ he told himself. Flashing would be needed to cover all the seams where joints occurred.

From the sounds of the hammers and the murmurings of words between the Elf and Man on the north side of the roof, Derufin guessed that the work there was going easily and apace. He was pleased that Uien had found someone with whom she felt free enough to speak, someone with whom she at least felt on an equal footing.

He well understood the unvoiced need for that simple solace of exchanging words and having the layers of meanings that lay beneath them understood in the process . . . and beyond the understanding . . . accepted. It had only been a few months ago his own reserve had been breached by chance. A flood of memories came pouring into his thoughts, and he wondered if Uien felt as raw and unprotected, as defenseless as he had. It was slippery going, as he well remembered, when the ground shook and heaved beneath the feet and the path so well defined and understood became suddenly unfamiliar and at times frightening.

The rise and fall of his hammer in a steady rhythm turned his thoughts to the person with whom she had chosen to risk this reaching out. Falowik. Somewhat of a cipher, he thought. And he wondered if she had chosen wisely. Fitting another board against the last one he had secured to the trusses, he chided himself for the direction of his thoughts. Uien was a friend. Should she need his advice she would seek his counsel. And he would give it.

But in the end, the choices in the matter would be hers alone to make and to live with.

Beren returned, bringing the water and a large napkin holding a hefty lunch made up by Cook. Derufin accepted the water gratefully, and put the bundled food in the shadow of the dormer’s overhanging eaves for later. His thoughts returned to the task at hand, and he left the Elf and Man to sort out the space between them on their own.

[Gorothlammothiel]

Soronume had been absent of the inn of late, though not the Shire. When he had left his table briefly, Niniel seemed to have made new company with as fair a maiden as herself, and seemed quite content with she, despite her somewhat introverted self. Soronume had thought it best to leave her, for a while, and since the departure of his own aquaintance, had taken Salixrana off from the village.

Day and night had passed, several times by Soronume's reckoning, though that had not bothered him. He would walk or ride by day then rest under the moonlit sky looking upon the stars.

It was far past night now and the sun of mid-day was slowly moving across the sky. Tredding back the worn paths to the inn kicking the dust up with the toe of his scuffed boots, Soronume was contemplating what it was that kept bringing him back here. He didn't take him long to realise.

A young woman rushed past him as he stepped inside, causing Soronume to fall back on his step. Supporting himself with his hand against the thick wooden beam of the doorframe he righted himself, and quickly moved out of the way. Brushing hair from his face he glanced across the room for familiar faces. The Lady Elwen and her companion it seemed had departed in his absence, but Niniel remained. However not in the company he had left her with. Men this time.

He walked over, his footfall hardly creating a sound to be heard. Placing a hand out he touched Niniel on the shoulder, "Pardon the intrusion m'lady." Niniel started at this, almost losing grip of the drink she held tightly in her hands. Soronume quickly drew back his hand. Niniel turned to him, but did not recognise his face for it was hidden in shadow.

The man sat with the lady Niniel drew closer to the table and was ready to make some comment, unsavoury as was more likely. Soronume stepped back, and in doing so his hood fell to his shoulders and his dark hair fell loose about his face. "I'm sorry m'lady, I did not meant to startle you."

[elf-girl-63]

The elf and the hobbit walked slowly down the stairs talking of news from the outside world such as the new King and his bride and other such matters. Finally the chatter turned to Nuinyulma herself.

"Where do you come from Nuinyulma? You have spoken little of your life and I'm keen to hear it. How I'd love to journey around Middle-Earth and see the ancient Fangorn Forest or the White Tree in Gondor."

Nuinyulma was reluctant to speak of her unhappy past but May was so keen- it could be seen in her eyes.

"I come from The Wood of Green Leaves but I left long ago and have ever since wandered by myself visiting the places you have mentioned; meeting many interesting people, races and creatures."

"I wish so much I was you and to meet King Elessar and Arwen Undomiel. I heard there wedding was beautiful. And that all the Fellowship were there."

Nuinyulma fell silent. She wished she wasn't herself but she couldn't tell May why. It would shatter her dreams. Instead she turned the conversation to the wedding.

"The wedding was beautiful. I was there and so were many others- Elrond, Galadriel, rangers and of course the Fellowship. That Age is over now and so is our journey down the stairs. It was nice to meet you May but I would guess you should go home."

May sighed but agreed she should go and left quickly waving as she closed the inn door behind her. Nuinyulma smiled and went over to the bar.

"Some water please Ruby and I wish to buy a horse- do you think you could help me?"

The bar-maid nodded and brought a cool glass over to Nuinyulma's seat by the window. She thanked Ruby and slowly sipped the drink. Occasionally she saw elves she thought she recognised but soon realised she was sadly mistaken.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel jumped as a hand was laid on her shoulder. "Pardon the intrusion, m'lady," said a vaguely familiar voice. She turned, but the man's face was in shadow and she could only see his eyes. Dynaviir looked fairly nervous as well. The stranger stepped back and his hood fell back. It was Soronume, and Niniel silently breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry, m'lady. I didn't mean to startle you."

"I-i-it's all right. W-w-won't you j-j-join us?" she asked, gesturing to a seat on her other side, between Novardaion and herself. Again she was struck by the incredible wisdom in his eyes and felt anew the old feelings of infatuation with the handsome elf. He had lost at least as much as she had...but then, so had Dynaviir, if what she had gleaned from his conversation were true, and he had no reason to lie.

"Th-th-this is Soronume," she explained to Dynaviir. "A-a-and th-th-this is Dynaviir, and th-th-that is Novardaion," she added, pointing each man out for Soronume's benefit. She was far more comfortable than she had been when she first arrived in the Shire, especially with these two, Soronume and Dynaviir. Both were kind and welcoming, and neither ridiculed her stutter. She had yet to come to a conclusion about Novardaion.

[Imladris]

Lira leaned back and tried to ignore the achy feeling inside her head. Her whitish blondish hair fell into her eyes and she began to plait the long tresses into a myriad of braids and, taking several pins that were hidden in a small pocket, she began to entwine them about her head until it looked as if she wore a crown.

She continued to label the wines and she noted with an air of smug satisfaction that the deed was nearly done. She had worked long hours in the pleasant dim gloominess of the cellar, and she was happy. Lira wondered what sort of person Piosennial was, the former innkeeper. Obviously one that was greatly beloved, or so much work would not be done in her honor. A smile grew upon Lira's face and she immediately continued to label the wines with renewed vigor. Looking again at the rows and rows of wine, Lira said, "Well, maybe the worls 'almost done' are not the exact words...there are a great many left to label." A smile grew upon her face as she thought of the joy, often experianced as drunken ectasies, that the inn would have with these fine bottles of liquor.

[Nerindel]

Taurëwen felt herself tremble at his touch, tears fell softly down her cheek as she came to the realisation that her love may not be unrequited as she had always feared. As she closed her eyes to savour the moment Reynion suddenly pulled his hand away, her eyes opened fearful that something was wrong. She saw tears running down his cheek as he again turned away from her. 'It still haunts him and I will always be a reminder of those dark times, I'm I wrong to come?' she thought sadly to herself.

But as she was about to find an excuse to leave before she could pain him more, he spoke her name "Taurëwen," he said try to smile through his pain, "Yes?" she replied hopeful that she need not leave, that he wanted her to stay. She sat Patiently as he tried to get out what he wanted to say "Dear Eru, I missed you so much!" he eventually exclaimed, his cheeks reddening as he looked down to the long empty cup on the table.

*"Ar amin lle, Melamin" she smiled, tears of happiness freely falling down her soft cheeks, she lifted his head so he could see that her words were true and not in jest. The rest of the common room seemed to disappear as she sat locked in his gaze 'please say something' she silently prayed hoping that she had not mistaken the meaning of his words.

-----------------------------
*Ar amin lle, Melamin - And I you, my love.

[ August 31, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Esgallhugwen]

The soup was basically done for lunch, the cookies were set out, and Buttercup had finished with the refreshing of the pots. Esgallhugwen had told Cook all was ready for the noon meal and that she would be outside in the garden if she was further needed.

She took off the apron noticing an Elf at the bar drinking some water, Esgallhugwen smiled at her though she knew her not and went down stairs to the wine cellar. Her pendant danced upon her chest as she floated gracefully down the steps 'mellon' she smiled at Lira and held up her hand in greeting.

'If you are hungry I made soup for lunch by Cook's request, and there are cookies, but I didn't make them but they are quite delicious' Lira seemed deep in thought she still smiled at hearing that lunch was set. 'I'll be outside, if you need me' Esgallhugwen went up the stairs and out the Inn door noticing a few more guests and that Reynion now had a lady friend with him.

She drifted past Dynavir, thoughts of her own swam in her head 'fire' she muttered again, her auburn hair sprayed with gold by the sun's warm rays.

Outside she sat under a tree, flowers of many colours strayed from the garden and flower pots to be under the tree. A bumble-bee came by buzzing clumsingly around the flowers, stopping every so often to take what he needed from them. A breeze picked up shimmering the green leaves casting wavy shadows on the rich soft grass.

Esgallhugwen gazed down at the bee lovingly the fuzzy plumpness of it's body seemed to reflect gold and jet whenever he bumbled into a pocket of the sun's light. She loved the night as most Elves do but the day had it's own beauty and song to listen to.

[Novardaion]

Novardaion smiles at Niniel. He realises that as he is the outsidere he should answer questions.

"My fair lady Niniel, I cannont remember when I met Dynaviir but we have travelled together many a time after I left the golden wood... Many a time...."

Realising that he may have given out to much information he looks around nervously.

"Well Dynaviir what are you doing in this area? Last I heard you were quite some distance away from here"

[*Arwen*]

Check your PM's please

[ August 31, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[*Arwen*]

Save for reworked post

[ September 01, 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.

_____________________________________________

It is now mid afternoon and still lunch-time of a pleasant mid-summer day in the Shire.

[*Arwen*]

Please read the PM's - Private Messages - I have sent you before posting again.

Do not post again until you have reworked what you have written and have read the Red Book of Westmarch topic.

Then PM me your reworked post before you place any more posts on the board. I will look at it when I have returned from work.

We would like to have your character visit the Inn - but you will need to be familiar with the rules for posting in the Shire.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ August 31, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Imladris]

Lira only dimly heard Esgallhugwen and it was only some time after the elf left that Lira came to herself and realized that she had been decidedly rude. Blushing crimson, she finished labeling the bottle that she had been absently holding in her hand for who knew how long, rose, and fetched a bowl of soup.

The inn was full of hungry tenants and Lira made her way slowly through the crowd. A wooden bowl in her hands, she waited her turn to be served. The soup had chunks of vegetables in it, and was strongly flavored with herbs. Lira smiled as she tasted it with her tongue. The Lady Esgallhugwen was a very good cook in deed.

Sniffing deeply, she shivered in delight at the delicious fragrance as she wandered outside looking for Esgallhugwen. She found her beside the stable, looking wistfully at the sky. The dark cloak no longer hung about her, and her dress fluttered lightly in the wind. Her aubern hair glittered like jewels in the sun and strands of loose hair drifted from her face, trailing in the wake of the passing breeze. "Mellon," she said, "the soup is good." She looked admiringly at the elf, glad that she had finally disrobed of her forbidding cloak and hood. "You look beautiful, Mellon," she said softly as she stroked her aubern hair. "No longer hide in the shadows. You are more becoming in the light of the day."

[Tinuviel of Denton]

"Melamin? Do you really mean that?" He didn't really have to ask; her eyes said it all so clearly. He wanted to dance, to sing, to shout to the world, She loves me!!! He did none of those things because for one, he couldn't dance, for two, no songs were forthcoming to his still foggy mind, and three, he was having a bit of difficulty getting anything out around the lump in his throat.

The tears were now flowing freely, but for once he ignored them. Taurewen loved him! She loved him, even though he left, even though he wasn't whole, even though--Careful now, he told himself. You're going to shred your already frail self-esteem. He laughed through his tears and suddenly the lump in his throat was gone and he couldn't stop talking.

"Oh, Taurewen, melamin, you don't know how long I've wanted to hear you say those words. Well, not those words exactly, I imagined something else; for one thing I didn't mean to leave until this," here he gestured to his wooden leg, "And then I just couldn't face you, but--melamin," he finally ran out of words. Except for three.

"I love you."

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

"I am quite sorry for the commotion, good lady," the Elf politely replied. "but I seem to have lost my ability to relate to other people. I lived the past centuries with no one for company but orcs, trolls, and wraiths. Now I am quite astonished to see a fair face or two. And this hunger of mine seems to add trouble.

I'll have dinner--one large enough for a hungry hobbit-lad, and some tea will help. And yes, I'll be saying here for tonight. Thank you!"

[ September 01, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[*Arwen*]

Tiruviel looked around slowly at the new land she had entered. She had been walking for nearly three days since she had left Bree and she had not had any rest or sufficient food that would satisfy her hunger. The lack of rest was due to a disturbed night, under the canopy of a daunting forest, and the hunger was the result of not being well packed. But of course the She- Elf would never admit it, she was a little too stubborn and headstrong to admit her fault.



She smiled; this place had a warm, welcoming feel to it that she hadn’t felt since she had left Lothlorien. She decided that finding somewhere to rest would definitely be a good idea so she was relieved to see a small village rising up in the distance. The setting sun shone against her fair face, her grey eyes lit up with inquisitiveness.



All the houses were very strange; all she could see of them was doors in the mounds of grass that filled the village. She could see people lazing around in their little gardens and smiled. Now that was the good life. She pushed her long, blonde, braided hair out of her face and had another look around. Now here was a place that didn’t seem to care much for anything that happened beyond their boarders.



This is what she had heard about, The Shire. Where the hobbits lived.



She carried on walking until she found herself outside a friendly looking inn. She looked up at the sign and read the name: The Green Dragon Inn. She smiled, it’ll do!



So she leaned forward and slowly entered the inn. A musty smell of pipeweed and ale drifted over towards her. It was quite a large room, with a bar on one side of the room and tables and chairs on the other. It was not what she would call ‘packed’ but there were quite a few people sitting around chatting. She grinned again; she was going to enjoy herself here.



She weaved her way towards the bar and was met by a young looking woman. She smiled, “Greetings, my name is Tiruviel and I could really do with a refreshing Ale, if you would and a room if you would be so kind!”



The woman behind the bar laughed, “Well, you’ve come to the right place then! I am Aman and I am the Inn keeper” She handed Tiruviel the glass of beer and Tiruviel handed her some change in return. Aman gestured towards the chairs, “go and make yourself comfortable, you are very welcome here and Ruby will be along and show you your room..”



Tiruviel smiled and took the glass. After a quick glance around, she found a table and was soon relaxing and sipping the Ale. Ah, now to relax!

[ September 01, 2003: Message edited by: *Arwen* ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman smiled engagingly at the elven woman as she handed her a drink and invited her to sit. The poor woman looked worn out - the Innkeeper decided she would do the room herself, but hadn't the heart to make the woman come all the way back to the bar when she looked so shattered - as if she would fall asleep as soon as she hit the chair, in fact. Hefting the large log book from under the bar, she noted the pen was gone for some reason and patted her pockets for another. Then, walking briskly across to the elf, who had just dropped into a chair with a sigh, Aman smiled apologetically.

"I do apologise, but if you could just sign in this log book for the room? I believe there is quite a nice one looking out to the East at the moment, a lovely view. Most rooms are three coppers a night, and can be paid for now or later." Aman gave the elf all the information at once, sparing her having to talk. Placing the log book on the small table beside the comfortable armchair in which the elf now said, Aman handed her a pen. "If you could just sign here, and here."

The elf - Tiruviel, Aman noted her name was - signed obligingly in a flowing, elegant hand, thankfully in the common tongue - in that graceful and italic joined hand, Aman wasn't sure she would have been able to read the elvish runes. Deciding not to ask the tired woman any more questions, the Innkeeper lifted the log book once more and returned her pen to her pocket. "Welcome to the Green Dragon Inn, Tiruviel. Whenever you wish to go to your room, or for anything else, just signal to me or to one of the two hobbit waitresses, Ruby and Buttercup."

"Thankyou." The woman smiled back gratefully, and Aman felt herself taking a liking to this tired (she stopped herself saying young woman) elf, and inclined her head to her before turning away, then stopping herself. "Oh, and will you be taking some supper? Soup tonight."

Despite her tiredness the elf nodded, gratified, and began to stand, but Aman held up a hand, smiling. "No need, I'll ask Ruby to bring some over for you." With a parting smile, the young Innkeeper departed. Seeing Ruby come out of the kitchen, she gestured for one soup, knowing she probably looked an idiot. Ruby raised an eyebrow and shook her head, laughing quietly at the Innkeeper's miming, before conceding and nodding.

Leaving the log book under the bar again, Aman lifted her skirts slightly at the front to stop herself tripping on them as she went down the cellar steps, and looked around down there - Lira had gone, but no matter, the elf had worked well with Aman today, and it would have been the worse for both of them if they had done this work for too long. Stepping lightly down, Aman replaced a few bottles that had been left out, and noted that, although they had done well today, there were still a fair amount of wines to be sorted. Still, it would all be worthwhile if it was for Pio - and the mysterious Mithadan, who the young woman would be glad to meet again, judging from their meeting that first night and morning.

[littlemanpoet]

"Gold Man. For your hair." Uien raked away a shingle she had pulled.

"If you would have me call you by your name, Fair Uien," he grinned, "then I ought to have the same of you, but I mind it not. Laurëatan sounds better than Falowik."

"And Gold Falowik would say the same thing twice!" Falowik laughed, and stopped suddenly, for it was a thing he had not done in many months, or years - he'd lost track - and it startled him. But the smile remained. So did his curiosity.

"Now I must know why Derufin thinks you might throw shingles at Master Boffin."

"I had words for that distrustful Hobbit after you left the table." Falowik's brow rose. "The bread I placed on his plate ... bounced." Falowik almost began sliding off the roof for laughing too hard. "Mind the tacks!"

When he had regained his composure he said, "I wish I had been there to see the look on his face. Ow, I think I've ripped my trousers in three new places."

"He did not have much to say in return. Not that I gave him much chance to reply."

"No wonder you said Falco might be displeased that you're coming with the search party."

"He can argue little with the need for a healer."

"I think my trousers need healing."

"Maybe I'll teach you to do that yourself."

"You think I cannot mend my own pants? There is much I can do! I can find you the herbs you need from these lands-"

"Well I know it."

"-and I can track as well as any Ranger - well, almost as well."

Derufin called from the other side of the roof. The three met at the peak.

‘You two go ahead. I’ll come along later. Beren has already brought me some food, and I want to get the planks laid and sealed before this evening.’ He looked down at the progress they were making on replacing the shingles on the north side. ‘Well done, you two. You should be done by the end of the day.’ He waved them off and went back to the section of the roof deck he was repairing.

Uien and Falowik climbed down the ladder and made their way into the common room for lunch and a good ale.

[ September 02, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[*Arwen*]

See below

[ September 01, 2003: Message edited by: *Arwen* ]

[*Arwen*]

Teruviel finished off her beer and let herself sink further down into the seat. She had been immensely tired during the journey, but now she had arrived, she didn't want to go upstairs to bed. All these new people from different backgrounds, all with different stories to tell! Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she looked around the room and she felt all the fatigue falling away.

A shadow fell over her and the figure of Ruby came into her veiw.
"Hello my friend, one soup i believe?" Ruby grinned.
Teruviel smiled back at her, "yes, thankyou. Oh! And please tell Aman how grateful I am for everything she has done for me since i have arrived. I would have been stuck without her!"
"I will." Ruby turned and walked back to the kitchen.

Teruviel picked up her spoon and dug into the soup. She realised how lucky she was to have found such a welcoming place to stay. Aman was such a nice innkeeper! She made a mental note to leave a long thankyou message when she left.

Wow! This is good soup!

[Lelarix]

Lelarix walked out of the green dragon inn onto the busy streets. She guarded her sais that were tucked in her belt that tied around her waist. she wore a short black skirt and a black top with one long sleve thats was tied together on her upper arm. her left arm was bare. she stood about 5'7" with long, thick,straight hair of light brown and blond. she had beautiful,emrald green eyesthat were outlined in black. She was a raider. Part ranger and elf, yet she did not have pointy ears like her mother.The only things about her that resembled an elf were her bow and arrow on her back and her hair. She walked to the stables and got her brown horse,ominay. She payed the people and left the town, looking for any groups from isengard and mordor which needed to be stopped.

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

Important note:

Lelarix,

I would contact you by private message, but you don't have your messages activated. We're very happy to see you posting in the Inn. However, your post needs to conform to the Red Book of Westmarch rules. You will find a thread for that at the top of the Shire screen.

The most important rules are as follows:

1. Posts must be a minimum of 2 paragraphs long with 2 sentences in each paragraph. Doublespace between paragraphs.

2. Check the spelling and grammar including use of capitals. If necessary, compose your post offline using word or a similar program to check for mistakes.

Please edit this post to comply with those rules, or it will be necessary for us to remove it from the thread.

We look forward to seeing your revised post.

Cami, Shire Moderator

[ September 01, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

_____________________________________________


Lelarix

I would like you to look at the costume you have put your character in - characters in Middle-earth wear clothes much like those of medieval times - you will not find a woman with a short skirt on.

Also - since your character is Elven (or are you saying she is half-Elven [it is unclear to me] since half-Elven or half-any kind of character in the Shire Inn or games is forbidden) - she will NOT have green eyes. If you wish me to send my references for this to you, let me know. Otherwise, do as Cami and I advise:

Follow the paragraph rule found in 'The Red Book of Westmarch'.

Capitalize the words that need to be capitalized.

Drop the use of the word 'sai' - it is a martial arts term. If you read the Rules for posting in the Shire (The Red Book of Westmarch) you will fincd the use of martial arts in this tolkien oriented forum forbidden. You will simply have to describe them as knives of whatever length and structure you wish.

Change the costume to make it more Middle-earth compliant.

Change the eye color of the Elf to that of grey or we will accept a grey blue (Tolkien does specify grey)

Please read the Facts for the Inn, found on this page - It is the 4th Age, 12 years after the War of the Ring has ended. Isengard and Mordor are no longer a threat.

One further bit of advice, when you post in the Inn, your actions must stay inside the Inn or on its property. You may not have your character wander off and have a posted adventure which is beyond the confines of the Inn.

Do not attempt to run a stand alone game in the Inn , that is also forbidden. Read the posts on the page you are posting on, and try to fit into the flow of what is happening


Will await your revised post. And will again strongly advise you familiarize yourself with 'The Red Book of Westmarch', the first topic in the Shire Forum. Everyone who posts here in the Inn and in the Games is held responsible for following the rules found there.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ September 01, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

His food came. Elenrod sat by as Ruby served his food. "At last, good vittles." he thought as he took the spoon.

In minutes, Elenrod was grinning like a hobbit who just came from a feast. Not a crumb remained of the food on his plate. "Now I'm ready for anything." he thought as he looked around. "How about someone to talk to?"

[Envinyatar]

Derufin climbed to the ridge of the roof, where the other two were waiting for him. ‘You two go ahead. I’ll come along later. Beren has already brought me some food, and I want to get the planks laid and sealed before this evening.’ He looked down at the progress they were making on replacing the shingles on the north side. ‘Well done, you two. You should be done by the end of the day.’ He waved them off and went back to the section of the roof deck he was repairing.

The old shingles and rotted substructure had been cleared away, the underlying timbers inspected and found to be in good shape. Using the saw that Beren had brought up to him, Derufin cut a number of planks to fit the length of the area and fitted them carefully together, securing them onto the underlying structure with nails. Once done, he climbed down the ladder, bringing the saw with him. He hung it back in the stable near his workbench and went to the storage shed that stood outside the side door. A bucket of resin was the object of his search, and having found it, he took it into the kitchen to warm by the fire.

Cook eyed the bucket as he sat it on the hearth, then nodded as he explained the use of it. Two cookies, and a mug of tea and the resin was declared pliant enough to be spread on the roof. Stuffing an apple in his shirt pocket Derufin made his way back to the ladder and started up.

A familiar voice called out to him. ‘You’ll have to come back down if you expect to get this letter today.’ Derufin looked over his shoulder and saw Halfred standing there, waving a slender, folded piece of vellum at him. ‘I don’t like heights,’ he heard the Hobbit say. ‘Otherwise, I would climb up to you.’ Halfred waved the letter at him, and even at this height he could recognize the bold hand that had addressed it.

‘A moment,’ he said, hanging the bucket on a hook that hung from the eaves, and climbing back down the ladder. With a small bow, Halfred handed over the letter, and was rewarded in kind with a bow and a smile from the man. He left the man to the reading of it and made his way back to the Common Room for a bit of refreshment.

All thoughts of resin and plank seams fled as Derufin leaned back against the ladder and opened the note.

[Arien]

“Ah The Green Dragon Inn,” he whispered under his breath, so his journey had led him here. His dark looked up at the old sign that swayed gently in the evening breeze; it swept up his dark hair and the danced with a few leaves on its way down the path towards the setting sun. He stared at them for a while, the soft shining light caressing his face, then he looked down to the gravel path and then up towards the door. A stay here for a few nights would be sufficient, then off again. Maybe back to the North, or to Bree he had not decided yet.

The man pushed the door open in to the Inn, it was nothing new. It was an Inn what else could he say. He nodded to the Innkeeper at the bar.

“Welcome, I am Aman the Innkeeper,” she said, “And how may I help you?”

“A room please, and an ale if you would,” he said pushing a pouch of coins on to the bar. The Innkeeper smiled at him and opened up a large logbook in front of him, he signed his name and took the ale she had poured in the meantime.

“Do you wish to have a meal?” Aman asked taking the logbook and pen, outing them both under the counter.

“No I am alright for now, maybe in the morning….” He said as he looked around the common room for a place to sit. Aman drew back his attention though.

“Ok then when you are ready come over to the bar and I will have someone show your room.”

“Could you possibly show me now?” he questioned, he did not disrupt Aman right now but he needed somewhere to set his things down.

“No problem,” she said cheerily. And so with key in her hand he followed her upstairs to his room. The corridor was small, but cosy. She stopped ant a door at the far end, “here we are, if you need anything…..”

“I’ll ask,” he finished, Aman smiled, handed him the key and started to walk back to the bar, “Oh and thank you,” he called down the passage. He put the key into the lock and turned it opening the door slowly. A fire was already lit and a double bed was set in the centre. He walked in and closed the door behind him. He threw his things onto a chair near by and went the window at the far end and set his ale on the windowsill. He stared out of it for a few moments and then sighed maybe here would be more gracious towards him.

He turned and headed for the common room with the mug of ale in his hands, he shut his door behind him and slipped the key into a pouch on his belt. He did not change from his travelling clothes, for one he saw no point he would be leaving soon and he didn’t feel comfortable in his other clothes. He preferred to wear his mail shirt underneath his foresters green tunic and dark green trousers than wear something of a richer nature.

He looked around the common room for a table; there was one with a She –Elf. An Elf! He had not seen one since he left Ithilien and for some reason he was glad to see one. He walked to the table and courteously asked.

“May I sit?” the She- Elf nodded and smiled. She was radiant, her fair skin glowed and her blonde hair floated passed her shoulders. And her eyes were grey and deep full of curiosity but full of sadness. “I am Caranel, a ranger of Ithilien,,” he bowed politely and sat down opposite the elf. “And you may be?”

[*Arwen*]

“Tiruviel,” she smiled, “My name is Tiruviel.” Caranel nodded thoughtfully and took a large gulp of ale,
“And what brings a pretty she-elf like yourself to these parts?”

Tiruviel launched herself into her past and before she knew it, she had told this stranger everything: about Lothlorien, her departure, her wanderings and all of her many ‘adventures’ that she had had in the last 12 years. She hadn’t meant to go on for so long, but there was something in his eyes, they were deep and understanding. She couldn’t help but tell him everything.

By the time she had got to the end, she was feeling slightly embarrassed. Why did I go on like that! He only asked a simple question – he didn’t want my life story! Caranel slowly finished his ale and looked up, “ Now that is what I call a story,” he laughed. Tiruviel felt all her fears dissolve away as she joined in with his laughter.

“Do you want another ale?” he asked kindly, “we seem to have leaky glasses!” Tiruviel laughed again, “That would be great!”

She watched as he went over to the bar, and took the chance to have her first proper look at him. He was tall, very tall in fact, and well built. He had dark hair and dark eyes and he was wearing dark clothes and a long black cloak. He looked mysterious, she thought, and had probably had many adventures in her time. She felt a rush of excitement as she thought about what his life must be like. She found herself longing to hear about his adventures and hoped against hope that he would be willing to tell them!

She was awoken from her fantasies by the heavy thump of a large glass of ale being placed in front of her. He was back. She watched as he sat down in his place opposite her and started on his ale. She knew that it would be rude to ask him to tell his story, so she fought inside herself to try and find a question that could start him off. She was just about to give up hope when Caranel placed his ale on the table and said,

“Right, now I guess its my turn!”

[ September 02, 2003: Message edited by: *Arwen* ]

[Elora]

"The look on his face.... let me see if I can recall it so that you may see it," Uien said with a curve of her lips to Falowik. A lightness of spirit was floating within her, a lightness that had not been hers since... since.... she shied away from the memory of that dark, cold place, where time knaws at the roots of the mountains and there are foul things. Instead, she returned to that lightness. It was Falowik. She surfaced with a description of Falco's expression as she tossed the bread on his plate in her ire.

"The Shiriff did not know where to look first. He was torn between staring in outrage at me as I made my thoughts known and dismay at the bread that threatened to flee from his plate and be spoilt.

A pretty twist for a hungry Hobbit - bouncing bread or an irate tablemate." Her smile had not slipped. Instead it widened. The very fact that Falco had chosen to keep an eye on her until she had left and not his food painted an amusing picture. Hobbits and the victuals are not easily parted, by angry Elves nor the ending of the world.

Falowik and Uien had reached the ladder that leant against the eaves. Both were smiling openly at Falco's conundrum. A lightness of spirit.... yes, it was Falowik that gave her that and held the other heaviness at bay. In part it was that gladness that fuelled her humour. After initial silence, the two had fallen into easy conversation as they had worked.

"To have seen that," Falowik chuckled.

"It may happen again if the Sheriff continues as he did at the table. I cannot remain silent in the face of such behaviour."

"Indeed not," Falowik observed drily. Uien shot him an amused glance, corners of her mouth quirking in laughter. It wasn't until they had reached the bottom of the ladder that their conversation resumed.

As they walked towards the inn, Uien flicked at the worn state of her skirt. "I have some experience in mending clothing torn." She smiled down at her skirts, each mend testament to her growing experience. "And it could be said that I was unwise to make merry on a rooftop. I should remedy for the damage I caused when you were laughing so hard you slid..."

"This is true... had you not bounced your bread on Falco's plate," he said lightly as they climbed the stairs to the inn.

"And so the offer is made. I will heal your breeches," Uien continued as they walked through the door and entered the bustle of the inn. Falowik was given a chance to ponder what Uien may have said to Falco, and why she had even seen fit to do so, as they searched out a table and claimed it.

Ruby breezed past as they sat. "Ale for you and," she said looking meaningfully at Uien.

"Cider, please. And lunch, if there is any left," Uien finished, hopefully.
"I'll see for you. No unwatered wine this time," Ruby quipped.
"Not yet," Uien replied, cheeks faintly flushing as she recalled the events of the prior evening.
"A cider and an ale it shall be. Shall you be throwing lunch again, Uien," Rubby asked drolly. Uien shook her head in reply. She watched the Hobbit speed off. Business was brisk at this time of day.

When Uien turned back to Falowik, she seemed to have sobered somewhat from her earlier levity. That Ruby had heard of events suggested that Falco may now be heartily displeased with Uien and moreso with Falowik than before. In her haste, Uien had not considered this consequence.

"I hope I have not done you a disservice with the Shiriff, for that was not I intended," she said with concern. Falowik studied her for a moment, as though wrestling with an urge both to speak and not speak.

"What did you intend?" His voice was quiet and eyes intent. Uien blinked and bustle of the inn faded as she replied.

"To see a wrong righted, Falowik. Honour and worthiness should not be so easily besmirched by a Hobbit.

I think though I would have done better by you to have remained silent. You will prove the Shiriff wrong well enough with your tracking. The missing Man will be found."

No artiface nor hesitation was in her words or face. Ruby reappeared to slap the ale and cider down. "You're in luck. Lunch is on it's way," she hurridley stated before darting off to another table in need of ale.

"Worthiness and honour..." Falowik repeated. "Is that truly what you see?" Incredulity was in his question.

"That and much more," Uien replied quickly, cider, ale and lunch for the moment forgotten. She realised how bold she had been when one of Falowik's golden brows arched. She became less certain then. Had she stepped too far to take such a liberty? Had she? The frozen moment, surely it said that she had not. Yet, just as she saw him surely he saw her.

Her cheeks flushed and her gaze dropped. Surely he saw the one left behind by her own kin. The one who wandered into darkness. Could he make out the marks of their claws upon her skin, the stain of their unclean presence. Surely he did. The lightness that was Falowik floated still within her and Uien yearned as never before that the heaviness she carried with her was not hers and the past could be undone.

Falowik was silent, her last ardent words still hanging in the air between them. Hasty and unwise as she was, she had painted it clearly for all to see. A man of worth and honour and she reaching towards him when she had no place to do so. Uien waited for the sound of Falowik's chair being pushed back so that he could walk away. It was what any Man had a right to do.

Yet, she sat still, torn between her certainty of what would happen and her desperate wish that it would not. Let him stay, she said fervently within her mind. Let him overlook all he sees and stay. On the wings of that hope, Uien dared look up once again at Falowik.

"I do not mean to offend and twice now this day I have wronged you," she sadly said as she looked upon the source of lightness and hope that sat across from her. Falowik's ale was untouched. She laced her fingers together on the table and inwardly reached towards what she had no right to drag down the darkness of her past.

[Arien]

“Right, now I guess it’s my turn!” he laughed placing his glass down onto the table. He leaned back casually in his chair and fumbled with his belt unconsciously. “Well, what can I say?” he said softly looking up at Tiruviel. “I am travelling North to visit the rest of my kin, I left Ithilien a year ago and spent some time in villages along the way. In fact I have just come from Bree where I stayed for a month. It was interesting.” He smiled.

“It is nothing of course compared to your tale, but come tell why did you leave such fair woods a Lothlorien? I have dreamed of going there, but alas it is now empty. And the radiance that once was there has gone, fled over the sea from this forsaken land.”

“Forsaken?” Tiruvial question with concern, “I do not think such a thing! These lands are just beginning to blossom, joy and happiness will come from them. That is certain. As for Lothlorien, yes its radiance has fleeted and the mystique that Galadriel and Celeborn held over it has gone with them.” Her eyes glistened, so she missed her home, but she defiantly defended the world she had now taken on. He admired her. “I left to explore, it is not enough to be shut up I want to feel free, to adventure. I did not pass over the sea with my mother and I still stand by my decision.”

Tiruviel dropped her head slightly and then looked up at him again. “You speak bitterly, why so?”

“Aye, I do. Maybe too bitterly, but I have had some experience of the darkness of the world. That I do not wish to tell you, maybe because I hate to relive it. Or maybe because I do not want you to hear it…..I can not tell….but..”

“It is ok!” she smiled, “I would not have you tell me, here we are complete strangers I have no right to know!” she laughed, and he smiled back in thanks. They sat and talked for a while he liked her company immensely and she was a pleasant change from the company he normally found himself keeping.

“Excuse me?” a voice came from behind him, he turned round to see the maid with a bowl of soup and bread in her hands, “This is for you.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“Aman thought you might be hungry,” she said.

“Well thank her for me, it seems she may be able to read my mind!” Ruby walked off and he turned back to Tiruviel. “Will you have some?”

She shook her head, “No thank you, I have already eaten, although it is lovely soup,” he took a sip.

“ ‘Tis indeed!”

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma had been watching the events in the inn for a couple of hours and had long drained her glass of water. As she watched n, half-thinking, half-listening to the conversations around her.

Suddenly she heard the word 'Lothlorien' mentioned. Could it be? Could it be that here in The Green Dragon Inn there was someone from her old home? Even if the name they gave was old and no longer used? She turned to see who the speaker was. At the table was a young elf-maiden with shining blonde hair and a man clad in green. She had seen them both arrive- the elf nearly collapsed but after some soup was revived and the man had gone straight to a room but had soon come down. It seemed all very odd to Nuinyulma but she was not one to criticise.

AFter a few more minutes of sitting, Nuinyulma felt peckish again and asked Ruby for some soup. It smelt delicious and after her first bite, realised her senses were right.

After eating, she looked up and saw the elf and man were still talking but Nuinyulma longed for some company. However, it seemed rude to interrupt so she didn't and instead patiently waited for someone new to arrive and hopefully to talk to her (although it did seem doubtful).

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman noticed the girl sitting alone in the corner as she re-entered the room and noticed also her subtly longing glances towards the pair who talked of the Golden Wood, smiling and laughing together, talking easily as if they were old friends. But the elven girl soon seemed to resign herself to being alone, and that simply would not do.

But there, an oppurtunity had come; the man who sat with Tiruviel seemed about to stand, picking up the glasses and asking her something. The elf held up a hand, standing, apparently insisting that she herself went. And the elf in the corner had long finished her glass of water. Aman seiezed the moment as Tiruviel began to weave her way around the tables towards the bar, catching the other elf's eye and gesturing as if she was drinking, eyebrows raised. The girl seemed to hesitate, evidently shy, before nodding thankfully and starting up towards the bar, clutching her empty glass.

Aman turned, with both an inward smile and an outward one, to Tiruviel as she reached the bar. The elf smiled back, nodding politely as she placed the glasses on the counter.

"Same again?"

"Please," came the happy reply. Aman glanced up at the elf as she took the glasses and was glad to see she seemed much revived from earlier on, her face glowing with happiness (and probably drink as well). Shooting a look across the bar as she began to fill the first glass, Aman noticed the quiet elf had reached the bar as well and was quietly waiting. She made a point of looking up and smiling at her, thereby drawing Tiruviel's attention to her as well.

"Good day, what can I get you?" She inquired politely. The elf smiled quietly.

"Just...just a water, please?"

"As you wish." Taking the glass from the elf, she put it to the side, finishing filling Tiruviel's first glass and starting on the second. Now to start the wheels of her plan. Looking up at Tiruviel, she nodded towards the man who she had been sitting with. "An old friend maybe?" She smiled.

Tiruviel laughed. "Nay, certainly not - rather a new aquaintance."

Aman nodded politely, smiling, her eyes still on the glass. "Really? Ah, but you wouldn't have known it from the way you talk so easily together, if I may."

Tiruviel smiled, shaking her head. "No, of course. He...well, we have found something in common." Her smile was a little sad as she said this. Aman shot a quick glance towards the quiet elf who still stood at the bar, flickering her eyes towards Tiruviel as she looked away. It would be a perfect moment if only the elf would seize the chance to inquire about Lorien...

[Imladris]

After a few minutes of conversation with Esgallhugwen, Lira turned and headed to the Inn to dispose of her soup bowl, the contents of which she had just finished, and to return to the cellar. She saw Aman behind the bar and that two elves were in front of her, glasses newly filled with drink. Aman herself seemed poised, as if waiting for something. Lira smiled and made her way into the kitchen. Washing her bowl and putting it away, she turned to Cook, complimented her on the meals she had eaten in the inn, and drifted out the door.

She crossed over to the cellar, her feet making sound upon the plush lawn. Descending the stairs, she stopped and breathed deeply and began to sing a song that the elves had frequently sang in Mirkwood. It was merry and full of good cheer, and soon the cellar rang with the sound of her haunting and beautiful voice.

[Esgallhugwen]

Lira gave her praise of the soup, Esgallhugwen hoped it wouldn't be too Elvish for Hobbit and even human stomachs. Lira said goodbye that she would return to the cellar to finish more work. After a few more moments basking in the warm rays and light breeze she stood, flicking off a few of the wet blades of grass that clung to the back of her tight grey-green pants that forest Elves usually wear to camoflauge in the wild,
wear in battle or on the hunt.

She sighed heading into the Inn after visiting with Morsereg, new people were there; she saw them passing by on the road though they did not see her or Lira, as was to be expected. The Inn was thick with the smell of the soup; Esgallhugwen heard here and there praises.

She smiled briefly and went to the bar to ask for a mug of cider. Aman the Innkeeper was up to something; waiting for something to happen, Esgallhugwen could see it in her eyes. She sipped on the cider,

becoming in the light of day Lira said to her No longer hide in the shadows. Esgallhugwen thought on these words 'to hide in shadows or am I a shadow?' she said deeply partially out loud taking hold of her pendant 'do not shadows flee from the light? Therefore I may not be a shadow, though I cast shadows and darkness on other things? I would try not to, but shadows hide in other shadows'. Esgallhugwen paused taking another drink, the sweet cider drizzled down her throat smoothly refreshing her.

'Menelariel Luinhith....mother...; You said I was the light; golden fire in the sun, silver flame under moon, star-gleam some called me, Elenglin.

'I am the light that was taken by shadow' Esgallhugwen uttered softly, the bustle humming about her.

[littlemanpoet]

"Worthiness and honour... Is that truly what you see?"

"That and much more!" Her reply came quickly.

Falowik knew better. He did not think that Uien deluded herself. How was it that he was showing himself to her in such a different light? Light! It was her doing. As long as she was his lodestone and Light, something that he had not known to be within him came forth readily.

Uien grew quiet and looked down at her cider; a shadow seemed to pass over her face as unknown thoughts took her inward. In that moment Falowik saw the quiet Elfmaiden of the night before, and something melted within him the more. She looked up at him; her face was fervent and stricken with fear and seeming grief.

"I do not mean to offend and twice now this day I have wronged you!"

Is that all her fear? Maybe it was what floated on the surface of her gravity, but there was much more to her than that. There must be! Falowik looked into her eyes, wishing with all his might that he could find some way to gladden and reassure her. Her eyes flitted to his untouched drink and she laced her fingers, and drew inward again. Falowik reached out and took her two hands in his.

"You have not offended me even once this day, fair Uien!" He gave only passing heed to the urgency in his own voice, for he cared not how he seemed to others, only to her. "You are the one who makes me honourable, and you give me all the worth I own!"

Her eyes glistened and a smile played about her lips.

"Nay, Laurëatan, I see what others do not, to their loss."

"Fair Uien." He raised her hands in his and brushed her fingers with his lips. An exquisite shiver passed through him at the feel and the scent and the restfulness of her hands in his. His eyes did not leave hers, and the smile did not leave her face.

Two loud thuds broke their revery. "Two lunches!" Ruby announced. Falowik let Uien's hands slip from his.

They ate and drank in silence, happy to be in the moment, knowing the lightness that passed between them, calm in the sureness of the regard each had for the other. Falowik broke the silence after a while.

"I would know more of you, Uien. Tell me what pleases you, and then I'll take a turn if you like."

She tipped her head to one side, her eyes inching upward to the ceiling as she took inventory of her memory, choosing what thing first to tell. A wry smile came to her face and she opened her mouth to speak when she was interrupted.

"I know you!" It was Halfred, licking his lips after finishing a meal and a drink or two. "Cleaned yourself up a mite, I almost didn't reckanize you. The wanderer, is it?"

"The name is Falowik."

"Looky here, Falco gives me to unnerstand that you an this Elf Lady, pardon I don't know your name, ma'am-"

"Uien."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. Falco tells me that Uien and you are a-goin' on this man hunt with us."

"That's right, and we leave before nightfall, I believe."

"I'll not have it so," Halfred replied. "I need time to gather the best Hobbits for searching, and that'll take a few days. Four at the most, I figure. So you sit tight here while Falco and me go pickin' and choosin' the right sorts for this here manhunt."

"Very well, Master Halfred."

"And you might take the op - por- tun-ity -" Halfred relished the big word "-to recruit a good soul or two."

Falowik gave his assent to try, and Uien as well. Halfred bid them good day and left. Falowik turned back to Uien.

"You were about to say..."

[Dynaviir]

Dynaviir was a little put out by the question. What answer could he give?

"I was far away from my home for a while.. but I went back to Gondor. My travels were weary, and so I have come here - as far as I can go - to relax. There is little more too it."

That, of course, was a lie. He shrugged it off. Novardion was trusting, or so he had thought. He would assume the story was correct. Dynaviir smiled at Niniel, this was more or less the story he had given her, and had felt a little ashamed that he wouldn't tell her much more. The same problem lay nowwith Novardion.

Dynaviir looked at Novardion a little curiously. 'Fair lady' was a term the man had used too often in the past.. he wondedered if his old ways had stayed with him.

He surruptitiously rolled his eyes to himself. He sipped his coffee and looked up as a man appeared.

"Pardon the intrusion, m'lady." The man had laid a hand on her shoulder, and she looked startled. Dynaviir's hand moved to his hilt. It was instinctive. But Niniel looked up, and seemed to relax as the man's face came into her view. Dynaviir stared fixatedly at the man. "I'm sorry, m'lady. I didn't mean to startle you."

"I-i-it's all right. W-w-won't you j-j-join us?"

Dynaviir watched the man closely, and then noticed that he was not a man, but an elf; hidden behind a hood which had hidden it's owner from view. Dynaviir didn't loosen his grip. His eyes met with the elf's. The elf seemed welcoming, and his eyes passed away as they turned to Niniel, who spoke.

"Th-th-this is Soronume," she said smiling. Dynaviir loosened. His hand left his hilt and went back to his mug. He tried to smile at the elf; the elf hadn't seem to notice his wariness. Niniel smiled too, and Dynaviir felt a little more at ease, knowing the elf wasn't a threat. Niniel gestured to him. "A-a-and th-th-this is Dynaviir, and th-th-that is Novardaion."

Dynaviir finally managed a full smile at the elf, but Soronume was looking and greeting Novardion. Dynaviir wondered if he had noticed, since his friend had been introduced after him, yet was greeted before. Dynaviir shifted his eyes quickly, and smiled at Niniel instead. She seemed to be looking into space, smiling to herself. It made him feel better to see her smile. He subconsiously stroked his pendant. He took another sip of coffee. It was almost empty.

"..and, Dynaviir," the elf said. The elf smiled at him in greeting. For the first time Dynaviir noticed the look in his eyes, the wisdom and calm of his presence. He now felt slightly guilty to have been so hasty. But he felt now like.. he could barely trust anyone.

Dynaviir regained his smile anyway, and shook hands with the elf. Maybe they could be friends after all. His gaze met again with Niniel, and she smiled.

But somewhere inside him, Dynaviir didn't feel quite comfortable. In some ways, he felt out of place. He was a changed man from the one Novardion had known, he wondered if he could meet expectations. Somehow, for no reason, he envied the elf for his aura. He ignored the thought, and pushed it aside. He was not a jealous man. This elf had done nothing to him.

Smiling still, Dynaviir said; "It is a pleasure to meet one of your kind, my good elf. I hope we can be friends. How is it that you know Niniel, if you don't mind my asking?"

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

[piosenniel]

This topic has reached its 10 page limit.

Please continue in The Green Dragon Inn - Part 6.

CLICK HERE FOR INN #6 (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000111)

Thanks!

Pio, Shire Moderator

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