The Green Dragon Inn - Part 5 [Archive] - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

piosenniel

07-22-2003, 01:34 PM

Here are the last two posts from the old thread:

____________________________________________
Dynaviir's post

Dynaviir sat back down at the table in the corner again. So many faces went by; not one familiar. He felt strangely alone, and knew he would do for some time. Until he had seen his pony, Doienwei, anyway. He wondered if she had enough food, and if she was at peace. He oft wondered of her, when he had no other people to turn. But she was loyal and faithful, and the two of them had each other, and together they did not feel lonely. Dynaviir doubted he would be able to sleep in her stable, and that by the same token Doienwie would not be permitted to sleep in his own room. Probably just as well, he supposed, he didn't want to put her through the torment of watching her master grieving by the fire.

The minutes went by, and Dynaviir felt tired. He couldn't bring himself to finish his meal; as delicious as it was, and as hungry as he felt. Something bothered him at the back of his mind, but he did not know what yet. Slowly he stood up, and so not to be inpolite, took his meal to the bar and apologised for wasting such a delightful meal.

He took a seat at the bar, and sat. He didn't know what it was he wanted. In fact, he didn't even know why he was here himself. To get away from battle, he knew, but still, inevitably he would soon return to the lands beyond, back to the South East - to the lands near Gondor, where his home lay. But even still, he had no purpose to return to the Gondor plains, other than loyalty and a sense of devotion. Even though he had come as far as he knew he could find, Hobbiton offered little more homelyness for him, and in fact felt less so, as much was new and unfamiliar to him.

He sat at the bar, and looked at the ground. He supposed he should go and find Doinwei, and talk to her as he oft did when there was no one near. She understood him as clearly as any man well-learned of the common-speech, but of course could not answer. Dynaviir wondered what she would say if she could. He drew his gaze upwards, and looked around.

Still, he felt oddly alone. And he knew he should at least talk to someone other than the bar-maids, knowing he needed a tale he had not heard, and wondered who would give it to him.

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Tinuviel of Denton's post:

Niniel slowly finished her meal. Yebasian and Scylla, once they had finished yelling at each other, had settled down to reminiscing over each other's past adventures. She felt very left out and decided to look for someone else with whom to speak.

There was an elven lady seated at a table in a corner, but Niniel still felt greatly in awe of these fairest of folk, excluding Soronume. Everyone else seemed to be in their own groups--well, all except for a man seated alone at the bar. Like Soronume had been when she met him. Well, maybe meeting him would prove to be as enjoyable as meeting Soronume had.

She got up and approached, somewhat amazed at her own daring. The man was staring at the floor and didn't see or hear her approach. He had a sword sling at his back, and Niniel had no doubt that he would not hesitate to use it if necessary. Though not in the Inn, as it was against the rules.

"Ex-excuse me," she said softly. "M-m-may I-I join you?"

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

piosenniel

07-22-2003, 01:35 PM

~*~*~*~* smilies/smile.gif Notice of New Game Opening smilies/smile.gif ~*~*~*~~*

The X Phial, Belin, and Susan Delgado invite you to play:

~*~*~*~*~*RECLAIMING THE LOST KINGDOM ~*~*~*~*~*

The Discussion Thread is now open to take on characters.

Please read the game proposal carefully, develop an interesting character, and craft a descriptive, solidly written First Post to submit with it.

Should be a fun game - come check it out! smilies/biggrin.gif

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ July 22, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Orofaniel

07-22-2003, 01:45 PM

It was a light evening at the Green Dragon Inn, supper had just been served when Halaith enterd. A long jurney was behind him and this Inn seemed to be a perfect place for some pints of ale.

He seated down at a table, with some other travelers. They seemed tired too. Ruby Brown, a small lady hobbit came over to them and wanted to know if they wanted something to drink.

"I just want ale," said the strong looking man sitting next to Halaith. The others gave a nod and other signs that thye wanted ale to. Halaith as well.

The cherefull Inn was crowded with people and soon the table where Halaith were sitting was in a deep conversation. Halaith joined them soon when he got his ale.

"So where are you going then?" A man asked Halaith.

"I'm going to....well....I don't know actually, just up for a bit of traveling that's all." Halaith answerd joyfully. The others burst into a great laugh.

"That's interesting," they all said after some moments with silence. The only hobbit sitting at the table, named Giplo, explained that he wasn't going anywhere. But the others didn't seem interested in what a little hobbit was up to so they didn't listen that carefully to what he said.

The evening went on, with chatty voices and joyful laughters. Soon Halaih felt so tired that he had to leave the table. They said there good nights as he left.

Beren87

07-22-2003, 03:32 PM

Beren decided he really had to get his mind on the present, his constant staring at things was rather distracting. That man, Durufin, noticed the staring at his apron. All he was really doing was attempting to figure out how he had attained the position. A little work might be in order for himself if he stayed here for too many weeks.

"Well, I've got clothes at any rate, that's something," he said to himself, his food nearly finished now. The room was quite confortable, and the food certainly well worth the hundreds of steps it had taken him to get here. He moved over to the bar, bringing his plate and such with him.

"Well, Beren, how did you enjoy the Cook's good supper?" inquired Ruby. "Being a newcomer here, we're anxious to know, where did you say you hailed from again?"

"Ah, I'm of quite a lot of places really. I was moved around quite a lot as a child, my father and mother were very affluent, see. I generally say I'm from the great white city of Minas Tirith, however, as it was where I was born and our family estate still sits."

The server had a slight in-take of breath, "A nobleman, you are?"

"Well, I supposedly still am, but my title is purely that of heritage. My duties are more or less non-existant."

"Well, either way, the humble establishment is glad to have you." Said the server with a twinkle in her eye.

"I'm very glad to be here. It's been quite the long road, and a Inn such as this is the perfect end to it. I..erm..would like to ask you something. Your innkeeper, could you tell me about her?" The last bit came out quite a lot more nevously than he had intended, but the intrest of the server was peaked now.

"Well, there's not much to say about our dear Aman. She's a great woman, that's for sure. From Rohan, came here quite a bit ago actually. She's got the respect of all the hobbits around here now, being the woman she is. She's actually the second keeper of the Inn now. Anything else you would like to know about her? Ruby seemed to have a reoccuring wink in her eye as she said this.

"Well..actually, I was.., well, is she married?

"Ha, good sir, our Aman is married only to the Green Dragon as of now." She smiled at his question, knowing full-well his obvious intrest.

"Thank you! Well, I've got to meet that man..erm..Durufin in a bit, down by the stables. So I'll be off now to get ready." He went to tip his hat to her, but remembering it wasn't there stopped mid-tip, he shook his head and instead slightly bowed as he turned to walk back up to his quarters.

Dynaviir

07-22-2003, 05:06 PM

Dynaviir looked up startled. He had heard Niniel approach; although being a ranger, he was off-guard and deep in thought in the inn, and was taken quite aback when he heard her voice. He looked up. He was surprised to see a woman looking down at him, and noticed her eyes were for a moment on the sword. He suddenly realised how intimidating it must be for her to try and converse with a man who carried a blade wherever he went, her stuttering made him feel slightly ashamed.

He smiled and looked up to her. "I apologise, but I mean no harm. I could not draw my sword from it's sheath in this merry inn for a long time yet. Forgive me, I oft forget that I carry it."

He pushed aside his left leg and the hilt of the blade vanished from view. He even felt a tad embarrassed, for this was a merry folk's inn, and he did not wish to darken it. But then he thought of the elf who now sat alone, armed with her bow at hand, much like himself. He hoped he wasn't too out of place.

It had been many leagues since he had talked to someone in a true conversation. He gazed up at her feeling self-conscious, knowing he could talk for months about himself, but he knew he wished to hear what she had to say. He spoke at length, but he did not wish to do so.

"Please, if you wish to sit down, I would be grateful. I would be much glad of the company. Indeed it has been many weeks now since I have heard any voices in deep speaking with my own, save the neighing of my fair pony. But I would be glad to hear anything you may say, if you have anything to offer. I myself too have many a tale, but unfortunately, I find I can talk for a bit too long."

He cut his speech there, realising how long he had spoken for. He went a tad red in the face, a bit surprised at himself after he could have merely answered with a polite 'Yes, please'.

Hilde Bracegirdle

07-22-2003, 06:14 PM

The day had worn away quickly and the light was waning before the hobbit admitted defeat. She had only picked up the short trail of a heavy foot under Benia’s window before losing it amidst the hard ground of the inn’s yard that lay before a copse of trees. All through out the heat of the day in vain she had wandered around the inn’s vicinity as quietly as she could, trying to discover a direction to pursue. And dogged by a persistent feeling of inexplicable dread that seemed outside the present circumstances, she tried to remain hidden from view, further delaying her purpose.

Now, back bowed from the long hours carrying Jack Nightshade’s burden, Gilly removed the sword and settled herself in the bushes against the wall of the Green Dragon. Cursing the skill and caution of her friend’s assailant, she listened to the sounds of merriment within. She had not eaten all day, nor did she care too, weak though she felt.

She rubbed her eyes to somehow clear her mind’s acuity before once more reviewing her conclusions. All she had was one clear impression of a boot half hidden in the ivy under Benia’s window. From its size and shape and also the method of abduction she could safely rule out hobbits, dwarves and quite possibly elves. From all indications it was a man that had crept in at the window last night and taking into consideration the stealth of removal, either a ranger or professional burglar – a distinction that was rather dim in Gilly’s mind. But she could have guessed that without the footprint or long day in the sun. She was no nearer to finding her friend than she had been in the morning.

If she hadn’t seen Kaldir at the inn earlier in the day she would have been convinced that he was responsible. For he certainly had proved himself a threatening presence the evening before, even he would not deny that. And what of Silvanis? Last Gilly had seen him was when she had gone to shut Benia’s window and had spied him outside by the well with Vanwe. Could there be some importance there? Vanwe after all was another southerner… someone who might have heard of the price for bringing in a member of the painted sand clan. Silvanis could not be ruled out, pleasant though he was.

Held also in the hobbit's suspicion were the stream of guests coming and going. A few looked capable of mischief, but didn’t seem in a great hurry to leave. In particular, the one that had been repairing the roof of the stable looked wary in a rather of habitual sort of way.

Painfully aware of the circles her mind was describing Gilly sighed as she again pondered raising an alarm, but something held her from it.

Just as the weary hobbit let fall the back of her head gently against the wall, eyes closed, she heard the sound of a door opening. Daring not to breathe, she slowly looked over her shoulder to see Kaldir step out of the doorway carrying a large bundle. He took a few strides then hesitated in the dusk looking toward the stables before quickly pressing on toward the far end of the yard.

Gilly got to her feet, grabbing the sword with one smooth motion. She sprinted into the shadow of the trees that lined the yard, and followed the ranger, noiselessly, into the night.

Elora

07-22-2003, 09:09 PM

Vanwe studied her handiwork to be sure it was properly mended. She nodded in satisfaction and dropped her dress over her head again. She had not eaten all day. In fact, Vanwe had not eaten since the enforced lunch the day before, just prior to the mathom sale. She smoothed the blue cotton skirt and wondered if a dress to fit her had been found in the attic. She didn't recall anything like that.

Things would soon be desperate if she didn't find something soon. Vanwe climbed back out of the loft wondering what three coppers would buy by way of cloth in the Shire. She walked to the stable doors, checked the courtyard to be sure, and stepped out when she saw it was clear. Her pouch at her belt was heavier than 3 coppers warranted, holding as it did the small piece of wood that she had started to carve the day before.

Vanwe entered the inn with the hopes of avoiding any trouble and finding a meal and a quiet place to work on her carving. The hubbub of voices rose and fell like the sea around her inside. The scent of supper beckoned her deeper into the crowd. She really was ravenous, not that she had any right to be. She had barely done half a day's work!

As she followed her nose, Vanwe's mind set out in order the things she had to do. She needed to eat, and that came first, even if it did bring her nose to nose with the formidible Mrs Bunce. A sure mark of her hunger if nothing else. By now, Cook will have heard of how she had charged into the kitchens to boil weeds, as the hobbits had said. Still, Vanwe was prepared to enter the lion's den if it meant food.

After that, she needed to see how Benia and Lespheria were. Maybe she'd feel stronger after a meal and able to face more uncomfortable questions from Amandur then. Then, assuming she found no trouble by then, she'd find a quiet place where she would not be in anyone's way and work on her carving.

"Miss Vanwe! What a rare treat to see you, my girl!" Vanwe started in alarm, recognising the voice. Buttercup had her arms crossed and foot tapping a nice tempo on the floorboards.

"Good evening, Buttercup," Vanwe replied warily but politely as ever.
"No time for fancy footwork now," Buttercup announced, siezing Vanwe's wrist as she went to curtsy meekly. "We're short staffed and Derufin is wearing an apron!" Buttercup shot Vanwe a look of reproof over her shoulder as she pulled the Elf maiden along by the wrist. Vanwe felt doom echo in the distance ominously. Would her absence be the reason why Derufin was wearing an apron? It seemed likely. "You've just in time. Supper has been served," Buttercup said as they reached the kitchens.

"It has," Vanwe said forlornly. "Is there any left?" She really was very hungry. Buttercup released vanwe's wrist and peered closer at her face.

"You really do look pale, girl, Elf or no," she declared.
"I'm very hungry," Vanwe confessed.
"When did you last eat," Buttercup asked. It was the dreaded question. Vanwe glanced about the kitchen, lest Cook overhear. Buttercup noticed her stalling and the tattoo of her foot tapping on the floor started again. Vanwe watched her furry foot rise and fall.

"Yesterday," she replied in a very low voice.
"Speak up lass, I can't hear you properly. I thought you said yesterday." Buttercup's expression ranged from irritation at Vanwe's mumbling, to shocked surprise and then to outrage as she realised she'd heard perfectly well. Deep blue eyes floated up from the floor to meet Buttercup's and then fled again as Vanwe saw the outrage.

"YESTERDAY! Why that's terrible! Just shameful," Buttercup exclaimed. The very idea of missing but one meal was terrible enough. A whole day of missed meals was unthinkable. "I didn't see you at supper," Buttercup said.

"I wasn't at supper," Vanwe said softly, bracing for the reaction inwardly. Buttercup lapsed into shocked silence, robbed of words. Simply unthinkable. She siezed Vanwe's wrist and maneouvred her into a corner and out of the door.

"Just stand there, Vanwe, and no fainting mind you. If Cook finds you fainted away on the floor there'll be no answering to her, and you're just too tall for me to move before she finds you." Buttercup examined Vanwe again, as if she expected the Elf to fade away to the shadow she should be after missing that many meals.... unthinkable, and set to work.

"It's beyond me what could be so important that you can't eat," Buttercup muttered as she filled a large plate with everything she could find. "That Derufin is not so hard a task master that you are not allowed to eat." Buttercup placed the heavy plate in Vanwe's hands.

"I've been a little busy," Vanwe said vaguely. Afterall, she'd been busy not doing any work for Derufin and it was best not to go into that. Besides, she did not want word of what she had been doing to get around. She needed to see that Benia and Lespheria knew to keep the healing to themselves. "Derufin is not a hard task master," Vanwe added. Buttercup opened the door again and waved her back through.

"I'll have a word with him, nonetheless. It's bad enough he misses meals. There's not enough of you to follow in his bad habits," Buttercup announced as if she had solved it all. Vanwe opened her mouth to object as strenuously as she could. "No arguments, Miss! Go find a table and eat, before Cook finds out what's been going on. Between you, Aman and Derufin, it's a good thing this Inn has reliable, well fed Hobbits to keep it in order!"

Buttercup let the kitchen door close upon that statement, leaving Vanwe to her heavy plate. Vanwe moved through the tables, crowded with people, anxious to avoid detection by Cook. Mrs Bounce was even more fearsome than Buttercup on the perils of missing meals. She kept her head down, and made for the nearest empty table.

Vanwe sank into her chair with a sigh of relief. The plate was piled with bread, vegetables and meat. It was enough to feed three people, and perhaps one hobbit who had already had his or her fill. It certainly more than Vanwe had ever faced in one sitting. She studied it, finding the best place to start, and sallied forth. To bring back a plate that was not empty would surely set Buttercup right off again.

As she ate, Vanwe kept one eye on the passing crowd. She needed to find Derufin before Buttercup did, and apologise. He should be easy to find, afterall. He was wearing an apron.

Envinyatar

07-23-2003, 02:14 AM

Ruby and Buttercup had plucked every last grain of salt from the kitchen floor. Derufin, a grin on his face, saluted them, and hung up his apron on the peg by the pantry door. ‘Your turn, ladies! I’ve done my stint as kitchen help – there are chores to be seen to in my stable.’ He shook his finger at the two Hobbits. ‘Don’t go getting all addle-pated over that Falco fellow. Cook is a little on edge tonight, what Miz Aman gone off her so-called errand, and the story that one of our guests is definitely missing and may be dead.’

Buttercup looked at Ruby, a sly look on her face. ‘Go on,’ she whispered, ‘tell him.’ Derufin cocked an eye at the two smirking Hobbits. ‘I’m not deaf, ladies. I heard you. Now spill it! Tell me what?’

Ruby ground her foot into the floor, then spoke softly. ‘It seems so trivial when you think that poor Mister Eodwine might be lying murdered somewhere . . .’ Buttercup looked shamefaced herself and nodded her head. But then her face brightened and she nudged Ruby in the side. ‘Go on! A bit of interesting news will do us all good.’

Derufin sat down at the table, drumming his fingers on it as he waited for one or the other to speak. Finally, Ruby sat down followed closely by Buttercup. ‘Well,’ she began . . . then she proceeded to tell him of her interesting ‘talk’ with the new guest, Beren. ‘More of an inquisition, really,’ she went on. ‘He asked a lot of questions about Miz Aman and . . .’ her voice trailed off, and Buttercup nudged her again. Derufin leaned forward. ‘And what?’

‘And he asked if she was married!’ piped in Buttercup. Ruby glared at her, but Buttercup just shrugged her shoulders and looked at Derufin for his reaction. It was not what she expected. He sat back in his chair, grinning, then laughed out loud. ‘Oh that is a brave, brave man! And especially if he thinks our Innkeeper is some blushing young maiden to be bowled over by a little charm and a ready smile.’ He chuckled and slapped the table with his hand, startling the two Hobbits. ‘Mistress Piosenniel told me a tale or two about her good friend. It will take a man of some mettle to win the heart of our fair Aman.’

Now it was the Hobbits’ turn to raise their brows at him. ‘Well we think he’s a nice young man. And it’s a shame Miz Aman hasn’t any suitors. It can’t be all that different with the Big Folk. Surely she would want one.’ They nodded their heads to each other, and Derufin detected a certain romantic gleam in their eyes.

‘Ladies,’ he said, getting up from his chair and heading for the door, ‘were I you, I would rein in any thoughts about playing the matchmaker. Especially since no one has asked you to do so.’

As soon as he’d left, Buttercup hmmmphed! at his admonition. ‘he’s just jealous – he doesn’t have a lady to swoon over or to fuss over him.’ Her eyes brightened, and Ruby nodded her head, knowing exactly what she was going to say.

‘After we fix up Miz Aman – he’s next!’

'Who's next? and for what?' came the booming voice from the entry way to the Common Room. 'Have you two nothing to do but sit and gossip? The next round of guests need to be seen to, and look at the dishes - they're piling up ladies! Better hop to it.'

Cook's voice marshalled them into action. Ruby sprang up and headed for the Common Room to see who needed what. Buttercup sighed and tied her apron about her. The dishes - she always got stuck with the dishes . . .

Imladris

07-23-2003, 07:50 AM

A tall woman heavily cloaked in a black robe, mounted upon a pure white horse, dejectedly trotted up the winding lane leading to the Hobbit building. Lira, the lady upon the horse, glanced at the sign of the inn: The Green Dragon. "An odd name for such a gentle community," she whispered to Merkaliel, her steed. As she dismounted, she saw a pool of waer upon the ground, the surface gently rippling as the wind caressed it. Throwing back her hood, she saw fair hair splashing down upon her shoulders in wild disarray, her pale elven face looked gaunt in the slightly distorted reflection. Slight hollows made her clear blue eyes look bigger than they really were. Lira sighed and strode into the inn and sat at a table near the door so that she could smell the beautiful green grass, the faint perfume of the wild flowers, and feel the slight breeze upon her face. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat; the air was so close here and her nose could readily pick out the heavy reek of beer.

As she waited, she thought of fair Ithilien and the son of Thranduil, Legolas, the elf hero who had brought an elf colony to that fair land. But at the thought of Legolas, she remembered Gimli. Gimli the Dwarf, friend of Legolas. A sneer of contempt curled about her lips. Yes, he was different from other dwarves, yet he was still a dwarf and thought like a dwarf, and dwarvish greed still stirred within his heart, of that Lira was sure. She turned her thoughts away from the distasteful subject of the dwarf and thought again of Ithilien and Gondor. She sighed as she wondered how often she had come to the Shire and then returned, not yet ready to leave that lovely land of Gondor, not yet ready to leave Middle-earth. Sad memories haunted this land, memories of beauty now faded...

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

Mindez

07-23-2003, 11:07 AM

A small white horse was slowly trotting up the road from the east, and on its back was a battered and bruised elf. There was a large gash on his face, and dried blood stains all over his mud-encrusted clothing.

Still, despite the wounds, his face was as calm as anything, and he was riding up the road toward the Green Dragon Inn. There were many hobbits and men on the sides of the road, giving him funny looks, staring at his wounds.

He reached the Green Dragon, and he went over to the stable and left his horse. Then he proceeded into the main door of the Green Dragon. A few of the men and hobbits in the bar were staring at his wounds, but the elf, known as Mindez, tryed to cover up the wounds on his face with his hood, and proceeded to the bar.

Mindez asked for a room, to spend the night, and the innkeeper, Aman, gave him a small key. Then, after Mindez had dumped a few more small coins on the bar, poured out a mug of ale, which Mindez took and then went and sat down at an unused table.

Tinuviel of Denton

07-23-2003, 11:49 AM

"Please, if you wish to sit down, I would be grateful. I would be much glad of the company. Indeed it has been many weeks now since I have heard any voices in deep speaking with my own, save the neighing of my fair pony. But I would be glad to hear anything you may say, if you have anything to offer. I myself too have many a tale, but unfortunately, I find I can talk for a bit too long."

"Th-that's all right," Niniel smiled. "I--I find i-i-it hard t-to talk too much." She added under her breath, "Besides, I--I don't h-have much t-to talk about."

She looked away and tugged on her braid, a little embarrassed that she had said that last part almost aloud. It made her wonder just what there was about this Inn, and this Shire, and the people here, that made her want to tell them everything. Well, everything that she could remember, which wasn't much.

She glanced over in the corner, to where Soronume sat with the elven lady. The two of them seemed to share a rapport, a rapport that Niniel could never hope to have with someone who was so different from her as was an elf, who could remember whole centuries, to whom her missing sixteen years would be like forgetting what you'd done yesterday. She bit her lip. It was hard to remember sometimes that there couldn't be anything between them.

She shook her head to rid it of those foolish thoughts and turned to the man beside her. "I--I'm sorry, I d-d-didn't in-introduce myself. You can c-c-call me Niniel. What sh-shall I--I call you?"

piosenniel

07-23-2003, 11:52 AM

It was Cook who gave the key to the disheveled Elf. Mindez, it was, or so she puzzled out from the fine script he had used to sign his name in the log book. The gash on his face took her back a bit. She had always thought the Fair Folk to be more skilful in battle. She let him drink his ale in peace then called one of the serving maids to her and had her bring the guest upstairs to his room. ‘And make sure,’ she said in a whisper to the girl, ‘you tell him he can use the wash-up room – we’ll heat up some water for him for a bath.’

She watched him as he sat drinking his ale. ‘Too thin! As usual! No wonder these Fair Folk are fading away.’

And there was another one, standing at the entrance to the Inn. All tall, and gaunt, wrapped in a black cloak, her pale face framed by fair hair. She looked like some starved wild deer, ready to bolt if someone so much as looked her way. ‘Ruby,’ said Cook, pointing the Elf out to her assistant, ‘go over there and tell the Lady Elf to come in if she will. Miz Aman keeps a flask of miruvor for just such creatures. And by the looks of her she could use a drink of it!’

‘And speaking of Elves. Where’s that Vanwe? I haven’t seen much of her today. She’s not slacking, is she?’ Ruby shrugged her shoulders, evading the question before Cook could proceed on to ask if the Elf had eaten. ‘If it were up to Cook,’ thought Ruby to herself, as she walked toward the Lady on the threshold, ‘all the Elves would be as hale and hearty as the Shire folk. With plenty of good meals under their belts!’

‘Ma’am,’ she said to the black cloaked Elf lady who stood at the door, ‘may I help you?’

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

Esgallhugwen

07-23-2003, 12:32 PM

The number of guests increased as the noise and bustle became to great for her ears. Morsereg was probably wondering what was keeping his master.

She stood up about to leave when a wounded elf entered the inn. He walked up to the bar and a young woman gave him a key for a room. Then he proceeded to sit at a vacant table.

He had a blood crusted slash on his face and was caked with mud, but seemed surprisingly calm though he tried to hide his wounds as much as he could.

She had also noticed that a women had walked over to the sword clad man. It was remarkable she had such courage to talk to him and welcome him here.

Now that she thought of it she should have no reason to fear, She remained standing looking around the busy room and decided to offer her help to the wounded elf.

She walked over taking her bow, she would see to her horse later, Morsereg would not mind as long as she explained her whereabouts. Now standing in front of the sitting elf she asked politely 'Excuse me sir, you are hurt I would gladly take it upon myself to tend to your wounds I am skilled in the art of healing' she stood waiting for his reply as he looke up at her shrouded figure.

As soon as she had asked a hobbit walked up to ask the elf if he was ready to go to his room yet.

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

Dynaviir

07-23-2003, 12:33 PM

"Niniel, is it? I am called Dynaviir, and I am pleased to meet you. Please, have a seat."

He had noticed the stuttering in her speech before, but now he wondered if it was more than the blade she seemed afraid of. Was he scaring her? Or was she merely feeling cold?

"Are you cold? You seem to be shivering." he said at last. It had been a cold journey for him, but Niniel did not look as if she had been travelling. "If you feel the cold, then please," he said, "let us sit by nearer to the fire. I wouldn't wamy you to catch a chill."

He was scared of the flames himself, but he didn't mind now, as his concern was overtaking his fears. He didn't know if she was cold or worried, or nervous. He hoped he wasn't intimidating her, he didn't want to upset her. He had come here to relax, but he did not want to intimidate others with his presence.

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

Envinyatar

07-23-2003, 01:26 PM

Derufin stepped out onto the back steps of the Inn, closing the door to the kitchen behind him. But not before he heard the last of the plotting duo’s comments. He shook his head and smiled indulgently at their matchmaking plans. ‘Not to be,’ he thought to himself. There was already a Lady who leaguered his heart . . .

He drew out the letter he had tucked in his breeches pocket, smoothing out the wrinkles on it as he looked again at the thick strokes of the pen she had used to write his name on it. The seal on it, unbroken, drew his fingers, and he slipped them under the sharp edge of the folder letter in anticipation of opening it.

Sounds of horses moving about restlessly in the pen near the stable broke in on his thoughts. The beasts stamped their feet and shook their manes calling him nearer. ‘What’s this?!’ he said, his brow furrowing, as he tucked the letter back in his pocket. ‘Has no one seen to you?’ He opened the gate to the pen and led them back, one by one, to the stable. The stalls, at least, had been mucked out earlier in the day, and now he filled their racks with sweet hay and alfalfa, and each horse he gave a nosebag of oats. Several trips to the pump brought fresh water for their buckets.

Falmar, the last to be seen to, dipped her head as if saying thank-you. He whispered a few words to her and she twitched her ears with the news, her bright eyes looking him up and down.

He walked back to his quarters, and lit the small lamp at the entry way to his rooms. Those who needed him would find it a sign that he was in. Stopping for a moment at the room where Eodwine had quartered briefly, he glanced in. The window was open, and the warm evening breeze blew in, riffling the curtains. One had caught on the oil lamp that stood on the makeshift nightstand by the cot. He untangled it before it could knock the lamp over and tied it back. As he leaned over the small table that served for a nightstand, he glanced down for a moment, and a small, white square of paper caught his eye.

Derufin poked his arm behind the table and drew out a much folded piece of thick vellum. Curiosity got the better of him and he opened it, smoothing it flat on the bed. The script was of Gondorian style – familiar enough, since it was what he had learned in his own little town. He gasped at the seal the missive bore at the lower right corner, near the signature of the scribe who had written it. The six-pointed star of Elendil. This came from King Elessar!

The urge to continue reading warred with his sense of right and wrong. And he argued with himself, finally acquiescing to that part of him that said here was a possibility of finding some clue to Eodwine’s disappearance.

It was a letter from Elessar to the King of Rohan, Eomer. Thanking him for the loan of his messenger for the trip to Eriador. ‘Ah,’ thought Derufin, reading further, ‘so this is why he came.’ Reports had come to Elessar that there was trouble in the old settlement of Men near Evendim. Elesar had sent scouts to that area, thinking at sometime, to rebuild the city of Annúminas. They were to bring back word of what the area was like at present, and what needed to be done. Three of them had been dispatched, two earlier in the year who had sent back two brief reports, and then one later to find them when there had been no further reports come back. Now it seemed, all three had gone missing. It was Elessar’s hope that Eomer’s messenger would simply nose about the areas near Evendim, and pick up any news of occurrences out of the ordinary. And now it seemed, in Derufin’s reckoning, that Eodwine had joined the ranks of those unfortunates who ventured to see the area for themselves.

He folded the letter, and sat on the cot thinking out what he should do. He did not know the area around Evendim; it would be of no use for him to wander up there, looking blindly for clues. But there was one who did, or at least knew someone who would.

Derufun stuck the letter into his pocket, and strode back, leaning heavily on his walking stick, to the Inn, looking about in the Common Room til he spied out the one he looked for. He shooed off the crowd of admiring females from the table with a scowl and a curt word, then sat down and handed his tablemate the letter he’d found.

‘There’s trouble, Falco, just north of the Shire,’ he said, leaning close to the Hobbit, and talking low. ‘What have you heard, and what can you find out?’

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Mindez

07-23-2003, 03:29 PM

Mindez looked up at the healer. "Maybe later," he said, in a beautiful elvish voice, "Although it is my plan to leave very early tomorrow..."

Mindez quickly downed his ale and stood up, covering his face with his hood again. The key jingled in his pocket as he followed the serving maid upstairs slowly.

The serving maid took him upstairs to his room, and Mindez unlocked the door and slipped inside quickly. He cast a nervous glance at the window, down the road he was coming from, before settling into the room.

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: Mindez ]

Imladris

07-23-2003, 04:42 PM

Lira smiled longingly as she remembered Arwnen Undomiel and her marriage to Elessar. She had been present at the wedding and had watched it afar off. The beauty of Arwen was beyond words or description: the mystery of the night, the fair light of the stars in her eyes. Lira was accutely aware of her own lack of beauty and, according to both elves and men, she was simply unattractive. She was tall and slim like a willow, but she had always been a little too thin and her face always seemed a little gaunt. Her hair was not a lusterful golden hue but pale with streaks of white in it, making her blue eyes look even more intense. Yet, what truly endeared her to the elves was her beautiful voice, it was celestial almost. Lira had been told from other elves that her voice was hauntingly beautiful when she sang, bewitching when she spoke. Such compliments had always made Lira uncomfortable and it annoyed her when men looked at her with fearful awe. She was an elf-maiden, and nothing more.

Lira was snapped out of her reverie by a Hobbit voice asking, "Ma'am, may I help you?"

"Yes," Lira replied, a slight elvish accent in her voice as she answered in the Common Tongue, "a stable for my mare and something to drink that is not beer or ale."

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

Esgallhugwen

07-23-2003, 06:01 PM

The Lady bowed, moving out of his way as he stood up. She must visit Morsereg, it was already darkening outside, and since the Elf man politly declined her offer she now had to tend to her horse's leg wound.

She had to allow it to dry and air out before she could proceed further with the treatment. He was a quick healer but needed medicine to help from scarring and infection.

She turned aside and was about to head out the door, but remembered she needed a room key before it became to late. At the counter a woman perhaps the Cook handed her a key, she thanked her and went out the door.

piosenniel

07-23-2003, 06:16 PM

Ruby invited the Elven lady to step in and showed her to a table. ‘I’ll have our stableman take care of your horse, ma’am. Which is yours, by the way?’

With a deft hand, Ruby sat a small carved crystal glass in front of the Lady, and poured out a generous helping of the Elvish spirit. ‘Now, if you’ld like something else beyond that, we’ve all manner of teas and juices. And if you’re hungry, we can bring you a plate of chicken and dumplings and fresh vegetables from the garden.’ She curtsied to the Lady and turned to leave, then turned back once more.

‘My name is Ruby, by the way, ma’am. And what might we call you?’

littlemanpoet

07-23-2003, 07:51 PM

‘There’s trouble, Falco, just north of the Shire. What have you heard, and what can you find out?’ The big man from Gondor leaned over the table, glowering at him, watching for his reaction after reading the note. This was big news by anyone's standards. Three Gondorians gone missing, and now this Eodwine of the Rohirrim, all in the area of the Lake up north.

"Well now," said Falco, to gain time. He wasn't ready to admit that the whole thing was beyond him, though he thought it most like to be. Maybe this was business for the War Heroes. It didn't rightly seem to be Shire business, as it were. This was a concern of the big people. He supposed he was going to have to admit that he had nothing to offer within the limited scope of his travels about the Shire.

One of the working lasses came by to pick up after the finished meals, looking so fine and big eyed. Buttercup, it was. Falco smiled and winked at her, and she blushed something fierce, smiling herself to rival the sun before she moved on.

"Well now, friend Derufin, this surely makes it seriouser. And me being a shirrif, if there was anything I could tell you from my dealings within the Shire borders, you can be sure I'd gladly tell you. But this traveler who come to us with the satchel and its broken harp, now, he might know a thing or two. He's being brought over by a patrol from Michel Delving. I was with 'em but once we got word from you they sent me on ahead by pony. And don't you be takin' it hardlike that I stabled 'im up at the shirrif house instead o' here. We still got some rules amongst us, an' not of Sharkey's making neither."

Derufin frowned and rubbed his chin, and eyed Falco. "Are you sure you haven't heard the least bit of word about anything up north?"

"Not even the wee tiniest, leastways other than what I overheard from the Mayor hisself the other day, as sayin' now that the Rangers is all gone the shirriffs'll have to do their part to watch the borders a might better than before, which we all knowed anyways, and that meant keepin' word flowin' from Bree to the Towers an' back an' up an' down the north an' south o' the Shire for word of Ruffians an' goblins an' pockets o' the shadow that still need stampin' out since the King's sway still needs growin' an' ain't altogether here yet."

The Gondorian's eyes widened at something Falco had said, only he wasn't sure what in all that rattle it had been, but not being one to clap his trap he kept on talking away about what the Mayor had been saying until Derufin held up a hand, and he stopped.

"So what you're telling me," the tall big person said with his eyes needle sharp, "is that the Mayor knows that there's something up north that used to be an ally of the Shadow. And King Elessar's plans to rebuild Annúminas depend on finding out who or what is up there and clearing it out."

"You might say that's the gist of it," Falco allowed, "though it's strictly hearsay."

Ruby came by and wiped up the very same spot Buttercup had cleaned spotless moments before. Falco smiled and winked at her and she blushed and smiled back as pretty as you please, not without giving her cohort a meaningful look before she moved on.

"Is there any word what kind of something it is? Goblins? Ruffians? Something else?"

"I can't rightly say, but I heard the Mayor use a foreign sounding word, begging your pardon, black and somethin' like numerous, or nominal, or some such. I couldnt' make head or tail, but it stuck in my memory. What do you make of it?"

Esgallhugwen

07-23-2003, 08:03 PM

She looked out into the darkness as stars began to run across the sky. Breating in the cool night air she walked over to Morsereg. He whinnied in greeting then snorted in question.

'Just thinking, I see you have been tended to with food and water now lets have a see at your leg' she replied. He lifted his leg slightly unable to lift it further without an aching pain, kneeling down she began to massage it slowly allowing blood to flow and loosening up the muscle.

Leaning over she untied her pack from the saddle she had resting on the frontpost. Opening a small pocket she pulled out a clear jar with a light pink cream in it, twisting it open she dabbed her finger in and began rubbing the cream into the long cut, the pink slowly began to dissappear.

All other wounds were healed on him with no scarring except this one which still needed healing, there didn't seem to be any sign of infection so perhaps it was only deep. She too had wounds but they had healed all but two.

Sighing she leaned against the wooden wall. Images and memories slashed through her head like a flaming sword, and she couldn't stop them from intruding.
Her heart raced, breaking out in sweat; flames roared in front of her, trees burning, houses falling, her kin screaming caught up in the blaze, some fighting others fleeing. Her eyes widened with rage and horror clenching her blood stained sword, bow and quiver strapped to her back.

She screamed out in rage a most unearthly and horrible sound it was for an elf to make. Voices whispered in her head " Lady, Lady Esgallhugwen, you know it is best for your people you're father wishes it so... you must obey him; you know what will happen if you don't" the voice rang "I shall not obey him, he has no power over me or his own people that is why he wishes this to be done, and if I shall perish by his hand to rid my kin of his insanity so be it!" She had cleared out some of the people already, but she had not acted quick enough.

'Betrayers!' she yelled out loud startling her horse. She awoke to find him nudging her gently. He too was shaken he knew what she felt, he was there.

Esgallhugwen rose to her feet giving Morsereg a final pat and rub on the head.
Hopefully she would be able to rest tonight.

Sirithheruwen

07-23-2003, 08:25 PM

A very large tree was striding up the road that leads to the Green Dragon. In fact, it wasn't a tree at all, but looked very much like one: it was very tall, around fourteen or fifteen feet, it didn't have a visible neck, and it seemed to be covered in a green/grey bark. The arms, on the other hand, were smooth, and the toes (there were nine)were ong and root like. But the eyes were the most remarkable, and even the litle hobbits accross the street from him could see that they were very large, and were brown shot with green light. They seemed to hold great wisdom. This creature was called an ent, and his name was Greenlimb.

As he strode along, he hummed a song to himself. It went something like this:

Hoom boom tum trum hrum hroom

As he walked up to the inn, he gave a great booming laugh, and bent his head to walk through the door.

Inside there were many elves and hobbits milling around and drinking ale. There was a very thin elf maiden who turned to stare at him, and he acknowledged her with a wink of one of his beautiful eyes.

He cought the eye of a passing hobbit, and said in a deep rich voice, "Have you seen any entwives?" He walked up to many and asked many times, but the answer was always no. Finally, after being rejected many times, he walked over to the cook and said, "Hroom hum, I was wondering, kind woman, if you have an entdraught or two?" She looked puzzled and replyed, "No, 'fraid not. Anything else I can get you?"
"No? no wonder you are the little people! Hum, hroom, do you have nice clean well water? That would do just fine at the moment."
She led him back behind the inn and drew a bucket full of water. He drank deeply and sighed when he was done.
"Would you like a room mister...?" The cook asked.
"Greenlimb. And no, but thank you kindly. I'll stay out here.

With that, he closed his eyes. His toes semmed to grow longer, and dig into the soil, and he reached his arms up above his head. The cook was left standing with a lone beech tree.

Osse

07-23-2003, 09:10 PM

Ferdibrand sat hunched over the reins of his cart and cast impatient looks in the direction of the door to the inn. Where is that dratted boy??
The pleasant air of the evening had done nothing to improve his mood and if anything the time he had had to brood had caused the usually amiable hobbit to become even more ill-tempered.

He even snapped viciously at young Tom Gardner, who he usually got on so well with, as he greeted him jovially. Tom slinked off with a hurt look over his shoulder and went up the road towards Hobbiton. Ferdibrand contemplated going after Tolman to make ammends, but just as he was clambering down from his cart, the door of the Dragon opened . Light and smoke poured out of the doorway mingled with the sounds of merrymaking from within.

To his horror Ferdibrand caught the sound of his nephew's voice, singing no less, and with dwarves from the sound of it. Merimac had been instructed to pay the inn-keeper and meet Ferdibrand outside; it seemed he got somewhat distracted.

Ferdibrand strided up to the still-open door and wriggled his way throught the throng of people. Every head in the place had turned to watch Merimac and his dwarven comrades sing. The fiddler who had played the jig before was now pumping out a fast, well known tune, to which Merimac was singing. Ferdibrand stayed out of Merimac's sight until the last minute when he descended upon him in full chorus. Ferdibrand's yells mingled with the voices of the dwarves. Still screaming, he grabbed Merimac by the ear and hoisted him towards the door.

The fiddle abruptly stopped, not a sound was to be heard except the ravings of Ferdibrand as he dragged Merimac over the threshold. All eyes were turned to see the door slam shut behind them.

Ferdibrand's shouts echoed in through the open window.

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: Osse ]

Tinuviel of Denton

07-23-2003, 09:16 PM

Niniel smiled at Dynaviir. He seemed to be truly concerned for her welfare, a trait all-too-often missing from the people with whom she found herself. "N-no. I--I am n-n-not cold. I-i-if you want t-to stay here, th-that is p-p-perfectly all right with me."

He'd been glancing at his sword, and now covered it a little more with the edge of his cloak. She supposed he'd noticed her glances at it and didn't want to make her nervous. She smiled again. "Y-y-your sword i-i-is very well-made. W-w-where did you g-g-get it?"

It was a lovely weapon, as unlike the ones she was used to seeing as could be imagined. Only, she could almost remember a fine sword, or was it a longknife?, that someone had given her when she was still learning her trade.

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

Esgallhugwen

07-23-2003, 10:09 PM

Taking up her pack Esgallhugwen walked back through the door, stumbling slightly her leg had begun to ache. She grimaced at what just happened, anger washed over her slightly clenching her pale fists underneath her green cloak.

She passes by the merry folk, afraid unwilling to stop to talk or to look. Walking by as fast as she could without making it look like she was frantic and upset.

Her cloak raising up after her revealing her raiment of dark and light greens with a blue silver shirt underneath, her dark brown belt embossed with elvish knotwork. Similar embossed gauntlets she had bound tightly around her lower arms. A silver chain was hung about her neck, twisted frail knots and in the midst of it was a moon-stone.

Taking no heed of the scurrying people about her she flew up the stairs, and quickly finding her room she entered into it. Closing the door, she unpacked some of her belongings and undid her cloak; pulled up a chair and sat by the window looking at the night sky.

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

Envinyatar

07-24-2003, 02:41 AM

Derufin ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, bringing them to rest on the back of his neck, as he rolled the misheard words about in his mind, and mouthed them silently. His eyes were fixed on the grain of the table top as if the whorls there would lead him to an answer.

Falco, relatively unconcerned about the effect his garbled phrase had on the Man, had raised his empty mug and was waving it for a refill. He had nearly caught the eye of a server across the room, when he heard the Man exclaim. ‘It cannot be!’ Derufin reached out and grabbed Falco’s arm, bringing the empty mug down on the table with a thud. ‘Pockets of shadow, the Mayor said,’ asked Derufin, ‘and that other word, the one you said sounded foreign – where did the Mayor hear about this, do you know?’

Falco shrugged, a puzzled look on his face, saying that perhaps Derufin should wait to ask this question from the wanderer they’d picked up – the one who’d brought in the broken harp. And that was all the information Derufin was able to get from him. He excused himself, leaving Falco to wave his mug once more, and made his way to the kitchen, hoping to find Cook there.

It had been a long day, and his ankle was beginning to pain him. He leaned heavily on his walking stick, and thought he might get her to rewrap the bandage and perhaps give him another dose of willow-bark tea. Cook was busy, dishing up apple crisp for dessert and had no time to deal with his ankle. Worse yet, she said she had run out of willow-bark powder, and would get none in until Gammer Nutmeg came on the morrow with her baskets of herbs and healing powders.

Out of sorts, and irritable, Derufin returned to the Common Room intending to go back to his room . . .

_____________________________________________

Elora's post

Vanwe picked at what remained on her plate, impossibly filled and unable to take another bite. It seemed wrong to send the plate back in, even though she had eaten most of it. Large meals were difficult for her to attempt, used as she was to much more modest portions. She sighed in defeat and set down her fork as she looked up in time to catch Derufin emerge from the kitchen. Vanwe's stomach, filled as it was, sank a little lower. He'd be very cross with her, and rightly so.

Reluctantly, she pushed up from her chair, collected her plate and crossed to intercept the man.

"Sir," she said as she neared. He looked at her in query, questions in his eyes.
"Vanwe, I see you're feeling brave," he said. Vanwe lowered her head, missing his wave at her not quite empty plate.
"I'd not venture back into the kitchen until you've finished your supper."

Vanwe glanced at her plate in surprise. "I can't eat any more," she said earnestly, looking back up at him again. It was then that she noticed something. "Are you hurt, Derufin," she asked. He blinked, her question having many possible layers.

Derufin shook his head brusquely. "No, naught to be concerned about," he replied.
"You are," Vanwe persisted. "I could help, if you wish." An ankle pained him... at least she thought that it did. Maybe it didn't. Derufin was examining her closely. She blinked, as if clearing her mind, and nodded. "Yes, I can help," she repeated.

It may be the third healing in two days, and she utterly unschooled in how to control and manage her skills, but she felt a little stronger after supper. "Wait here! I won't be long," Vanwe said firmly and scampered away to wash her plate. Derfuin watched her leave, decided and without so much as a please or by your leave. It was uncharacteristic of the skittish Elf he knew.

Vanwe reappeared, cheeks a little flushed after the dressing down from Cook on missed meals. Thankfully, she mananged to dart in and wash off her plate, and return reasonably quickly.

"Where would you like to sit, Derufin? Here or somewhere quieter?" Vanwe hoped he wanted to sit somewhere quieter, where not so many people were about to witness. The idea of open healing before an audience deeply unsettled her. All it took was for one person to rise, point their finger and shout "WITCH" and they would come for her as they had for others.

Derufin continued to study her, as if doing his level best to understand what his new assistant was about. Her absence in recent days was unexplained, noone had seen hide nor hair of her. Now she suggested she could help his ankle, which was healing well enough, even if damned slowly. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and returned his gaze with clear eyes that searched his own.

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Envinyatar

07-24-2003, 03:22 AM

‘Come to the stable, Vanwe. To my quarters. You can see to my ankle there if you wish. I’ve no desire to have it be a topic of general conversation in the Inn tonight.’

Derufin sighed, if nothing else she could wrap his ankle tightly as Cook had done, perhaps put a poultice on it. He could feel his boot getting tighter by the minute as the offending joint swelled up and pushed against its confinement.

‘Do me a favor, if you will. Cook is just parceling out her apple crisp. Bring me a dish, with some clotted cream to spoon on it, and I’ll let you heal both my ankles if you wish.’ He winked at her with a half smile. ‘You can tell Cook it’s for you – that should garner a few points with her.’

He smiled widely at his joke, his small attempt at humour meeting only the reserved assessment of her clear grey eyes. ‘Just playing, little bird,’ he said gently, his grey eyes playing over the solemn features of her face. He shifted his weight, easing the pressure on his left leg. ‘Seriously, though, I have a certain desire for some sweets.’ He reached forward unconsciously and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, letting his hand fall when he realized the liberty he’d taken.

Derufin stepped back, his brow furrowed, collecting himself. ‘The stable, then, if you will, Vanwe . . . when you have time . . .’ He turned and made for the door, slowly, the thump . . . thump of his walking stick sounding loud in his ears.

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

Elora

07-24-2003, 04:26 AM

"I will not be long," Vanwe said after Derufin. Already he was heading off. When he had lifted his hand, she had expected the rebuke for her negligence in her duties she deserved. Braced as she was for the punishment, it did not fall across her cheek. It surprised her a little, to say the least. Feeling somewhat off balance, Vanwe ventured back into the kitchen.

Cook noted her entrance with a surprised look of her own. Vanwe had all but ran from the kitchen like a scalded cat after her last encounter. Why the girl did not see that she was only trying to help her, she did not know.

"What is it, Vanwe," Cook inquired as gently as she could. The Elf seemed somewhat sensative to a word of stern advice. Buttercup was grumbling about washing up at the sink.

"Please, Mistress Cook, Derufin has asked me to fetch him some dessert," Vanwe said warily. Cook smiled in a fond manner at the mention of his name.

"Of course he did. He's partial to sweet things, is Derufin. It'll be my apple crisp he's after. He was eyeing that closely indeed." Vanwe nodded in confirmation. "He'll want some of the clotted cream too, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, he did say that," Vanwe replied as Cook moved to locate some plates.

"What about you," Cook said as she brought out two plates. Vanwe hesitated there, sensing possible trouble ahead if she was not careful. "Speak up Vanwe," Cook said as she brought the deep dish that was kept in the warmer out. She fixed Vanwe with a firm stare, daring her to say no. Vanwe was positively filled to the brim as it was.

"Yes, please Cook," she said. Mrs Bunce nodded in satisfaction at the correct answer.

"That's better," Cook said as she filled each plate with the crisp. It steamed and Vanwe smelt cinnamon that reminded her of the village. The apple crisp was placed back in the warmer near the stove and soon Cook had the clotted cream out from the coolroom, scolding Ruby who longingly gazed at it before passing it up to Cook.

"There now. Be careful with my plates, mind you," Cook instructed as she placed a linen over each, spoon within the plate and passed them to Vanwe.

"I shall be, Mistress Cook," Vanwe dutifully replied and with a firm grip on each lest it spring from her fingers, she weaved through the crowd and out the door of the inn.

In her careful custody, the apple crisp found Derufin sitting in his chair in the stables, a lamp nearby on a table to which she added the plates. He smiled at their arrival. As she had crossed the courtyard, full as she was and despite the reminder of the south, their scent had warmed her too.

Derufin had raised his injured ankle to rest on a low stool, his cane propped nearby within reach. Hands free of their precious cargo. Vanwe dropped by the raised ankle.

"You don't want yours to go cold," Derufin said as he realised she intended to get straight to business. Vanwe studied his ankle.

"I'm in no hurry for mine just yet. If it pleases you, I'll remove this boot before the swelling gets worse," Vanwe said to his ankle. Remembering his enthusiasm for the crisp, she smiled faintly and looked up at him. "You can start on yours if you like, Derufin."

He switched the cloth over one plate aside and claimed it. "You sure," he asked, spoon midair. Vanwe started working at his boot with gentle but firm fingers. Derudin sucked in a breath and held it tightly. "I guess you are," he said. She soon had the boot off and his ankle set back down. Derufin slowly let out his breath.

The strapping had been done well, she saw. It was tight, but the swelling would be placing considerable pressure on him. Now that she was focused, pain waved through her. It was astonishing that he'd been walking about, serving supper, even with a cane. Gathering her thoughts, Vanwe set her fingers every so lightly over the strappings and sank into what she sensed.

It was getting easier to do, with all the recent practise. The wrongness of muscle and sinew was palpable beneath the skin. Tendon and flesh was bruised. When she heard Derufin's seemingly distant voice say "Well, yes it does hurt... What are you doing," she realised she had been murmuring.

Opening eyes she didn't recall closing, she blinked in the lamp light and looked back up at Derufin. "It's hard to explain. I find what seems right and true and return the to how it should be." Much like how she sensed what was within timber, to be honest. "I think I can help relieve the swelling, and perhaps ease the injury within your ankle."

Derufin was happily engaged with his apple crisp, clotted cream and the sensation of relief that faintly came from his ankle. Vanwe withdrew back into her senses, and set about delivering on her promise. It was about listening to what she was able to detect. Where did the divergence lie between what should be and what was? Once she found that, it was a matter of bridging that chasm, and bringing it back into line.

She bent her head, leaning over the bandaged ankle, focusing all her abilities. This was easier than Benia's broken bone. There was not quite so much damage to knit. When she found the dischord impossible to detect, Vanwe sighed deeply and sank back. She opened her eyes and realised that she had been able to loosen bandages that had been taut so as to better sense through the skin with her fingers. She really should have asked before setting her hands directly upon his skin, and her cheeks flushed with the audacity.

She worked at re-strapping the ankle, the stable weaving a little around her as she did so. This was worse than how she had felt after Lespheria. She was tired. Deft fingers fastened the strapping and Derufin experimentally flexed his ankle with considerable caution.

"You should still keep weight off it, to allow the ankle to knit properly," Vanwe said. The swelling had abated and the joint seemed much more reliable than it had. Derufin had finished his apple crisp and Vanwe had no idea how long it had taken.

"So that is Elven healing," he said.
"I do not know. Proper healers are likely to be far more skilled than I am," Vanwe confessed. And less likely to feel as though the rug had been tugged out from underneath their feet. At least she was already on the floor, she conceeded to herself, and less likely to foolishly keel over. "It is what I have been doing lately. There have been some guests in need of healing," she confessed.

"Ah ha," Derufin replied. "Now, what about your apple crisp?" He motioned for her to stand, and she did so carefully. "There's a chair over there," he said. Vanwe gratefully dragged it closer and sank into it.

"I don't think I could eat it. I've eaten in one supper what I usually ate in a week, in plentiful times that is," she replied. Tired, she neglected to censor what she was saying. Her past was one thing she had not discussed with Derufin and one thing he had never quizzed her on.

"Well we can't send it back to Cook," he said pensively.
"I have an idea. Why don't you eat it? Limping is hungry work." Vanwe smiled and opened her eyes. She heard the hopeful note in his statement and her eyes shone with amusement. "I'll take the plates back to the kitchen tonight."

"That's a good idea," Derufin said. Vanwe sat back, relaxing into the chair for a moment. She rested her head on one hand, propped on the arm of her chair, watching the lamp flicker and the light play over his quarters. Likely she should leave him to his privacy, but she was simply too tired to get up at that moment. Perhaps, she thought, if she carved the next one right it would catch the light and flicker as the lamp did, she thought.

"You really must have had your fill to forego Cook's apple crisp," Derufin said. Her gaze swung back to his, languourously almost. "Perhaps tomorrow," she replied.

"There'll be none left by then," Derufin predicted. Vanwe smiled again, slowed by the lethargy that pulsed through her. Belatedly, she recalled what he had said to her in the Inn. Her eyes widened and she managed to get back out of the chair and crouched by Derufin's other ankle.

"What, you've not had enough of my ankles," Derufin said with some merriment.
"You mentioned your other ankle," Vanwe murmured languidly. One more ankle to heal...

She felt something brush her shoulder and glanced up into his face. He smiled gently at her.

"I was joking, little bird." Vanwe undid her fingers from around where they'd laced on his other ankle.

"Oh," she said simply. He winked again, and her smile returned. Perhaps it was her fatigue that had her abandon her usual reserve and caution. More likely it was Derufin's warm smile. Whatever the reason, Vanwe reached for the spoon in the second plate and helped herself to some of the apple crisp and clotted cream.

"That is good," she said after she had swallowed and returned the stolen spoon to the plate. The light flickered as she lightly laughed at her own boldness, merriment in her face, and returned to Derufin an impish wink from where she sat by his ankle.

Imladris

07-24-2003, 07:31 AM

Lira eagerly took the elvish spirit and drained the glass. Fresh strenght instantly coursed through her blood and warmed her chilled feet and hands. "You may call me Lira, mellon," the elvish lady said with a gentle smile as she set the glass on the table. "My horse is the sleek white one with one pale blue eye and one dark eye; her name is Merkaliel. I am not as hungry as I look," she went on. "I have eaten but a few hours hence, but some vegetables would be pleasant." Lira knew it would be rather useless to say "nay" to food to a hobbit lass.

After some time, the plate of vegetables was brought to Lira and she ate them thankfully. They were good: hot and steaming with some flavorful herbs were sprinkled over them. After she was finished, she rose from the table, thinking to look into the stables and have a few words with her mare. A silver shadow flitted into the room and, turning, Lira saw another elf Lady glide swiftly through the inn, and mount the stairs. Lira just barely saw her face, but a look of the utmost tragedy, heart-break, and anger blazed in her eyes. Silently following the Elf Lady, Lira stood before her door and knocked softly.

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

Arestevana

07-24-2003, 09:51 AM

The black horse shook its large head nervously as its rider dismounted.
"Steady, Hara; steady, girl." chided the mare's rider as he dismounted. "Come on, now, let's get you settled." The man led his steed into the dark stables. She shook her head again and backed away from the other animals housed there.
"Hara, come now, you're a big strong horse of Rohan, you're not afraid of the dark. Here" He spoke quietly, gently leading the animal into an empty stall. He unharnessed her and checked to see that she had plenty of food and fresh water. Then he latched the gate and went outside. The stranger stood for a moment, enjoying the warm evening air. Then he ducked into the inn.

He crossed to the bar and asked the innkeeper if she had a vacant room. He took the key gratefully and handed over the money he had counted out, including the coin for his mare's housing. He took a seat in one corner of the crowded room, observing the occupants carefully and finding, to his relief, that he recognized none of them. The stranger then rose and mounted the stairs to find his room, thinking as he went.

It would be a man, he thought, who came. Likely another of the swordsmen from the Prince's household in Ithilen. He did not wish to be caught just yet, though. Not until he knew why he was being followed.

Dynaviir

07-24-2003, 10:13 AM

Dynaviir looked down at the sword, he could see it but he was doing his best to keep it hidden. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, but he tried to bring a smile to his face.

"I...my father made this for me, when I was only seventeen years of age" he said. He wondered if she had noticed the hesitation in his voice, and his eyes which were on the hilt.

Quickly he let go of his gaze to it and brought his attention back to Niniel. He was glad she wasn't cold; he couldn't hide that he was still scared to go towards the fire. He smiled at her more geniunely than he had done, and tried to remove all the doubt from his face.

He was still worried about her. She seemed nervous, but he began to feel it wasn't because of himself. He looked towards her eyes, as if trying to see if she was facing something with the corner, but she didn't seem to be focused on anything. He now noticed that she wasn't shivering, and he relaxed a bit more, as he had done when he had first entered his room. Maybe, after all, she was afraid of conversing with anyone, although the reason he didn't know. He smiled again, and knew he should talk slowly with her.

"I would show you the blade, if you were interested, but I doubt I can show it in here. But, please, where is it that you come from?"

He didn't want to be persistant, and he never noticed how much he was being until after he had finished speaking. But he was worried for her. He was still confused, if more relaxed, and he wanted to see if he could help.

"I am interested", he added, as if trying to be polite. But he wasn't sure how it would come across to her.

Marmadoc

07-24-2003, 10:17 AM

Marmadoc Bundin son of Drogo from Tookbank road up on his brave pony Dewdrop. Dewdrop is a pleasant soul to know; her jolly face and grey coat with dapples are only some of her great traits.

Marmadoc rode up a small incline in the road, he could now see the bright outline of the Green Dragon Inn, with little lamps lighting up the windows. As he drew closer to the inn he directed his attention towards the stable where he would keep dewdrop for the night.

He was just walking out from the stall when his blue cloak became entrapped by a protruding nail. Marmadoc wrestled with his cloak, twisting and turning he managed to get loose with little damage to his garment, but with the force he used he lost his balance ending up almost completly covered with straw. Dewdrop snickered at him, Marmadoc gave her a hard look with his big green eyes, he sat up dusting himself off as if nothing happened 'right then I ment to do that all in a days work' he picked out the straw from the gold buttons on his petticoat.

Marmadoc slowly opened the inn door, peering through at the bustling inn Dwarves and other Hobbits dancing round and singing.

He walked over casually to the counter asking for a pint of ale, but before he could finish his request the women on the other side made a comment 'dear sir were you sleeping in a barn?' Marmadoc looked at her puzzled 'why no of course not why do you ask?' he questioned 'you have straw in your hair' she giggled.

He shook his head straw falling here and there, he went over to a table by the fireplace to warm himself.

Esgallhugwen

07-24-2003, 11:13 AM

The Lady Esgallhugwen did not wish to open the door at first but did not want the person on the other side to feel there was something wrong... to late the other presence she presumed to be an Elf had caught on to her grief, she should have known to conceal it better than she had. No matter far too late, she opened the door slowly.

For the first time her appearance was revealed to another at the inn. For ever since her first entrance into this place she had remained in shadows by way of her cloaks hood.

Not even to the Ranger or to the Elf man had she chosen to reveal herself. She cared not now who saw her for the past grieved her so.

Her green eyes blazed like un-natural flame against her pale skin. Framing her face slightly was dark auburn hair falling down in thick waves. Esgallhugwen's eyes first raged in anger than in sorrow.

She bade welcome to the pale blonde elf into her qaurters.

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

Tinuviel of Denton

07-24-2003, 11:21 AM

Somehow, Niniel had known that that question would come. After all, it was only natural to be interested in the history of the person with whom you held conversation, but...it was not an easy question to answer. Sometimes, when she answered truthfully, she was called liar; other times, she was called cursed. Both types of people shunned her for it. Dynaviir seemed to be pleasant, she didn't want to alienate him, but she owed him a truthful answer.

"I--I don't re-remember," she said. "I--I honestly d-d-don't. I--I'm so gl-gla-glad that you c-c-can re-remem-remember your father. I can't re-remember if I even had a f-f-father. I c-c-can't re-remember anything. I--I don't kn-n-now where I--I come from, I don't even know my right name. I-i-it's not Niniel, that much I--I do know."

She mentally cursed the stutter that made her sound so foolish. She hated sounding like some sort of halfwit, but what could she do? She'd had it for nine years, since she was sixteen. And as long as she could remember. She hated the way that it made her sound afraid all the time.

Dynaviir

07-24-2003, 12:45 PM

Dynaviir looked at her. His eyes were wider, and he stared at her, but gently. He could tell she wasn't lying, but it wasn't what he had expected her to say. A great sense of pity and sorrow filled him, and he eased up, as if now beginning to understand her.

He looked at her, feeling a strange sense of responsibility. "Oh... I'm...I'm sorry, Niniel... Please, forgive me, I... I had no idea..."

He looked away, leaning over the bar, trying to hide himself. It all made sense to him now, but he felt strangely awkward and ashamed. Had she not told him this, he would have thought her lucky to be without a memory of her father... But this was different...

"I'm sorry, Niniel..." he repeated, "I did not wish for you feel uncomfortable..."

He wish he knew what else to say. He looked down at the bar. He didn't want to end their conversation over his own selfish persistance.

Tinuviel of Denton

07-24-2003, 01:08 PM

"I'm sorry, Niniel...I did not wish for you feel uncomfortable..."

She shook her head. "You did not. I--I...i-i-it is something I--I must come t-t-to terms with. I--I have no past but wh-wh-what I make for myself. I--I'm almost used t-t-to it n-n-now. It's been n-n-nine years," she added softly. Nine years of trying to find her name, of running from the nightmares. Nine very empty years.

She shook herself out of the memory with an effort. Dwelling on her lack of a past was a sure way to have a dream that night. She'd learned that the hard way. It was almost as if another sat there, telling this stranger what she did know of herself. Yes, she knew his name, but little else. She never used to be so trusting, but the Shire and the folk she'd met there had changed that. First the little hobbit, then the others. Especially Soronume.

She was glad of it, though, for in the old days, she would have found herself fleeing in from the Inn and all of its patrons--well, after she picked their pockets.

Dynaviir

07-24-2003, 01:21 PM

'Nine years,' Dynaviir repeated in his thoughts. That was a heavy burden to bear for so long a time. And she had no idea who she was or where she came from.

"I'm sorry," he repeated for a third time, and then he turned and looked back to her. He smiled at her, and tried to calm her. He knew it would have been hard for her, and he felt sorry for her. His past may have been troubled, but he wondered what it must have been like to not even have a past...

"I could not have done what you are doing" he said, trying to be kind. "I feel deeply sorry for you, and I did not wish to make you think of this. But to me, you are as good as another person as I know no one here."

He wondered, and then spoke again. "I hope we can be friends, as I am alone too, and I would much enjoy the company of another person while I am here. Though I hope, I do not make you feel like this again... I wish no harm to those who have been good to me, and you have been; you are the only one who has approached me since I have arrived."

He smiled as he said the words, but he still felt sad. Here he was, all the way from as far as Gondor, to the peaceful Shire inn he came to, worrying about his own problems that were past. But he was still lingering on the past, when others didn't even have one. He knew for her there could only be a future, but whether it would be sad he could not say. 'No one deserves that,' he thought, 'and I had been wishing for just that...'.

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: Dynaviir ]

piosenniel

07-24-2003, 01:30 PM

Green Dragon Inn Facts:

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne.

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 late evening at the Inn, on a nice mid-summer's night.

Envinyatar

07-24-2003, 01:32 PM

Her impish wink had been followed by a decidedly inelegant yawn. Derufin retrieved the spoon she had placed back on the rim of the bowl just as it teetered and tipped toward the floor. Another yawn followed and her eyelids, heavy with fatigue fell shut slowly, the lashes brushing her cheek and then rising for a brief moment before she surrendered. Her head lolled back against the end of the bed, and he watched as her breathing slowed.

‘Busy day, eh?!’ He set the half finished bowl of crisp on the ground by his chair and brushed a lank strand of hair from her mouth. He pulled on his boots grunting softly at the tenderness of his ankle, then bent down and gathered the sleeper in his arms. He could see dreams just beginning to run beneath her lids. Standing up cautiously, his weight shifting gingerly on his feet as he approached the side of his bed, he laid her down gently. His hand reached down to pull the spare quilt over her slight frame, and he tucked the pillow beneath her head.

He stood and watched her for a moment, her face, free from worry, smoothed out, her hand tucked beneath her chin. ‘Pleasant dreamings, Vanwe,’ he murmured, as he bent and blew out the lamp, ‘and thank you.’

Derufin went to the other room, the one where Eodwine had slept, and lay down on the cot. Lighting the small reading lamp, he fished in his pocket and drew out his letter. Slipping his fingers beneath the seal, he broke it and unfolded the letter, his eyes savoring the long blocks of script written within. Words danced in familiar phrasings and he smiled as he heard her voice pulling him into the ordinary details of her life . . .

He fell asleep, having read the letter a second time - lying on his back, sprawled out on the narrow cot, left arm flung up above his head, his right hand resting on his stomach. The vellum slid from the bed, as he shifted in his sleep, and fell fluttering to the floor . . .

Meneltarmacil

07-24-2003, 02:30 PM

Eldarmacil left his horse tied up outside the Inn and strode inside. He wore a dark green cloak, under which he wore a long sword on his belt. He removed his hood, revealing his long golden hair and elven ears.

He paid for his room and the stabling for his horse, then sat down in a corner of the Inn with his mug of ale. As he noticed a woman (Niniel) talking with a Gondorian man (Dynavir) at a nearby table, he suddenly remembered the reason that Celeborn had sent him there.

He walked over to where they were sitting. "May I join you?" he asked.

[ July 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

07-24-2003, 02:46 PM

Every one please remember: It is Year 12 of the 4th Age.

All the Ringbearers - Frodo, Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel have departed for the West.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

GaladrieloftheOlden

07-24-2003, 02:52 PM

Herlion stooped down a bit, entering the inn, so as not to hit his head upon the top of the doorway. Upon coming inside, he glanced with slight regret at the sunlit street outside, walls of houses echoing with the yells of small children and the calmer speech of older ones as a slight breeze played with his dark hair. Then he shut the door carefully, though it probably would not have made a difference had he slammed it, so loud was the din of conversation, and looked around.

There didn't seem to be anybody he recognized about. He sighed. It was rather difficult for him to get used to the way the inns worked, all the conversations and friendships started merely on a whim, and often forgotten the moment those involved left the house, to be renewed some other day, or not at all.

Some people jostled at him from, seemingly, all directions, so he moved aside, glancing at the assorted people gathered around tabled or sitting on benches. He found something to sit in a corner, and tried to relax into it, though his muscles simply wouldn't ease up. Finally he managed to find a comfortable position, and pulled out his pipe, lighting it slowly, in the corner, just watching everybody around him, looking nonchalant, feeling bashful.

littlemanpoet

07-24-2003, 04:53 PM

OOC: I will be away until early August. If this means that the unknown wanderer does not arrive the following day, I will arrange an appropriate in-story explanation. I hope somebody can take care of Falco in my absense. Sorry for the excess verbage.

Imladris

07-24-2003, 07:35 PM

Lira asked herself what she had intended to accomplish as she uneasily waited for the door to open. What could she say to calm the elf-woman's rage and relieve her sorrow? She was a stranger and Lira did not even know her name; she had been a fool to think she could help the Elf.

Creaking softly, the door began to open slowly, revealing a wondrous fair maiden whose eyes blazed with sudden anger, while at the same time reflecting a heart-rending pain and grief that stabbed at Lira's own soul.

"Welcome," the woman said, beckoning Lira into her quarters.

The two elves stood in uncomfortable silence as they eyed each other. Lira glanced wretchedly down at the knotted pine poard floor and wished she had not come. Yet how could she leave this woman who was filled with anger and hidden grief? Revealing a slim green garment edged with silver, Lira removed her black robe from her shoulders and gently folded it across the bed. "I am Lira, a Sindarin Elf of Ithilien," she said, fixing her eyes upon the tortured face of the Elf before her. "Even a stranger can heal the wounds of a broken soul," Lira added gently. "What evil has caused you so much grief and pain?"

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

Tinuviel of Denton

07-24-2003, 10:44 PM

Niniel smiled a little sadly. Sometimes she thought from her nightmares that her past wasn't such a happy one, and maybe it was for the better that she couldn't remember it. But other times, she cried herself to sleep, wondering if there was someone out there, somewhere, who could tell her her name and the names of her parents. It was almost a pity that Mardath had left, nervous as he had made her, since he seemed so familiar, but she just couldn't figure out why.

She looked at Dynaviir. "Well, w-w-we've said all th-th-that there i-is to say about me. What about y-y-you? I--I know n-n-next to n-n-nothing about you."

She smiled, to let him know that she didn't mind his asking about her past. It wasn't as if that question was uncommon, after all, what did people do when they first met but talk about themselves? The question of who she really was just was one of the things she could not answer. She had almost gotten used to it. Almost.

Dynaviir

07-25-2003, 01:24 AM

Dynaviir looked away. This was unfortunately one of the most awkward conversations he had ever had. What could he have said?

"Th-there isn't much to tell," he stuttered, sounding almost like Niniel for a moment. "I am from Anfalas, though my father often visited Minas Tirith, and I later moved to Penneth Gelin as a child. Though later I went to serve for the Gondorian army during the war. Now I am a ranger of the South, protecting the people from dark tidings, though few know it."

He relaxed a little, then added, "I wished to meet the Dunedain, but I have yet to meet one in my travels." He stopped talking there and fell silent. He didn't want to go into details about his past, but he knew the names of his homes wouldn't do as a valuable history. But then what else was there to say, other than about his father... his past...

He moved his hand to the top of his cloak and there he seemed to hold something, although it was hidden by his cloak. As he did so he looked down. Then he let it go and turned back to Niniel, and pushed the thoughts aside.

"What is it like up here? To live in such a peaceful place as the Shire? Or... I'm sorry, I didn't ask you where you stay. Do you live here in the Shire?"

Everdawn

07-25-2003, 04:06 AM

Scylla raised an eyebrow at her cousin, who had finally calmed down. "If you will let me explain my dear Yebasian, For your information, the Farmers in question, would be the Danimadid clan am i right?"

Yebasian slowly nodded her head. "That is them." her tone was gruff. Scylla unfolded another piece of paper from inside a pocket of her cloak and began to read. "ah! yes, you see, they owed me some money, a lot of money infact, and i suppose that since i sent you they thought they could get something out of you in return."

"So why did you send me then!" protested Yebasian. "Becuase, the roads are being watched, and i have been stopped twice already. Though they have no idea i have slipped through their fingers. How is my mother?"

Elora

07-25-2003, 05:07 AM

... The sands blew against her face, piercing the too thin cloak she pulled tighter against the onslaught. The wind pushed her backwards as she struggled up the slope of the dune. Her mouth was filled with sand, her legs burnt. When the wind died down, harsh voices shouted from behind her. She twisted her head, seeing the shadows boil over the ridge behind her and terror slowed her further. The wind pushed her back, into their ropes and chains and curses and she had nothing left even for tears as the first rough hand painfully yanked her backward and off her feet...

In the quilt, Vanwe shifted at the mercy of her wandering dreams, winding it a little tighter around her.

... "I do not know it's proper name. I call it the Watcher for it watched over me at need," said a man's low voice. It shimmered in the night sky as if it recognised that name and now her as she looked up at the star she had asked the Ranger about...

A soft murmuring escaped her, lips forming the words of the star's name in a sigh, and Vanwe relaxed a little as she wandered further. The healings, untutored as she was in it's art, had drained much of her strength and her dreams were at the mercy of her deepest memories. Elf, she blended dream with recollection and it lived as though she did not sleep at all.

...Their children's faces twisted with a deeper, more adult revulsion. In sing song voices made shrill by their derison, they chanted "Witch, witch, witch." The more she denied their accusation, the louder they chanted and the tighter they drew their circle around her. She did not see who threw the first pebble, nor the first rock picked up in small hands from the stony ground of the village.

"Stop it," she cried in a child's voice of her own, yet different to theirs as she was from her Mortal jury. Anger burnt through her fear and she shouted filled with wrath. "If you do not stop my mother will stop you!"

The faces grew cold and white. Some gasped at her statement. She was aghast as she realised what she had said. Already someone ran towards a small hut and her stomach sank lower still. There was nervous laughter when the woman appeared, the child who had informed her trailing behind her for protection from the demon child.

"You and your tales!" The woman's voice was a hot and sibilant hiss in her ear as she grabbed her shoulder. "Who are you to be terrifying the children, forgotten spawn," the woman snarled as she dragged her towards where the man she most feared leaned in the shade of the small shed.

The woman relayed the story given to her. "She been frightening the children with her mother. Says she's coming back!" There was a note of fear in the woman's voice that escaped her. The man, though, laughed humourously. He turned away and when she could see him again he had that braided leather in his hands. She stopped her lips from betraying her again with a "No". He dragged her towards him, the woman turned away and soon it was happening again.

Blood, she knew, felt hotter than the midday sun where either fell on her skin. The sound of the leather falling and his sounds of exertion as he brought it down on her back replaced all sight and sound for her and she sank beneath the blows. He would stop, and until then she had to stay silent and listen to his repeated vow. "You'll not bring her back here, cursed whelp."

When he was finished, she could crawl away and maybe find somewhere to clean up as best she could. It wasn't until then that her voice betrayed her silence and in the shade of the animal shelter, she whimpered as she reached for the torn pieces of her shift at her back. A goat bleated at her...

The whimper was still on her lips when her eyes flew open. Her throat was closed and she pushed out against the quilt in the strange place she found herself in. It was dark, and she did not remember it. Was it the lean-to the goats used to hide from the sun during the day?

With a low moan, Vanwe reached with her hands and found a mattrass beneath her fingers. She felt no blood on her back, nor the sting of lacerated flesh. Her frantic breathing slowed as her disorientation cleared. It was a dream, vivid and painful as they can be. Shivering she pulled the quilt back to her and curled up. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. A dream and only that, brought on by exhaustion. She was in the stables. She could hear and smell the horses nearby.

Just a dream blended with memories she would do almost anything to rid herself of. Aching, she clutched the quilt to her and swallowed against unshed tears. Vanwe swallowed also a keening grief that rose sharply from her stomach. No matter how many rocks and beatings, her mother had not come. She never would. Vanwe's shivering did not abate for a very long time in that warm summer night. She placed a hand over her mouth so as not to wake anyone and furiously tried to sleep, this time without the living dreams of exhaustion. Just to sleep, as alone in her mind as she was in life. Vanwe sent a plea to the Watcher that this be so.

"Please", she whispered to the night around her.

Elentarimir

07-25-2003, 07:56 AM

Megilian rode silently up to the Green Dragon Inn. She had been hunting ceaselessly for three days now, and the trail she had been following led here. She dismounted her sleek white horse and walk into the stable, the horse following loyally behind her. "Come now," she whispered to the horse, as she opened the stable. The horse obediently trudged in, and Megilian shut the door. With one last look after her horse, Megilian entered the inn.

It was noisy, and crowded; not at all Megilian's type of thing. She drew her hood up higher over her head, covering her long, brown hair and her piercing blue eyes. She strode confidently across the room to the innkeeper, and asked after a room. There was a quiet discussion, and a few silver pennies changed hands, before Megilian walked up to the bar, key to her room in hand. At the bar, Megilian ordered a small wine. Since she was looking for someone, it would not do to be drunk. After receiving her drink, she sat down in a corner of the room, at a table by herself. Her eyes glittered from under her cloak, as she surveyed the room, looking for the young boy she was searching for.

Esgallhugwen

07-25-2003, 01:39 PM

Eyeing her cautiously as she took off her dark cloak, laying it across the bed lightly. She spoke, her fair voice telling her name and origin, a Sindarin Elf of Ithilien whose name was Lira. An odd looking Elf as she was but Esgallhugwen could make no judgement upon her for she herself had rare traits for an Elf, indeed, no matter where she hailed from. The auburn hair was a tell tale sign of her difference and rare origin, and crystal grey eyes.

Yet all was fairly the same she had great percieving abilities; her skills included healing and that of battle know how.
"Even a stranger can heal the wounds of a broken soul," Lira had said; why not trust a total stranger she was fair and had a goodness within her, might prove better than to trust your own Kin.

They had been good to you except "the Few" she thought. Biding her time with the blonde Elf she answered 'I am Esgallhugwen of the Silvan Elves, my people reside in the east' It was all she would share for now of her origins to her she had already spoken enough. Her clan was now few in number, and her family's original abode was no longer in the east, it was a dark pile of ruble after The war of the Ring.
It wasn't known by many because it was small, and too many battles had gone on then for them to notice.

Not being of a trustful mind was her nature, it would take time, and perhaps she would never tell Lira of her darkness, that was for her own mind and body to have, no other should have to go through what she felt, what she feels.

[ July 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Arestevana

07-25-2003, 03:37 PM

The stranger woke after a breif rest and moved downstairs to get a drink. As he approached the bar, he saw several figures whom he had not noticed on his arrival. He slid his coins across the counter and grabbed his mug. The first was a mysterious young lady sitting at a corner table. She was scanning the room, even as he did. The next-- his eyes slid to the opposite corner, where a man sat smoking a pipe.

The stranger nearly dropped his mug in shock. Setting it firmly on the counter top, he rose and took several steps toward the corner. The man was tall and dark-haired, observing the goings-on with careful nonchalance. Taking another step closer, the stranger forced himself to relax. It was not who he had at first thought it to be. That did not however, make his situation any less dangerous. He frowned, unconsciously reaching for his sword. The sheath he had bound to his leg to keep in from swinging or becoming very noticeable; the hilt was covered by his cloak. Still, the knowledge that it was there was reassurance enough. He turned around and walked over instead to the woman sitting alone on the other side of the room. He motioned to a chair across from her and spoke.
"Good evening, miss. Do you mind if I sit down?"

[ July 27, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

Tinuviel of Denton

07-25-2003, 10:33 PM

Niniel sighed and shook her head. "N-no. I--I do n-n-not live here, th-th-though I have b-b-been here longer th-than I usually stay any-anywhere. S-so far, i-i-it has been pleasant." Far more so than anywhere else had been, especially the mountains. Compared to them, and the inhabitants thereof, the Shire was a paradise, though she did not doubt that it had its faults.

She sighed, and put her hands to her temples. This conversation was getting very complicated. He had something he didn't want to talk about; she had nothing to tell him about her past; neither lived where they currently found themselves.

She sighed. Things had once been much simpler for her, she was sure. If only she could remember something about that time...she shook her head. No use falling into that state of melancholy again. She had learned to live with it, so by Eru, she refused to feel sorry for herself.

Rochelle

07-25-2003, 11:38 PM

She quietly looked around to see why Quellë was so distraught. Chocolate gaze could find no fault in the place, and it even appeared that the roof had been recently thatched. She shrugged and led the white stallion from his holding and out into the sun.

She picked up a brush and began to groom the horse. His white coat gleamed in the evening sun with nary a spot on it by the time she was finished. He whickered approval and content as he whuffed warm air into her shoulder. She smiled and gave him an approving pat before she led him back into the dimness of the barn.

Na sîdh mellon nîn. Alandelu si

She gave him a quick pat before exiting the stable. She would be staying with her hobbit friend Wilmac whilst among the Shire...it truly was a beautiful haven.

Elen Ilúvitauri

07-26-2003, 05:01 AM

Yebasian slumped in the chair before rolling up her sleeves. "Ah! You never tell me these things! If i had known those Rohan farmers were shifty, I would have never put up with their complaints!" She sat up straight to face her cousin.

"So the roads are being watched you say, well its not me they are after its you, if only that monster of a man-"

"Yebasian, you must never speak of it!" hissed Scylla from the other side of the table. "Your mother is well, though your uncle died last fall, his heart they say. The travelling was to much for the old man. And that yearling is broken in and set among the other horses right for ploughing this year." she said.

Dynaviir

07-26-2003, 06:59 AM

Dynaviir sighed. This conversation was going nowhere, and he felt he intimidated her slightly. But he looked at her and smiled anyway. He was trying his best to be polite. But then he saw through one of the windows the tail of a horse being taken into the stables, and he remembered about Doienwei.

"Do you have a pony, or a horse?" he said. "I need to go and see to Doienwei, my pony. Every night since she first came to me I have stayed with her to talk. I'll need to go to her before it becomes too dark, she can become unsettled easily."

He knew he had to go, but he didn't want it to look like an excuse to leave from Ninial's view. "You can come, if you like, but she can be easily startled. She wouldn't mind visitors, though." He smiled again and stood up.

Imladris

07-26-2003, 09:10 AM

Lira narrowed her blue eyes at Esgallhugwen: the Elf Maiden wasn't being very cooperative. Lira could feel the darkness within her, she had seen it clearly in her mien and attitude; why would Esgallhugwen not share it with her, and let her comfort her? Lira had wandered among the tall trees of Mirkwood, Lothlorien, and the Old Forest listening to the teachings and lays of the Elves, and never had she felt such darkness within one. Yet maybe there were Elves like this and she had not been mature enough to feel it.

Glancing again at Esgallhugwen, Lira looked deep into her grey eyes and again saw the deep sadness that filled them, while the anger that had first blazed within them was a mere spark. "If you hide your Darkness, it will not go away," Lira said gently. "Instead it will consume your very soul."

Dragon Elf odin Ragnorock

07-26-2003, 12:58 PM

One quiet night in the Green Dragon Inn a young looking person in a black cloak opens the door. After he walks in he finds a table in a dark and lonly coner. He knew nobody. He took off the cloke he was waring and set his simitare down in the corner.when the watriss came up and tund on the lightthan she saw a young elf about the age of twentywith a dragon scale around his neck.
He was wering travliers clothes and had travling boots on.

"What would you like to drink,"said Ruby
"Can I have an Ale please,"said the elf
"sure" said ruby
"by the way my name is Ragnorock" said the elf.
"Hi I am Ruby" Said Ruby

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Beren87

07-26-2003, 02:38 PM

Beren slowly got up from the table he was sitting at, the man sitting across from him already falling down into his Ale. He silently gathered up the money on the table where he was just sitting, scooting it as quietly as possible into his overflowing coin-purse. Another round of cards, had put him quite well off now. Gambling may not have been the most distinguised of all activities, but if it got him through, then why not?

Turning with a smile on his face, he looked out the window to find a inky darkess. Stunned, he surveyed the room, which to his disbelief was nearly empty. He had meant to meet Derufin tonight! Now he would be in these raggedy clothes until tomorrow, or whenever he managed to find him again.

He silently cursed to himself, not letting the word escape into the quiet of the common room. He may be a gambler, but he'd like to keep that the worst of his known vices. The stairway creaked and groned as he walked up it, not wanting to let his passage go unknown. The man he had been playing with stirred slightly, but did not awake. With a sigh of relief, Beren continued up the stairs. Having a man whom he had just won over 100 gold pieces from awake was not his idea of fun. Well, truthfully, he thought, it would be fun, but he rather liked this Inn and getting thrown out of it wasn't one of the more pleasurable possible turns of fate.

As he entered his room, he lit a few of the candles on the bedside table. His water basin had been refilled and the bed straightened up in his absence, but he barely noticed in his stupor. Clothes fell to the floor before the bed creaked with his entering of it's warm sheets. Rolling over, he reminded himself to see that man in the morning...clothes were certainly needed.

Tinuviel of Denton

07-26-2003, 02:44 PM

Niniel also stood. "I--I would love t-to come. My m-m-mare is also st-stabled out th-th-there."

The two of them walked out to the stable, where Dynaviir's lovely little mare, Doienwei, waited. She was a sweet little bay mare with a short, slightly stand up mane and a gently swishing tail. Niniel was at once captivated. Compared to this wonderful little horse, Niniel's nameless gray was hardly worth a thought, even though her lines were impeccable. Niniel had made sure of that before she stole the mare.

She stood back while Dynaviir went into the stall and petted and groomed Doienwei, all the while murmuring into the mare's ears, which were turned to catch everything that he said. She envied him this love that sprang between him and his horse. Niniel refused to become attached to anything, for fear that she would leave them behind if someone were to discover her trade. And that she had plyed it on them.

"H-how long h-h-have you had her?" she asked, curious as to how long it had taken to develop such a bond between the two. She was beginning to wish that she would become mute or something, because everytime she spoke, Dynaviir seemed to withdraw a little more, as if he was afraid of frightening her away. Mute might actually be an improvement on a stutter that sounded like some sort of half-wit.

Envinyatar

07-26-2003, 02:57 PM

"Please", she whispered to the night around her.

Her plea broke through the layers of dreams, and he sat up quickly, thinking his daughter, Meldë, had called out to him. She had often had dreams that frightened her, and he had always been the one to see to her, leaving his wife to slumber on. But his was not his bed, nor did the breeze that blew in the window bring with it the fresh tang of the Ringló . . . and there, beside him, was the empty bed giving lie to his sleep-fogged hopes. Still, someone had cried out, and he rose from the bed as he remembered Vanwe, who lay sleeping in the next room.

If, indeed, it had been her, she now lay sleeping once again, turned on her side, the quilt drawn up to her chin. He sat on the edge of the mattress, as he had done for his daughter, and rubbed the small of her back. ‘It’s all right now, little one,’ he murmured soothingly to her. ‘The bad things have fled; they cannot find you.’ She hunched her shoulders at his words, the quilt slipping from them. Derufin settled it back over her, and brushed the hair back from her sleeping face. For a few moments, he watched as her breathing slowed and her eyes lay quiet behind her lids.

Rising up, he took his pouch and pipe from the table near the bed and went out into the Inn yard to sit on the bench beneath the great oak . . .

Beren87

07-26-2003, 05:09 PM

The end table crashed back as Beren's head hit it on it's trip down from the bed. His rolling body landed with a "Phlump!" upon the floor, a lump growing on his head.

"Ouch.." he said, quite stunned at this odd turn of events. 5 seconds ago he had been deep in a dream involving an open field and that lovely innkeeper.

Hoping this wasn't a sign, he got up and dressed himself, the pain on his forehead preventing him from even the thought of laying back down. His feet carried him down the steps to the common room again, but it was mostly quiet at this hour. Even the seemingly ever-present server had gone off to bed now, leaving the patrons to either fend for themselves or, if they were brave, to wake her.

Deciding that perhaps fresh air would do him a little good, he stepped out the door and to the small yard around the side of the Inn. Sitting beneath the large oak was a man, softly drawing on a pipe, his smoke going up into the velvety night.

Moving over behind him as silently as possible, Beren leaned against the tree.

"Looks like it's just us up at this hour, mate."

Slowly the man looked up and around, revealing himself to be Derufin. "Ah, Beren, good to see you. I was just sitting here, watching the fireflies dance. What brings you out?"

Rubbing his head, he replied, "Well, just like you, couldn't sleep I suppose."

"So what would you like to do about those clothes? I set out a few earlier, some that might fit you. We're about the same size, though, you may have to take up the legs a bit. I'm an inch or so taller."

"Well, your kindness is unmatched. I'll just be needing two sets for now, just enough to get me through until I can have the local tailor make some or such." He slipped down beside Derufin, leaning his back against the tree.

"I'll run in and get them for you, it'll only take but a minute." He said this as he rose and turned back to the Inn.

Beren sat, silently singing to himself. The fireflies rose and fell with the wind, courting in the night. Their lights flickering on and off as the spun around each other.

He turned his head as Derufin came back, holding a bundle of cloth in his arms. His footsteps were light on the evening wind, but the crunching of the grass alerted as to his presence.

"This should last you a while anyway, they're clean, and that's all that matters". Derufin held out the bundle as Beren got up from the soft ground.

He took the clothes, examining them over quickly, then looking back up. "How much would you like?"

At this Derufin got a a bit uncomfortable, moving awkwardly. "Er..well, I.."

"Well," said Beren, opening his purse, "Do you think 45 would be good?"

"That's really too much..you don't.." said he.

"Do stop, here's 45 and that's that. I thank you kindly, my good sir. And if there's anything you ever need help with, just call for me. I'll hopefully be lodged here for quite a while. Beren said this, pushing the coins into Derufin's hand, then closing it around them.

"That I will, Beren. And the same goes for you, I'm always around." he smiled as he said this, then stretched his hand out.

Beren took his hand, shaking it warmly. "Well, good sir, I'll be going now, hopefully sometime tomorrow I'll be seeing you again."

He turned and strolled back to the Inn, the bundle of clothes packed tightly under his left arm, the cool breeze playing through his hair. Two fireflies were dancing outside the door of the Inn as he opened it, lightly, he pushed them aside softly with his hand.

[ July 27, 2003: Message edited by: Beren87 ]

Everdawn

07-26-2003, 08:19 PM

"That topic of conversation was buried with the man of the subject." said Scylla sharply to her cousin. It was not like Yebasian to dig up the past, but it was her own fault.

Scylla's family had been gypsies, having no permanent home they roamed the lands from southern Gondor to Harad. The matchmaker had made her a match to an old merchant in Minas Tirith. It had been a painful marriage and her husband had been abusive and beet Scylla into a inch of her life. The next time her husband tried to do this, he was not so lucky, and was slain by Scylla who fled to Harad in fear of the authorities.

She knew that no one would believe a girl from modest beginnings, so she set up a horse wrangling business in South East Gondor and began to trade with the other countries. Her cousin Yebasian had been a great help in averting soldiers who were still on the lookout.

Although Yebasian was cunning she was easily slipped up, meaning she was not so good at keeping information to herself when she was drunk. But this never bothered Scylla because Yebasian always mentioned her origional name, Cayatana, who was now no longer in existance. Scylla had taken her grandmothers name, the origional Cayatana was famous among the tribes of north eastern Harad, being said to be able to see a little way into the future, she made most of her earnings reading plams.

"Uncle Rehymid, bless his soul. Was a great man." Scylla raised her ale glass in the air and drank deeply from it. "Tell me truthfully Yebasian, have i not made you wealthy though?"

Yebasian gave Scylla a look of contempt, "Aye, that is true. I am wealthy, even if i have nothing to show for it."
Scylla forgave Yebasian for this. "Tell me now, what have you been up to, it has almost been a year since we last met."

Esgallhugwen

07-26-2003, 09:57 PM

'To hide is not in my nature, I don't wish to hide from it' she glanced out the open window the moon was rising over the horizon, she drew her attention back to Lira who was searching in her grey eyes. 'But to tell you would possess you with the burden of the grief as well, and to do that whould be far too unjust for me to bear driving me into further sorrow' she sighed hurtfully as Lira felt the pain in her voice.

She looked aside at the night sky; Esgallhugwen wanted to weep at the beautiful stars because of Lira's soft haunting voice, but couldn't bare to do it with such company.

Esgallhugwen now longed to walk out among the stars like times long ago, where she didn't have such a burden among her soul. Lira stood patiently with curiosity in her blue eyes, wanting to help so badly.

'Lira' Esgallhugwen spoke softly 'you care much for one you do not know'. There was a brave hope within her, Esgallhugwen could see it in her blue eyes and in her mind.

How could one care so much for a complete stranger? In all her years, though they were short among the elves, she had never felt such openess and williness to help, even among her own Kin who chose to remain sundered from others of any race except those who remained among the household and land of her father.

Esgallhugwen had never wanted to go forth and look for others when her mother had lived, she had been content being with her loving mother and few friends, and did not see why her father sought to restrain his people from leaving and searching for new lands and other peoples of the same race or different, such as men, dwarves and even the little folk.

'Do you wish to go outside, perhaps for a ride?' Esgallhugwen asked politely, wanting to be under the rising moon and stars on this clear night, she didn't feel comfortable enclosed in this room while sharing it with another, no matter how kind she was. She felt it too cramped, it was pleasant to sleep in but not to talk or stay in for a long while.

Dynaviir

07-27-2003, 07:15 AM

Dynaviir looked up at Ninial and smiled. He was feeling a bit more relaxed now, and he was glad she had come. He had wished for friendship when he came.

"I've had her ever since the war ended" he said. "She is from Rohan, and one of the soldiers gave me her after I saved his life. She was very young then, and she should not have been in the battle. But now she has grown, and she has grown with me."

"She likes you." He smiled at Ninial and his eyes seemed to be more focused now, less brooding. "Please, sit down, she would like you to stroke her mane."

He looked into Doienwei's eyes, and he whispered something to her. She neighed slightly, and tilted her head as in agreement. He smiled at his pony. "Doienwei says you look trustworthy, and she would like your company too." Doienwei neighed again and looked up at Ninial, almost smiling.

Imladris

07-27-2003, 10:28 AM

Lira furrowed her brow and bowed her head when she learned that Esgallhugwen would not share her burden of sorrow with her. They were both strangers and it was the natural response; nevertheless, Lira was thrown into a sea of surging disappointment.

She vaguely heard Esgallhugwen asking if she would like to go for a ride, and she nodded yes. Like phantoms they floated down the stairs, for many were all ready abed, and crept silently towards the stables.

A soft wind whispered in their ears and upon its wings brought the fresh smell of grass and flowers. Lira breathed deeply, thankful that the stench of beer and ale was gone. As the breeze tugged her hair, her spirit soared, exalting that it was free: free to hear the trill of crickets, the murmur of water, the sounds of the night, the shimmer of the stars, the silver glow of the moon.

As they glided into the stables, Lira turned her head and murmured, "You told me that I care much for one that I do not know. You are a Silvan Elf, I a Sindarin. We are kin, you and I, because we are of the race of Elves. I asked you to share your grief because if one has a friend, even if she be a stranger now, that burden of sorrow and anger is easier to bear, for now you have one to help you: one to pull you from sloughs of despondancy, one to hear and feel your bottled anger and to comfort you in your distress." After a short pause, Lira said, "This is my mare, Merkaliel. What is the name of your horse?"

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Elentarimir

07-27-2003, 11:59 AM

Megilien watched a young man walk into the room. She sipped her wine, intrigued by his quiet entrance and the fact that he looked somewhat familiar. She saw him notice her as he grabbed a mug of something, presumably beer or rum. Megilien looked away, but watched him from the corner of her eye.

He watched one of the other men, with a look of terror in his eyes. After a time, he walked over to her. Megilien wasn't in the mood to be drooled over, but didn't object when he asked if he could take a seat. The young man sat down. She turned to face him, and took another sip of her wine.

"What's your name?" she asked quietly.

Dragon Elf odin Ragnorock

07-27-2003, 01:38 PM

A few moments later, Ruby brought Ragnorock his drink of ale.
"Sorry, could I trouble you for some cheese and some bread," said Ragnorock
"Sure, it will be a few moments because we ran out of bread” said Ruby
"Thanks" said Ragnorock

After Ruby left Ragnorock looked at the signet ring his very good friend gave to him. I was wreathed in diamonds and it has a bow with an arrow crossing it. He still dose not know what he should do with it. It was his friend's wish be fore he died in Ragnorck’s arms that he have it. Even though he dose not know why. He dose not know anything about the ring. So he is looking for someone that knows something about it. He heard that there was an elf in this inn that knew what it was or knew someone that knows about it. He also knows some elves in rivendell that might know what the ring dose.

Ragnorock looks around the bar and cannot see any elves in the room. So he walks up to the barkeep and asks:

“ Are there any elves that live in this Inn?”
“Yes, but she is not here right now.”
“Can you tell her to talk to me when she gets back? I will be sitting in that corner over there.”

Ragnorock walks and sits down at the table and sat down and drank his ale and eats his cheese.

"Any thing more?" said Ruby
"Yes actually, can you tell me anything about the ring I am holding?"
" no I am very sorry I know nothing about that ring, but I would hold it very close to you because out of this inn in might get stolen."
"Thanks" said Ragnorock

He again looks puzzled at the ring and still tries to decipher why his friend gave it to him. He tries to think back to that very bloody day. He remembers his friend getting stabbed in the chest with a spear and then shot six times with arrows from a goblins bow, and he still manages to kill ten more before he died. After that he killed the goblin and massacred 70 more along with 10 orcs. After that he was so badly hurt he could not remember anything more. Until he got to Fangorn Forest where his other Human and Elven friends took him to see Giladriel. And she told him some about the ring but he dose not remember any of it. Then he remembers someone telling him that there was an elf in the Green Dragon Inn that could tell him about the ring or would know someone that knew something about the ring.

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Elora

07-27-2003, 07:34 PM

The Watcher heard her plea, whispering soothing words in a gentle voice. Vanwe drifted deeply through the night. A peace found her that she rarely was blessed with. Visions of cranes rising on wing at sunset, the watery expanse gleaming with the firey sun beneath their outstretched wings. The stars shone in faint pin pricks above them. It was quiet, and at that time she had been safe from pursuit.

Vanwe continued to blend memory with dream, finding glimpses from her childhood where the beauty had outshone the ugliness of her life. The desert was breathtaking at night. She had often watched it breathe beneath a sky of velvet indigo whilst the village slept. She would sit, knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them to conserve warmth, and soak it in. Or she would carve small limps of wood that had not been burnt in the fires of that night.

Where her brow had furrowed and her expression stiffened in anger and fear, was now smooth peace. Serene in sleep, a hint of a smile curving her lips, Vanwe was content to remember as a voice whispered, "The bad things have gone. They cannot harm you." In her dreams, it was true. They had never been able to take her dreams from her.

In the dusky night of her dreamscape, she turned on bare feet that touched cool sand, dancing silently and arms outstretched to the starry sky. "They cannot harm me," she whispered again. "I will not run," Vanwe added in her dream. Joy at her freedom bubbled up from deep within and for the rest of the night her sleep was troubled no more.

Derufin could not know the gift of his words. A shadow had passed, and the world beyond its veil was bright and filled with promise, much like the Elf that lay dreaming...

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Tinuviel of Denton

07-28-2003, 12:02 AM

Niniel smiled back, charmed by this sweet little mare. And perhaps a little bit by her rider as well. She reached forward and scratched behind the mare's ears, feeling the sleekness of the hide and the rough texture of the mane. The mare whickered, enjoying this extra caress.

Niniel sighed a little. It would almost be worth the inevitable loss if she could really have a friend, for just a little while. But she didn't dare allow anyone to get close to her. They would hate her later. No, just being friendly with someone for a little while, then slipping out of their lives quietly was best. Besides, she didn't need anyone else. She could survive on her own. She didn't need anyone. She didn't. She didn't.

She shook her head. Those were far too gloomy thoughts for this moment. It was a time to enjoy the here and the now, to let herself be a young woman for a little. She would enjoy every minute of this friendship. She would.

Dynaviir

07-28-2003, 04:30 AM

Dynaviir watched Niniel and Doienwei for a while, glad to see Niniel smiling. He had seen so few smiles in his life. But he treasured them when they came, and he wished for the peace a smile could bring. He didn't want to hide behind fake smiles anymore. But he was glad, for as he smiled now in the stables he did not need to pretend.

Doienwei seemed to neigh a little more, and she moved her head around to see her master. Again another smile seemed to spread on her face, as if now at peace by her master's joy. She didn't fidget as Niniel stroked her.

Dynaviir now remembered a question. "Do you have a pony?" he asked, without needing to force a smile. "You seem to be good with her, Niniel."

Suddenly he felt the wind blow on his face as he finished, and he looked up. It was coming at an odd angle to enter the stables, but he was glad for the cool air. It was dark now, but he hadn't realised how dark until now. He looked up at what he could see of the sky and saw the stars shining and casting light below. It reminded him of a more peaceful memory, long ago.

Arestevana

07-28-2003, 10:54 AM

The stranger sank into a seat opposite the woman feeling quite releived. This feeling vanished almost instantly, however, as she asked "What's your name?" Freezing, the stranger struggled to think up some excuse. He blurted the first thing that popped into his head. "What fool would tell his name to a stranger?" The woman looked irritated, but he was thankful that he sounded somewhat believable, if a bit crazy.

The lady opposite him frowned. At last she spoke. "My name is Megilien. Now let's have yours." Four words and his shelter collapsed. He hesitated. Then, "My name is Randir." Megilien frowned again. "Your name..." Oh. He saw the problem, attempted to correct it. "My mother was halfelven- it was she who named me." It was obvious that the lady was still suspicious. Hurriedly, Randir attempted to change the subject. "But enough of me, lady. What of yourself? Where are you from, and what brings you to the Shire?"

Tinuviel of Denton

07-28-2003, 11:44 AM

Niniel smiled back, finally feeling comfortable. Dynaviir wasn't treating her as if she were made of glass any longer, which relieved her greatly. She'd had enough of that in her life, thank you.

"I--I have a-a-a horse, yes. Sh-sh-she's stabled r-r-right over there," Niniel replied, gesturing in the general direction of her gray. It was dim, and there were several horses in that area, so it was hard to tell which horse she was pointing at. It wasn't intentionally misleading, it was habitual. Mistrust had been ingrained in her mind since she was young. Well, younger. She didn't know what her childhood had been like.

"What's her name?" asked Dynaviir curiously.

"She d-d-doesn't h-h-have one."

piosenniel

07-28-2003, 11:49 AM

All Posters in the Inn

When you do edits on your posts, please take time to scroll all the way to the end of the post and remove the previous 'Message edited by:' notations.

This makes the post look much neater, and is the favored way of doing edits in real Game posts.

The Innkeeper and the moderators control the times of day and the conditions in the Shire and the Inn. It gets too confusing if the characters who pop in and out of the Inn try to change the basic format set up.

Please look at the most recent Fact sheet on the page or for a notice placed by the Innkeeper or Moderator that the time of day has changed, or the weather has changed.

Having said this: [b]please note that the Innkeeper, Aman, has moved the timeline on to morning in her following post.

Thanks!

~~ Pio

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Amanaduial the archer

07-28-2003, 12:40 PM

Please note: It is now DAY in the Shire - late morning - breakfast is still being served

_____________________________________________

Aman woke later than she should have done, due to having been awokened last night by Vanwe's low, scared moan. The sound had brought up memories in Aman's mind which caused some rather odd dreams...which had given way to more pleasant dreams....

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Aman rubbed her eyes and tried to remember the precise dreams, but she could only conjure up one particular face. A sheepishly smiling face, attached to a body of rather tattered clothes, rubbing his head ruefully....

Shaking her head and getting up, the Innkeeper of the Green Dragon dressed quickly and swept her hair back into the usual bun, before pausing as she caught her reflection in the long mirror which usually remained ignored at one side of the room. She looked at herself carefully and, thoughtfully, removed her hands from her hair, letting it cascade in a nut brown waterfall over her shoulders as she shook her head slightly to fix the parting more, so her fine hair framed her pale face and bright, green eyes. For a moment she simply surveyed herself in the mirror thoughtfully...before the grating sound of a chair or something being scraped back pulled her to her senses. She jerked slightly, as if awakening from a dream, and looked away from the mirror as if embarrassed. But she couldn't help lingering for a moment, wondering whether her hair was better up or down, before sweeping aside such foolishness and pulling it back up into the bun, loosing a few strands at the front so they hung lightly and casually around her face.

Stepping out into the Inn from her room, Aman glanced guiltily to see whether anyone else had noticed her lateness, but from Cami's smile, it didn't seem that she had slept for too much longer, and the hobbit didn't seem to mind. Breathing a small sigh of relief and returning the smile, Aman turned into the bar...and bumped straight into the owner of the rueful face in her dream.

Beren stepped back quickly, nodding good morning to Aman. "Sorry, Miss Aman, I wasm't looking and...anyway, good morning." He seemed to almost visibly remember his manners and added the last bit. Aman returned the slightly bashful smile, pushing away the blush that had started (it only tended to show at the tips and sides of her ears and the back of her neck) and wished Beren a good morning in return. It was only Derufin, watching from one side, who noticed that the bashful smiles matched each other.

Aman realised belatedly that they were both behind the bar and sent a puzzled look to Beren.

"Ah, I was....Derufin just said I may as well help out a bit."

"Aye, as you seemed to be...otherwise preoccupied." Derufin's grin spoke volumes and Aman wondered for a fleeting second whether the stablemaster could indeed read her mind. She glared at him and he excused himself quickly, although the smile did not remove itself. Ruby, clearing a table, seemed to have something stuck in her eye and was evidently trying to blink it out, before she scurried into the kitchen after Derufin.

Aman smiled politely at Beren, served a newcomer to the bar, then went into the kitchen after the others to get her breakfast. Funnily enough, the talking mysteriously stopped as she entered...

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

07-28-2003, 12:57 PM

~*~ TIME CHANGE FOR THE INN ~*~

It is now morning, the weather is still holding pleasant on this fine midsummer day.

piosenniel

07-28-2003, 12:59 PM

Green Dragon Inn Facts:

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne.

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 the next morning at the Inn, on a pleasant mid-summer's day.

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

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

piosenniel

07-28-2003, 01:02 PM

Sirithheruwen’s post

Greenlimb woke up feeling refreshed and ready to meet the day, whatever it may bring. He drank many buckets of wellwater before he decided to start his search again at the Inn, with the Halflings.

As he walked in, many turned to look at him, but he smiled comfortingly back and the little people turned back to their drinks. He asked everyone in the little room if they had seen any entwives. Some just moved to another table, some just said no, and a polite few thought about it carefully before they replied, "No, sir, sorry, sir."

Greenlimb sighed and made his way out of the Inn to explore, and maybe, just maybe, find what he was looking for. He smiled to himself. This will be harder than I thought.

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Dynaviir

07-28-2003, 01:23 PM

Dynaviir woke up slowly. It had been a beautiful dream. In it he saw a meadow, a place he had never seen before. And yet it was familiar, as if he had known it all his life. He awoke to find himself clutching his pendant. Slowly he removed his hand from it and lifted himself from the bed. Then he lifted the pendant again, and kissed it. Then he set it down again, letting it hang over the cloak he had worn to sleep in.

He looked around the room and went to the wash basin. Roughly half an hour later he was dressed and drying his hair. He had taken a towel from his bag and now he set it back inside. He turned and went to the bed, where lying next to it, leaning on a dresser, was his sheathed sword. He took it and tied it to his belt. He knew he would not need it though, but it was a part of him. He would not leave it behind.

Slowly turning, then eyeing his sack for the last time that morning, he closed the door and closed the lock with his key. He found himself back inside the low hallway for the fourth time. He was beginning to get used to it now, but he still had a few problems with the banisters and the wooden beams in the gaps where doorways would have been set.

He entered the common room and looked around. The fire wasn't burning as it was too early in the morning. He was glad of it, and glad for the cold. He had found he did not need a fire the night before, as somehow talking with Niniel seemed to have made him forget the chill wind. He looked around at the doorway and tried to spot her. Suddenly a hobbit hit his leg from behind, and he turned with a snap, startling the poor fellow and almost made him drop his plates. The hobbit apologised and hurried off, and Dynaviir wondered why he had looked so scared. Then he remembered the trays and he felt hungry, and he turned to the bar to find something to eat.

Today was the first of many days he would finally have to relax. But now, he did not feel like relaxing. He felt refreshed, as if the peace with at least one of the guests had somehow awoken lost energy within him. He wanted now to rush outside and ride with Doienwei, and to have a picnic by the river as he heard many Shire-folk did often. But then he realised one lone ranger from the South wouldn't have been a merry picnic, and so instead he decided he would look for any spare jobs to do. Growing up in a blacksmith's shop until he was 6, and having practiced crafts before, he knew he might be able to lend a hand to someone nearby.

Esgallhugwen

07-28-2003, 01:38 PM

A ray of sun broke through the sky, the stars fled at the sight of it. 'How the night seems to fly so quickly' Esgallhugwen thought sadly realizing they must have been in her room longer than it had seemed.

Lira had brought out her mare Merkaliel, a lovely name for a lovely horse. Esgallhugwen looked at her thoughfully as she walked out her own horse.

'This is my stallion Morsereg, he may look threatening but he will do you no harm' The rays sweeped across his coat which had once looked silver under the moonlight but now was revealed to be almost a dark golden under the sun. The large steed snickered gladly at the blonde elf and mare. His black coat glimmering in the new light.

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

piosenniel

07-28-2003, 02:03 PM

"Ah, I was....Derufin just said I may as well help out a bit," spoke Beren.

Cook had popped her head out the kitchen door just as the young man spoke these words. Filing them away in her well-ordered mind, she motioned for Derufin to attend her in the kitchen. When he followed her in, she took him down to the root and vegetable cellar a few steps below the kitchen, and began complaining that her helper, Minto Boffin had been called away on family business and could no longer see to the garden.

The vegetables needed gathering in, the rows weeded and hoed, the thirsty plants watered. And she and the girls, as she called Ruby and Buttercup, had no time to see to it themselves – this being the busy time of the year for travelers to the Inn.

Derufin raised his brows at her wondering why he was being informed of this need. He shook his head as he read her intent. ‘I can’t pick up these duties, Cook. Much as I like the outdoor work, I’ll have enough of my own for a while. Vanwe’s been called away, something of importance to her needed doing, and that leaves me as general handyman and stableman. In fact, I was thinking of asking for some help myself.

‘That ranger fellow, Awyrgan . . . he did a job for me and did it well – I was thinking of setting him to work on the Inn roof, and the repairs to the porch.’ Derufin noted the gleam in her eye. ‘No, I need him. There must be someone else you can ask.’

Cook rubbed her chin, her plans thwarted twice now. She and Derufin walked back up the stairs, and her eyes caught sight of Aman. The scene between her and that new guest replayed in her mind. ‘There’s the answer,’ she chortled to herself. ‘Didn’t he just say he was looking to help out?!’

Derufin had a blackberry muffin halfway to his mouth when Cook assailed him once again. ‘That raggedy looking bloke who came in a while ago – what’s his name?’

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Amanaduial the archer

07-28-2003, 02:23 PM

"Beren. His name is Beren," Aman answered for Derufin. The stablemaster looked up, smirked, earned himself a rather venemous glare, and returned to his muffin. Aman looked back at Cook. "Why, what is-"

"You haven't had breakfast, have you?" Cook cut in accusingly, as any mother would. Aman was about to deny all charges instinctively, but, realising breakfast would mean the muffins, shook he head quickly and selected a muffin of her own, eyeing the small blackberry which had burst on top and was oozing temptingly out, before continuing.

"What do you need him for?"

Derufin barely stifled a snigger, allowing half a snigger to work it's way around the muffin. Cook looked disapprovingly at him. "Derufin, don't try to speak with your mouth full," she reprimanded him sharply, but she too was barely concealing a grin, and Aman could work out what was going through her mind. Aman's ears began to redden, and she hastily diverted her attention to the muffin.

Cook explained the situation to Aman quickly, before finishing off with a twinkle in her eye. "...and we thought that Beren chap would be perfect. I'm sure you wouldn't mind having him around the Inn, would you now, Aman?"

Aman glared at Derufin before he even had a chance to snigger, and spoke over his grin, which was saying volumes on its own. "I'll go and fetch him," she said quickly, before hastening out towards the stand-in barkeeper.

Envinyatar

07-28-2003, 02:52 PM

‘Yes, ‘ thought Derufin to himself, stifling a laugh with a snort, ‘you just go and fetch him.’ His line of thought drifted off to a dog fetching a favorite toy and he snorted again, choking this time on his muffin.

Cook pounded him on the back as his face turned red. He waved her away after a moment, squeaking out that he was all right and would she get him a cup of water please.

His eyes were tearing by the time he got his voice back, as much from the image that played in his mind of the somewhat lordly Beren, water can in hand, attending on his devoted subjects – carrots, and peas, and corn, and celery . . . and potatoes and turnips and parsnips as well - as from the fact the muffin had stuck in his throat and nearly done him in. He sat down for a moment and got his breath back, his fingers tapping on the table in a calculating manner.

‘Beren,’ he said, winking at Ruby who had drawn near, ‘that’s the one you want, Cook.’

Both Ruby and Buttercup giggled at the mention of his name, and were silenced by a stern look from Cook. Ruby, regaining her courage, spoke up. ‘Yes, and as long as he’s out in the garden – perhaps he could see to the henhouse, too . . .’

Novnarwen

07-28-2003, 03:03 PM

Brottle stumbled up the stairs reaching for the oak door. As he opened it, he entered a whole new world. The Inn was quite full, considering this time a day, he thought while stepping forward to the desk. "I'll need a room," he said while looking with great eyes around. "How many nights?" the woman asked, while finding one of the golden keys. Brottle turned around and stirred into the eyes of the young lady.

"That's a hard one," he muttered without her hearing it. "I'll need a room for this night," he said. "And, the night after that, and the next, and the next, and the next, and probably the next there again," he continued watching Aman's face, full of surprise. "You know what? Just keep the key and when you are out of here, I'll count how many days you have stayed," she said determined. Brottle nodded, took the key and asked for an ale. "A pint, if you have," he added.

Few moments later he settled himself on a stool. Clumsy as he is, he spilled some of his precious ale on the table while seating. Brottle stuck his tounge out and licked the reddish liquid from the table, to great disgust from his fellow drinkers. The hobbit, decided to ignore them, and gave them a what-are-you-looking-at? look.

He thought of the wonderful morning, how his day had started; his wife on the market, him drinking their finest ale in the house, smoking their finest pipeweed, and then all had just fallen apart.

He remembered himself lloking out of the window, wacthing the white clouds move and creating new non-stop. The blue sky was filled with singing birds and it all was so great. Brottle had felt great. Then, the harmony, which Brottle had wanted to last forever, was ruined. The door had opened with a big slam, and therein, came his wife. Catching him when he at least had wanted it; sitting in his chair, being lazy, when he was supposed to do somthing else. The skies had suddenly turned black. And the heavy clouds were about to explode. The rain fell as hard as the hoofs of a horse, galloping in great speed. "Brottle!!" she had shrieked eyeing him being lazy, once again.

The poor hobbit hadn't had any escape, it was only to wait for his doom. It had been much worse this time than the the time before. He was actually kicked out now, was he ever to live with her again?

Brottle drank the last remaning gulps of his ale, sighing when his drink had come to its' end. It ran down, reached his beard and then to his stomach, which stood like a big ball on him. I better check out the room, he thought, setting the now empty mug hard down on the table. He stood up, paced to the staircases leading to the rooms, grabbed a hold of his pocket to lift up the keys.

The pocket was empty....

Elentarimir

07-28-2003, 07:06 PM

Megilien watched this young man with interest. He fit the description she had been given, and was obviously very suspicious of her and everyone from Ithilien. She was pondering this in her head when he asked what her business was.

She shrugged when he asked. "It's really none of your business, to ask me what I'm doing here. But, for your own sake, I shall tell you. I'm an Elf, and I am on my way across these lands to the Havens." It wasn't the truth, but the young man seemed to buy it well enough, and Megilien couldn't have him knowing that she was really here hunting for that renegade. She gave him a smile, not unlike her friend Eowyn's. "What's your business, Randir?"

Imladris

07-28-2003, 10:56 PM

Lira twisted the rough strands of Merkaliel's mane around her fingers as she decided to tell Esgallhugwen her simple story. "After years of wandering between Lothlorien and Imladris, I was living with my mother and father in Mirkwood when Sauron's evil legions attacked the forest. I was a healer there and I saw so many fair elves die, elves that should have lived to see the beauty of the Valinor." She stopped as she remembered the death and destruction the orcs had caused. "Shortly after the Ring was destroyed, my mother and father left for the Havens so they could depart to the Valinor. They begged me to go with them, but I could not. I loved Middle-Earth and I could not leave it yet even though the fair realms of the elves would fade. Thrice I have journeyed to the Shire and made my way to the Grey Havens, and thrice I have returned to Ithilien."

Lira sighed and turned her face towards the stable doors. The piercing rays of the sun shone down upon the green grass which sparkled with the dew. Flocks of birds sang in the trees, glorying in the sunlit morning. A passionate love for this land stirred in Lira's heart and she realized that this would be her fourth journey to the Havens, and that it would not be completed. Soon she would return to Ithilien, or what remained of Lothlorien, but not now. It had been long indeed since she had tarried in the land of the Little Folk and she was not yet ready to leave.

piosenniel

07-29-2003, 02:39 AM

Green Dragon Inn Facts:

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne.

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 morning at the Inn, on a pleasant mid-summer's day.

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

Dynaviir

07-29-2003, 06:34 AM

Dynaviir had sat watching the cook and what appeared to be a strong hobbit eating a muffin and crying tears of compressed joy. But he had overheard their conversation, and he was intrigued. He walked over to them, forgetting about this breakfast for a moment.

"Excuse me," he said, "if you are short for staff, I believe could help out. I'm well experienced at many crafts, and I would enjoy a way to pay you kind folk back for the hospitality of this inn. And I much enjoyed your meal last night, ma'am" he added, noticing the cook was looking up at him, as if she had never seen a ranger of Gondor before.

He looked over at Ruby, and remembered her from the night before. He wondered if her suspicion had passed, as he still carried his sword. But the hilt was somehow hidden behind his leg, and he was trying his hard to please the hobbits.

GaladrieloftheOlden

07-29-2003, 09:19 AM

Herlion woke with a slight start, finding himself still in the corner where he had drifted off. His pipe had fallen onto the floor, though not before leaving a scorchmark on his boot, which now seemed to be smoking slightly. He had obviously been sleeping for quite a while, since the inn was a lot fuller now, and he had develop a crick in the neck. He stood up, somewhat stiffly, picking up his pipe, to wake himself up a bit, and walked around the perimeter of the floor a few times, sidestepping assorted... he decided on beings as being a nicely neutral word for them. All of them were awake, almost, and he wondered how he had slept through the racket of conversation himself.

Finally, getting tired of walking in circles, and increasingly aware of his growling stomach, Herlion sat down at an empty table and put his head in his hands, still tired. He wasn't sure of whether to stay at this inn much longer, didn't seem too exciting...

Arestevana

07-29-2003, 12:24 PM

The Havens. Of course. That's where all the elves were headed these days. Randir watched Megilien's expression closely. Her voice had sounded funny when she had spoken, almost as if... He shook his head. It was surely just her sadness at departing Middle Earth, or maybe her apprehension of reaching the undying lands. There was no reason for her to be lying. His flight had made him too suspicious of everyone, Randir decided firmly. This young lady was telling him that she was about to leave her home forever, and he had the nerve to believe that she was lying. He immediately felt guilty, and turned his attention back to the conversation.

"I am sorry to hear that." He told Megilien, for once being honest. Then he remembered the question she had asked. "My business?" He could have smiled. She had given him the perfect explanation. "My mother's cousin, an elf maiden much like yourself, wished also to cross the sea. It was my mother's wish that I take her to the Havens and protect her on the trip. She has left now, and I am returning to my home in Gondor." He paused, realizing too late that if she was from Gondor she would know he was lying. Hoping this was not the case, he attempted a relaxed tone and added, "Where did you say you were from?"

[ July 30, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

Beren87

07-29-2003, 01:07 PM

"Gardening?" exclaimed Beren, being dragged along by the Innkeeper into the kitchen.

"Yes, yes, Gardening. The Inn is in need of a gardener, and you're in need of money. And start mumbling, you may have enough now, but it's sure to run out eventually." Said she, pushing open the door and stepping into the kitchen. The cook, her two servers, and Derufin all turned their heads as the pair entered.

"I..erm, Hello, all." Beren said, with a slight wave.

Stifling a small laugh, the cook moved to him, sizing him up with her eyes. "So, how would you like a job?"

He, in more of a stunned silence than anything else, asked, "What..will be my duties?"

Novnarwen

07-29-2003, 02:23 PM

Brottle stood motionless, feeling akward. The sweat ran down his forhead, pale as he was, he started thinking about where the key would be. As a stiff stature he moved away from the staircases seeking the golden thing, given to him by the Innkeeper.

What would she say, when he couldn't return a key? he asked himelf. As he came to the common room, the scent of ale streamed into his nostrils, and he couldn't do anything but to place two silver coins at the desk, asking for a pint. Immediatly after his 'crime' he figured it too. The key, he thought. But the ale had the power over him, and Brottle couldn't obey his own thirst; finding the golden door opener.

The little hobbit settled himself down at the same place he had been sitting before. Marks of a tounge on the table, were still there, but Brottle cleaned it up with the arm of his shirt, gazing around in the room, watching if someone were looking. He drank in large gulps, only stopping to breathe. The liquid tasted better than the one home, he assured himself, whence taking the last drop. As he rised from the table, he noticed a man standing, talking to the gentle Innkeeper. Aman looked towards him, gazing at him from top to toe.

Brottle tried to hide himself, he walked in great speed towards the staircases, out of the common room, pretending he was going up to his room. It was his wife who had sent the man, Brottle thought. She wants to know how I can manage to live on my own. Brottle grew purple with anger, and his temper rising with two levels.

"You there!"

It was Aman, she had paced towards him with the stranger in her heels. Brottle tried to put on an innocent look, but not puppy eyes. If this was a man his wife had sent to watch over him, it would be stupid if she was to know about his eyes. She would just have a good laugh then, and Brottle would not have anything of that sort.

"This man," Aman started. "he found something that might be of interest." she added.

Brottle looked up, meeting the kind eyes of the woman, but he didn't dare look at the stranger. Aman opened her hand, and to Brottle's surprise, was the golden key, the one, he had been looking for.

[ July 30, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

Envinyatar

07-29-2003, 03:15 PM

‘Well, let’s go out and see about those duties. Better to have a picture of what you’re going to be doing, don’t you think?’ Cook was giving the young man no chance to wiggle out of the spot she had planned for him. She took him by the elbow, an incongruous pair – tall and young, short and older. Behind them trailed Ruby, Buttercup, and Derufin.

The back door of the Inn, the one that led into the kitchen, faced south – the front door leading into the Common Room was on the north, oriented toward the Great Road that ran not too far from it. The Inn’s stables were to the left across the back yard, south east as you left the kitchen. While the garden was to the right in the southwest corner of the Inn property. It extended further west than the Inn, and afforded a good view of the roadway to anyone working in it. Between the stables and the Garden was the hand pump that served the water needs for the Inn.

‘Now here’s your tool shed,’ she said, pointing out the wooden structure at the east end of the garden.’ She fished for the key on her ring and opened the lock that secured it. Everything you’ll need is in here. Minto’s kept it nice and tidy, and the tools are all cleaned proper and sharpened where needed. A few hours in the morning should see you through on most days. A little weeding, and watering . . . a little replanting when the time comes . . . I’ll send one of the girls out with a basket to gather what we need for the day.

Beren’s eyes were wide as he listened to her go on and looked at the neatly spaced rows of green leaves depending upon him for their well-being. Before he knew it, she was handing the key to the tool shed to him.

‘We’ve got to get elevenses out for the folk in the Inn, and I need to start lunch and supper.’ Cook motioned for Ruby and Buttercup to follow her back to the kitchen.

‘Derufin!’ She called out the stableman’s name as he wandered toward the horse corral. He stopped, and turned shading his eyes from the late morning sun. ‘You can show him the hen yard,’ she directed him.

_____________________________________________

The henyard stood along the western wall of the stables, a large fenced area with a hencoop that held fifteen chickens – one rooster and 14 layers. Derufin showed Beren the key to unlatching the wire mesh gate.

‘If you don’t mind,’ he said, ‘I’ll see to the chickens, if you’ll gather the eggs for the Inn in the morning. I rather like the little creatures. The rooster’s a bit feisty, but he and I have come to an understanding and he doesn’t attack me now when I change out the straw for their bedding.’ He eyed Beren, wondering if the man had ever gathered eggs before.

‘Best you get up before dawn to get the eggs; they’ll all be sleeping still and won’t make a fuss.’ He showed him the tiny scars on his right hand from one of his first attempts to gather eggs when the rooster was awake. ‘Just get the basket from the counter in the kitchen, and fill it with a little straw for cushioning. Then, quickly go from hen to hen, slipping your hand beneath her and pulling out one or two eggs – just make sure you leave one for her to raise up. Take them in and set them back on the counter and one of the girls will take care of them.

‘Tea’s usually brewed by then, and Cook’s fresh morning pastries are out – help yourself to some. She’ll be expecting it. You’ll have a few hours then before you need to tend to the garden, so you can pop back under your quilts for a while if you wish.’

Derufin said he’d feed the chickens when he fed the horses, and told Beren that sometimes in the late afternoon he liked to let the hens and chicks out to forage for bugs in the garden. ‘Well just need to remember to pen them back up at night – weasels, and foxes, and the occasional egg stealing raccoon, you know.’

He motioned for Beren to sit with him a while on the bench beneath the oak tree in the stable yard, offering him his pouch of Southern Star. ‘I’m doubting you’ll be expected to start today. Might as well relax a bit.’ Derufin smilled and looked off toward the Inn. ‘Perhaps we’re putting the cart before the horse with all this talk of gardening and hens – I haven’t actually heard you accept the offer.’

He lit his pipe, offering the flint to Beren, and took in a mouthful of the flavorsome smoke . . .

Beren87

07-29-2003, 04:01 PM

Beren sat on the bench, his head whirling with the information just thrown at him in spades. "Gardener?" he thought to himself. "What on earth just happened?"

Turning his head left, he noticed the flint Derufin was offering him. He politely waved it away with a flick of his hand, and a small turn of his head. A pipe, for odd reasons, never seemed to calm him the way it did others. He only used it when he had a clear mind. Now, was certainly not a clear minded time.

"I..well." he began, not truly sure of what he was to say next. To accept would mean staying here, at the Inn, which he didn't know if he could. And, to commit himself to being a gardener? Could he really stay here, without moving on? Suddenly the image of Aman flashed through his mind, answering all of his spiraling questions at once.

"I would be quite happy to stay on here, as gardener." He said, with a reassuring smile. "I've really got nothing else going for me anywhere else, and this is something I do know how to do..."

Derufin was taken back slightly, at his last comment. "You've had experience, doing this sort of work?"

"Er..well, actually, yes. In my youth, I used to work with the gardener on our estate, I always loved watching things grow and flourish." His eyes twinkeled, remembering the innocent times.

"Well then, you'll be quite alright in ths job." He snickered slightly at his own comment. He leaned back against the bench, drawing on his pipe. "It's not the most exciting job, but, there's no better place to work than an Inn, in my opinion."

"I'm rather beginning to like it here, myself." answered Beren. "Just, one thing. What's in town? I've never actually gone into it."

[ July 30, 2003: Message edited by: Beren87 ]

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-29-2003, 07:23 PM

Tallin stepped into the Green Dragon and smiled at the merry place, his face creasing at the corners of his green eyes. Striding over to the bar, he ordered an ale and sipped it. Surveying the people in the inn, Tallin noticed that most of them were hobbits. Well, of course! he said to himself. This inn is in the Shire, after all.

As Tallin sat, enjoying his ale, he watched the people over the rim of his mug. He noticed one man sitting at a table, his head buried in his hands. He seemed tired. Tallin took it upon himself to go over and introduce himself.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, tapping the man on the shoulder. Herlion looked up with a start and stared at him. "May I sit with you and talk a while?" inquired Tallin. "I've just arrived in the Green Dragon Inn, and this is a new place for me."

Elentarimir

07-30-2003, 07:49 AM

Megilien listened with interest, as the man described taking an elf-maiden to the Havens. She had the distinct impression he was lying, or not telling the whole truth to her. But then, he hastily changed the subject, asking her where she was from.

"I am from Rivendell," she told him quietly. "As you have no doubt already gathered from my dark hair." She sipped her wine, and watched him with interest. There was only one way she could find out if he was lying. "I don't suppose you'd care to tell me what the name of the Elf was?" she asked casually.

[ July 30, 2003: Message edited by: Elentarimir ]

Dragon Elf odin Ragnorock

07-30-2003, 10:43 AM

This morning he orders breakfast from Ruby and tells her that he would like to have it outside. So Ragnorock takes a chair and plants the four legs of the chair on the ground outside of the door. Then he pulls out the ring and looks at it again trying to remember what Galadriel said about it. He sits and stairs at the ring for a good 20 minutes. Then Ruby, with a plate of eggs and bacon with a side of toast, comes out of the inn and gives the plate to Ragnorock.

“Thanks” said Ragnorock
“Any thing more?” asks Ruby
“ A cup of ale please” said Ragnorock

After Ruby leaves Ragnorock looks at the ring longing to know what it dose because Thinks that it is not just a signet ring. But he thinks to himself why did my friend give me this ring and why did he wnat me out of all of his family to have his air loom that was passed down to hi grandfather and his father and os on and so forth.

[ August 03, 2003: Message edited by: Dragon Elf odin Ragnorock ]

GaladrieloftheOlden

07-30-2003, 11:07 AM

"Excuse me, sir," somebody said, startling Herlion out of his half-slumber. "May I sit with you and talk a while?" the man asked. "I've just arrived in the Green Dragon Inn, and this is a new place for me."

"Why... of course," said Herlion, beginning to feel that he was staring. Remembering any manners he may have had, he stood up, unaware that he was turning beet red, and, clearing his throat said: "My name is Herlion. And what may I call you?"

Arestevana

07-30-2003, 12:37 PM

Randir gave a slight mental sigh, not allowing his expression to change a bit. He had been expecting the question. Well, this time he would give the truth, in hopes that it would get him out. "Her name was Eglawen," He told her. "She was a wanderer, but stayed in Rivendell this past year. Perhaps you've met her?"

He knew he was probably caught, but had to give it a try. Eglawen had indeed been to Rivendell the year before, until she left for the Havens with her two sons. Presumably they had made the voyage safely, but no word had been heard of them since. Randir looked up at Megilien, wondering how she would respond.

Elentarimir

07-30-2003, 02:37 PM

Megilien scrutinized the man in front of her. "Eglawen," she murmured softly. The name was definitely familiar, especially if he was referring to the Elf she thought he was. But there was a bit of a problem with his story.

"Eglawen was a good friend of mine. I knew her well, until she made ready to depart for the Havens." Here she leaned forward a bit. "There is a slight glitch in your story, however. I traveled with her and her sons to Rivendell. There was no young man with her then, and I highly doubt she would have taken up with one." Megilien sighed gently, recalling fond memories of her old friend. "She was distrustful of Men."

Megilien looked sternly at Randir. "Do you mind telling me what your real business is? Or is it too secret?"

Kryssal

07-30-2003, 02:43 PM

Domen Berrypatch looked at the Green Dragon Inn with a gladdened eye. All the old Hobbit wanted was a nice set down to rest his tired bottom. Why, even his bones seemed to creek as much as his old wooden wagon did when he slowly eased down off of it. Apple seemed to be glad for the respite as well, the poor little pony had been plodding through the Shire since sun-up.

Dusting off his worn brown travelling coat, Domen walked up to pat Apple's neck, then gave her a nice carrot for a treat. Then he limped over to the stable doors to find a stable boy. One popped up shortly and eagerly unhitched Apple from her harness after having her steer the wagon to a safe resting spot.

Smiling he gave the boy a coin. "And there will be a lil' more 'o that when I pick her up, if she's treated well an' all," Domen winked and ruffled the boys hair before striding off toward the Inn's door.

Upon entering the common room he noticed several odd characters to be dining in the Shire. He even took a few back glances at some that looked like they might be Elves. Giving a large shrug, the old Hobbit ambled over to a small table and fell into one of the chairs. Dragging another chair over he leaned back and put his left leg up on it; the leg was ever so stiff from riding all day.

Soon a nice serving lady came over and asked what he'd like.

"Oh," Domen said, rubbing his chin with one hand and patting his belly with the other. "I think I'll just do with a bit o' ale, and some bread, cheese... mayhap a piece of friut. Have ya got any stew prehaps?" Before the Inn worker could answer he continued on. "Naw, no stew fer me. Got to get back going on the road. Cousin Dawn Brandybuck wouldn't like if I was late with her personal shipment, see? Right then, I'll have good cup o' ale, half loaf of bread and nice chunk o' cheese. That'll do it right."

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

Esgallhugwen

07-30-2003, 03:15 PM

Esgallhugwen smiled faintly at Lira. Taking out the pink cream from her belt pouch, she began to treat Morsereg's leg wound. 'This should be the last time... we came across a camp of orcs a few weeks back and ended up with a few wounds' most of the orcs fled into the mountains and other dark shadowed areas at the end of the War of the Ring, but some still lingered in open lands.

She felt now that she owed Lira at least a tale of some of her past, though it would be a short tale indeed for now. 'Off the border of Rhûn to the southeast but not to close to the land of Mordor was where my father's land was, he and my Mother once resided closer to what was once known as Greenwood' Esgallhugwen patted Morsereg on the muzzle as the sun inched it's way higher up into the sky.

A slight breeze blew the leaves sending them shimmering like emeralds as flowers opened up before Esgallhugwen's feet. 'My Father wanted independence so he went forth with a small host of ones that would follow him and they neared the border of the East, than I was born, the land was already shadowed but it only became worse as the time drew on'.

She now wished to go inside to get a small bite to eat than perhaps she would continue her story.

[ July 30, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-30-2003, 06:53 PM

"You may call me Tallin, or Tal if you are too lazy to say the whole word." Tallin laughed heartily at his own joke, but ceased when he saw Herlion looking at him strangely. "Very well then. Let's sit and chat a bit, shall we?" asked Tallin, plopping himself down on the bench at the table. "First, a little bit about myself. My name is Tallin, son of Pallon, and I come from Rohan. My story is the usual travelers'; the road was long, hard, and sometimes quite treacherous. But I enjoy traveling anyways."

Here Tallin paused for breath; and for a sip of his ale. What he hadn't told Herlion was his "darker" side, if Tallin had a darker side. Here and there he liked to do some petty thieving, for thrills and sometimes to get by, when he couldn't find any animals to use for food. Herlion might be a good target; thought Tallin. But only time will tell.

After drinking some ale and finishing his thoughts, Tallin now turned to Herlion, asking "What of you, friend? How did you come about to be in the Shire, at the Green Dragon?"

Imladris

07-30-2003, 09:36 PM

Lira glanced at Esgallhugwen quickly, and pretty smile spread across her unattractive face as she realized that Esgallhugwen was beginning to trust her. "Come, let us get something to eat," she said happily a she skipped out the stable doors towards the inn, Esgallhugwen close behind her.

They ate pieces of bread, steamed vegetables, and they each had a small glass of wine. "You told me that your stallion was injured in an orc attack," Lira said, sipping slowly at her wine. It was a deep red in color, and Lira relished each sip as the clear liquid flowed smoothy across her tongue. "Were you also wounded?"

Esgallhugwen

07-30-2003, 10:07 PM

'Aye, I was... of which most have healed by now, all but two, one across my back and another on my thigh when an orc jumped out onto my side while I was mounted' she took a few more scoops of the vegetables and a sip of wine. 'But do not worry for me, the cream you saw earlier is of my own making... you may have seen such creams of a yellow or green tone in your travels or used by your own hands, those are the popular blends to be made'.

Esgallhugwen looked around realizing she no longer was hidden beneath her dark green hood, a slight panic took hold of her but she pushed it aside quickly. She did not want people to look upon her in wonder, but most importantly fear.

She noticed a few Hobbits sitting about while others were serving breakfasts. She looked over to see some men sitting in a corner chatting, while others still sat all around her talking about many things that did not concern her... for now anyway.

She looked sadly out the window for a brief moment.Her grey eyes glittered as if with tiny stars. Esgallhugwen did not want people to fear her, nor to clamour around in wonder like a bee attracted to a flower.

Her dark audurn hair shimmered with fire in the dawns light. A strong bond may grow between us yet Esgallhugwen thought.

Envinyatar

07-30-2003, 10:22 PM

"Just, one thing. What's in town? I've never actually gone into it."

Derufin, a perplexed look on his face, pulled his pipe from his mouth and looked at the man beside him. Beren seemed sincere in his question and there was no hint he could read on his features that said the man was pulling his leg. ‘Must be from a larger town . . . or perhaps a city,’ he thought to himself.

He tapped the ashes from the bowl of his pipe and rubbed them out in the dirt with his boot. ‘Well, Beren, I’m not quite sure how to answer you. This is the center of the town, so to speak. On Fridays we have the town market here in the front yard – when the weather is good. And there is a Town Hall down the road where the Mayor and his associates meet once a week or twice if there is pressing business. Then down the road to the east are the locks and the small Shiriff’s station. Halfred is the Shiriff and when he’s not busy investigating who tromped through who’s garden – he’s also the mailman.’ Derufin put his now cold pipe into his tobacco pouch and stored it in his vest pocket.

‘Anyone needing their ponies shod or iron work done goes over to the Boffin place if they need something big done – they have a large forge. Or they come here, we have a small one we can use for shoeing or a little tinkering, as need be.’ He got up and stretched, thinking he should get busy mucking out the stalls, since Vanwe was not here. He looked down at the still seated Beren. ‘Oh, and every so often, we push back the tables in the Inn and have some local musicians in. Dance and drink and sometimes a few fireworks.’

He winked broadly at Beren and then turned to walk toward the stable entrance. ‘Should be one coming up in a few weeks when Mistress Piosenniel and her family come through on their way to Gondor,’ he said pausing, and turning back to Beren. ‘Might want to line up someone to squire to the party, eh?!’

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

Beren87

07-31-2003, 07:08 AM

The sun beated down upon Beren, as he sat on the bench outside the Inn. For some odd reason, the thought hadn't occured to him to actually get out of the burning light, so he sat there still, thinking to himself, watching the birds on the garden fence.

Of coure this wasn't a large city, he had known that, but if he was to stay here, he would be in need of quite a few items.

"Well," he mumbled gruffly, "That market seems as best as any, this Friday."

He turned to admire the garden, his soon-to-be workspace. The rows were ordered, and the plants growing quite well, but weeds were slowly overtaking. There were tufts of grass popping up here and there, interrupting the ordered lines made by the growing greens.

The shed, a recently dilapidated structure, was to his left. The soft ground barely crunched under his feet as he moved over to it, rubbing his hand along the rough walls.

"This shouldn't take too much work to fix up. Seems to me no other Gardener has really worried about it. It's a keen mind that catches odd trait, as the old gardener used to say." he laughed silently, ending in a smile as he thought of these words to himself.

Sweat beads rolled down his forehead, each a small push telling him to get inside. He began to head towards the Inn, wondering what to do now. He thought for a bit of trying to speak with Aman, but she had something about running she had to do, so he doubted he'd be seeing her anytime today.

It was a few degrees cooler in the shade of the Inn, no matter how many people were inside it. He moved up to the bar and with a chuckle called back,

"You're gardener is going to be needing an Ale, if he's ever to stand this heat long enough to stay here!"

Arestevana

07-31-2003, 08:30 AM

Randir's mind whirled. This elf claimed to have known Eglawen, to have traveled with her! Distrustful of men, she had said! "She was my mother's counsin," He repeated. "If you have met her, you must have met her young sons. Would not any mother wish for protection on so perilous a journey?"

He saw Megilien's expression and laughed. "Perilous, yes. Do not play the fool. This land is peaceful, you say, yet we both sit at an inn in the Shire with swords at our sides!" He told her, by saying this, that he had noticed she was not unarmed, and that he knew she knew he wore a sword, hidden though it was. Suddenly a thought struck him.

"To Rivendell you traveled?" He asked. "Do you not dwell in Imladris itself? How is it that you managed to stray so far from your home? Eglawen held her last home to be in Ithilen, where she dwelt before her westward journeys. Surely you did not fight in the wars! How was it, then, that you came to meet her, lady of Rivendell?"

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

Imladris

07-31-2003, 09:30 AM

"I a sorry you were wounded," said Lira softly. She had never before come face to face with orcs, and she was glad about that. She knew how they looked, and she stifled a shudder as she thought of their malignant eyes, their long arms, and the dreadful uruk-hai of Saruman. It was as if their putrid memory stained her pure elven soul, but yet she did pity them a little.

She glanced out the window again, and her spirits lifted as she heard the birds sing in the sky, the white clouds scurry across their blue carpet, the butterflies seek the golden nectar of the flowers. A laugh, sweet, silvery, bewitching, haunting, bubbled forth from Lira at the pure joy of living in Illuvitar's song. Turning once more to Esgallhugwen, she smiled and asked, "So what brings you to the Shire, Mellon?"

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

piosenniel

07-31-2003, 10:50 AM

Falco had breakfasted well, and now he sat at the small table by the window, a mug of tea in one hand and his pipe in the other. The lovely, deep smell of well-cured Old Toby drifted up from the bowl, as he looked out at the Inn yard at the newcomers just stabling their horses. There, in the distance, riding from the east was a small figure with a green hat on his head.

The rider came closer and the image sharpened – a green hat with a white feather. Falco stood and went out to the porch of the Inn. It was Halfred, in his shiriff’s hat, and riding at a rather fast speed for the usually indolent Dumpling, his faithful steed. Derufin, noting the approach of the sheriff, had come out from the stable to take the reins as Halfred dismounted, heaving his rather large bulk from the pony’s saddle and plunking down ungracefully in the dirt.

Halfred paused for a few moments, and spoke to the stablemaster. Falco could see the man’s face take on a grim look, and he nodded to the Shiriff. When Halfred was finished speaking, Falco hurried down the steps to intercept him. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked. ‘How can I help?’

They went into the Inn and sat at a table apart from the cluster of patrons enjoying their ales at that time of day. ‘We’ve had news of the ruffians again,’ said Halfred in a low voice. We thought we had run them out for good, but the Rangers at the borders of the Northfarthing and Eastfarthing said they’d picked up signs they’ve entered again. Come west they think from Deadman’s Dike. And we’ve had word that the stable of the small Inn at Girdley Island was hit. They’ve gone off with a number of the horses and ponies stabled there.’ He motioned for Buttercup to bring them two ales. Falco winked at her, and she scurried off, her cheeks aflame.

Halfred took a swig of his ale when she brought it, then continued on. ‘The Golden Perch has been warned to be on the lookout for them, and news was relayed to me from one of the deputies riding west from the Floating Log at Frogmorton. There are Rangers covering the area, but they’re few. It would be good if you could go west from here and let the folk know what is going on. Best we Shire folk look after our own.’

Falco nodded his head at Halfred’s words. He drained his mug then went to his room and hastily packed up his few belongings. A few brief words to the stableman, and he mounted his pony, heading back toward Michel Delving to alert the deputies there.

Buttercup pouted as she watched Falco leave, and she gave a disapproving glance at Halfred, who had been the obvious cause of his departure. Slow steps brought her to Halfred’s table when he held up his mug to her. ‘Who’s that man,’ he asked, eyeing the tall member of the Big Folk standing at the bar.’

Buttercup turned, noting the only one of that description was Beren. ‘That’s the new gardener. Just started this morning, he did.’ Halfred looked him up and down. ‘Where’d he come from?’ Buttercup shrugged her shoulders and took his mug, leaving him to consider the origins of the ‘gardener’ on his own.

Halfred sighed and heaved his bulk from the chair. ‘Might as well suss out the fellow,’ he thought to himself as he approached the bar. ‘Who knows, he could be one of the ruffians spying out likely places to hit next.’

‘Beren, is it,’ said Halfred, with a welcoming smile on his face. ‘I understand you’re new here in Bywater. Let me buy you another ale. Thirsty work gardening.’ The two men took a pull at their drinks. Halfred wiped the foam from his upper lip with the red kerchief he kept in his back pocket. ‘I heard from Buttercup you’re the new gardener here at the Inn. I have a garden of my own. Lovely bit of soil – like to grow them cauliflowers, cabbages, too. Been having a heck of a time with the cut worm, though.’ Halfred took another drink and invited Beren to sit with him.

‘So,’ he continued casually, once they had settled into their chairs, ‘What brings you to the Westfarthing?’

Novnarwen

07-31-2003, 12:16 PM

The red flames from the fire cast a dim light into his pale face. His hood covered his eyes in the dark. Only he, sat in that corner, waiting for his friend to appear. He smoked while sitting there, letting out the white smoke now and then. A small cough from is throat could be heard, and then he fell was silent. Money there, he thought while watching a man's pocket filled with silver coins. In the dark you could see his smile; his yellow teeth sticking out. Folw let his hood slide from his head. The sweaty long hair appeared. The thin man ordered a pint ale at the same time, letting the remaining coins (three to be precise) in his pocket.

Where is he? Folw thought while drinking his ale. It tasted bitter, but he wasn't to complain. The man hadn't had food for a very long time, and he drank it therefore with no further thought of its' taste. As he finished his ale, he leaned back, getting a glimpse of the door. And therein came the man who Folw was waiting for, his companion.

With great pace he came towards the man hid in the dark, in other words; he knew exactly where to find him. ''Greetings,'’ he said. Fowl gave a sign showing him to settle down. The most important thing was not to get attention. ''Now, what have you found out?'' Fowl asked eagerly while filling his pipe with pipe weed. ''No saying 'hi' to an old friend,'' the man said disappointed. Fowl gave a nod, letting the man continue: ''Bad news,'' he started. ''They'll not leave today, but tomorrow,'' his companion told him. Fowl sighed. ''Then we strike tomorrow'' he said determined.

The other man, called Stirru looked at him and gave a grimace. ''I can wait that long,'' he answered, and they talked no further of their business.

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Novnarwen ]

Beren87

07-31-2003, 12:41 PM

"What brings you to the Westfarthing?" inquired the Shiriff, politely. An alterior motive than politeness was obvious, but politeness it was none the less, and therfor called for it in return.

"Ah, well, good Shiriff! I was hoping to meet you soon, seeing as you're such a prominent member of the Inn." He said the last with a sly grin, his mischeviousness evident to himself. "I've been traveling for years now, a sort of..researcher, you might say, out to any and all parts I feel the wish to visit. I've been to most places now, the elven cities, the dwarven realms."

"Well then, we've a well-explored man in our mist. We folks don't get about, all that much, really; more fond of sticking to The Shire. You, hmm.., met anyone around here recently? Any of your own big folk, that is?" The small shirrif rested his head on his hand, his elbow leaning on the bar.

"Well, besides the dear Innkeeper and the stableman, not really. I only arived two days ago, you see. Had a nasty bit with a few Goblin-types on the road from Bree, if you get my drift. Barely escaped with all my extremeties in tact. Got two of them, before they stopped following though, they'll have to work a little harder next time." He winked at his own recounting of the escapades, still fresh in his mind.

"Well well, I think those are the ruffians we've been looking for, good sir. Seems you've done us a favor, I deem. If you ever come across any of 'em again, you just come down to the Shirrifs' station, by the locks." Stool-legs scraped against the wooden floor as he got up, patting Beren on the arm.

"Will do, Shirrif. I suggest you start keeping more of a watch on any of these folk going down to Bree though, these roads aren't as safe as they used to be, that's for sure." Beren then turned back to his ale, sipping back the foam.

"Not as safe as when I started out, anyway." he said this silently to himself, eyeing the Shirrif as he walked away. "Though, I doubt that Shirrif is going to help matters."

Amanaduial the archer

07-31-2003, 01:41 PM

"What'd Halfred want?" Aman had seen the Shirrif talking to Beren when she came in from talking to a messenger, but was polite enough not to have interrupted. Beren nearly jumped at her words, turning quickly, startled.

"Oh...oh, sorry Aman." He looked back after the retreating Halfred, and shrugged. "He was just asking where I come from, you know." He said nothing of the alterior motives he had suspected, but Aman knew there must have been some. Besides, the Shirrif cum mailman wasn't exactly subtle.

"He knows more than me then. Where is it you're from? It's been a while since I have actually asked after what happens outside the Inn- worked myself into a niche, so to speak." She grinned. "And what'd you think of the Shirrif?"

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

Envinyatar

07-31-2003, 03:12 PM

The stablemaster brought out Dumpling for the Shiriff, and spoke with him a few moments. He shook his head at Halfred’s assurance that the goblin-men were responsible and had been run off in their encounter with the Inn’s gardener. ‘We can only hope that’s true,’ he said, holding the pony’s reins as the sheriff mounted up. ‘Still I’ll take extra care with seeing to the security of the stable.’

Before Halfred could turn Dumpling about and head toward the road, Derufin drew out a sealed letter and handed it to him. 'I know it's not mail day, but will you see that this goes west as soon as you can?' Halfred took the missive and inspected the address. 'Doesn't stay in one place too long does she?' Derufin declined to answer, and Halfred stuck the letter in his inner vest pocket, promising he would see it delivered.

Derufin walked back to the stables slowly. He wished mightily Vanwe was not away. Her Elven senses would be more alert than his, especially at night, as he had always been a sound sleeper. ‘Ah, well,’ nothing to do but just re-learn to catnap,’ he thought to himself, hoping that a better answer would come to him if he just thought on it longer.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Later, just before lunch, Derufin found himself in the kitchen, wheedling an early feed from Cook. 'I'll take it with me if you don't mind,' he said watching her put thin slices of ham on thick slices of bread smeared with mustard. She wrapped the sandwich in a clean linen napkin, and handed him a few nutbutter cookies. He gave her a winning grin and grabbed two apples for himself, too.

Taking a bite from one of them as he walked out the door, he called back in a muffled voice. 'Don't forget - if you can think of someone to bunk in my quarters for a while, I'd appreciate it, I've got that extra room, and I could use the extra eyes and ears , at least til the crisis, if there is to be one, has passed.'

Cook nodded and waved him off and went back to putting the crust on the blackberry pies she was baking for dinner.

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

Esgallhugwen

07-31-2003, 03:55 PM

Just as she looked up and was about to answer, a very fat Hobbit came into the Inn, he seemed to notice a man sitting at the bar and waddled his way over to him. Esgallhugwen heard bits and pieces of the conversation; they spoke of ruffians and how the man had come across them, Goblins they had been and were dismissed as the actual trouble makers but all wasn't right with their thought there was something more to it than just goblins or orcs near the border of Bree.

The other night she had passed through Bree like a storm, only stopping at the Prancing Pony to ask for further directions. She had startled many of the drunks that sat at the bar, her presence was fierce and haunting.

The Inn was dimly lit making her green cloak look black, many who sat about thought she was a wraith at first glance; like the town's tale told of many years before. The Innkeeper was a sweaty mumbling startled mess when he finally blurted out the directions to the Green Dragon.

With a flick of her cloak she was back on her dark horse speeding off down the trail.

Singing of birds outside brought her back to her senses 'what brings me to the Shire?' she said thoughtfully to herself. 'To see the little folk I suppose... I no longer have a home in the East, though I lingered there after the fact for many years, and only now grew dreary of the loss and waste of that place'. A bird fluttered by the window as the pudgy Hobbit left the door going down the trail on his fat pony.

piosenniel

07-31-2003, 05:43 PM

It is midmorning, now in the Shire. Very near lunch time.

Imladris

07-31-2003, 06:05 PM

Lira frowned as she heard the words of the fat hobbit and the man at the bar. It hurt to think that this fair land could be bothered by goblin-like men. She had heard rumors of the lingering bits of evil, but she had rather hoped the Shire hadn't been bothered by it...but that had been a foolish hope.

Turning to Esgallhugwen she noticed that the elf maiden wasn't really thinking about why she had come to the Shire at all, and Lira wondered if she too had heard what the hobbit and man had been speaking of. Rising, she declared, "I am going to ask the Innkeeper if she needs any help or assistance with anything, especially since the news of the goblin-men. Would you like to join me?"

Chathol-linn

07-31-2003, 07:57 PM

“The henyard stood along the western wall of the stables, a large fenced area with a hencoop that held fifteen chickens – one rooster and 14 layers. Derufin showed Beren the key to unlatching the wire mesh gate … and wondered if the man had ever gathered eggs before.”

The great bell of the Green Dragon tolled the signal for luncheon, and all folk within hearing obeyed the welcome call. The farmhand Hobbits stowed their tools and went home; the visitors to the Shire found their boarding houses and hosts; and the guests of the Green Dragon attended the hall as if pulled there on strings – its table was renowned, thanks to Cook, and in the Shire, that was saying something.

Amidst all the coming and going of inn-folk and servants and Hobbits on luncheon break, no one noticed a figure who sidled up the western wall of the stable, well away from the law-abiding folk on the North-south road. She – well, we suppose it was a she, although it was hard to tell from the thin body and bowl-shaped hair cut – had one thought on her mind and that thought was food. And there it was. Someone had forgotten to mind the chickens so well, and a biddy was wandering about the henyard, mindless as a – chicken.

Willofain crouched low, thankful that there seemed to be no one about. She would grab that bird by the neck, throttle it in one swift motion if her strength held, pluck it, clean it, cook it and eat it. Or just eat it.

Silent as a shadow and nearly as thin, the young Mortal reached for the young hen, and as she did so, a shadow fell across her path.

Character: Willofain the orphan, a Mortal girl of sixteen.

Beren87

07-31-2003, 08:49 PM

"Where am I from..?" Beren repeated the question slower, to himself., slightly dazed and confused. "An odd question, really, it would take a bit of explaining, if you've time to spare."

"Time? Well, the mid-day meal will have to be served soon, but Cook's got it on it's way nicely. I'll have a seat here with you, anyway." Aman smiled softly at Beren. More of an inquisitive, inviting smile than that of pure reflex. A smile that actually, it seemed and he dared to hope, was truly warm. She sat on the stool beside him, looking left, waiting for him to continue.

"Ah, well then. I suppose I'll start at the beginning, which would be the beginning of me. I was born, outside of Minas Tirith, from my mother who died at birth. It's allright really, it's not terribly uncommon." She had lowered her eyes a bit, at the last part, seemingly in respect. "My father was a traveler you see. Sort of an...ambassador from the Steward. He wasn't home much, but our family estate is very nice, and the servants raised me to the best of their ability. I played with the gardener out back, was taught by tutors as they came around every week, basically just stayed to myself. I wasn't allowed to play with the common boys, my father being who he was." Beren's face turned slightly darker at his last comment, obvioulsy remembering it not fondly. He turned and sipped an ale, drying his parched throad, but remembering his manners turned to Aman and inquired, "Would you like one?"

She politely shook her head from side to side. "I'm allright, and if I did want one, it is my Inn." She winked slightly at her own comment, forcing a slight tinge upon Beren's cheeks.

"Heh..right, of course it's your Inn. Er, anyway, I was at the neighborhood boys. Yes, well, I wasn't allowed to play with them, so I mostly kept to myself inside, musing around with toys my father had brought home from whatever new trip he went on. He was never really home, but the things he sent back were excellent. Dwarven poppers and such, I had the best playthings in the city. Well, I grew up of course, attending more and more tutors as I grew older, until word came one day that my father had been slain by a group of Orc-men searching for money. My world basically collapsed. He hadn't been home, but I had always known he was out there somewhere, and now, I didn't even have that. About sometime later, I decided to start out on my own traveling, around the routes my father had described to me. It seemed the most logical thing to do, though, I'm not sure why. I've been everywhere in my years of travelling, so many places, in fact, I've nearly lost count of how many years it is I've been traveling. Imladris, The Havens, up at the Mountain, I've been everywhere. Most of my things I've had carted back to my home, in Tirith, spending money quite freely. I don't know if I ever expect to make it back there, really, but if I do I'll have quite the assortment waiting for me. You know the story of the ruffians on the road from Bree, of course. I slew two of them, as they ambushed me, then ran all the way to the Buckland gate. They dared follow no farther. And now, I'm here." He smiled at her, abruptly finishing his drawn-out story. He leaned further back, sipping on his mostly-drank ale, waiting for her to comment.

Aman had been quite quiet through the story, letting Beren go on and on, listening to the ramblings of his childhood with interest. "You told the Shirrif about the ruffians then, right? We've been having quite a lot of trouble with them recently, attacking groups of hobbits on the way to Bree for parts and such. Dasterdly devils are impossible to track down it seems."

"Well, I don't know how much I can do about that. I'm not exactly a soldier, but I've had some experience with a blade. I offered my services to the Shirrif, at any rate, so perhaps a time will come when I'll meet up with them again. He shook the thought off, oddly concentrating on the here and now for once, which was, perhaps due more to his company than his thoughts on the ruffains.

"Aman! Get in here and help me serve this food, it's been cooked up for an age now, girl." The cook bellowed from behind in the kitchen. "And if you're talking with that man Beren, he can come and 'elp get these dishes out if he likes. I doubt he'll mind too much helping out you." There was an odd chuckle from the area of the stove, which caused both faces to go slightly pink. Not a comment was thrown about the Cook's last words.

As they entered, Aman and Beren began helping the cook to slice the soft, freshly baked bread. "You know Aman, Derufin's still looking for someone to share that extra room with, in the stables." The cook's voice oddly projected more towards Beren, than the adressed Innkeeper. "So, in case you hear of anyone wanting a room for a slightly extended time, you should inform them about it, you seem to hear more from the patrons than I get to."

"A room! Why.." She excalimed the words, then turned to face Beren, "Beren, how would you like to bunk up out in the stables? Seeing as how well you and Derufin were already getting along. It would save you quite the coin in renting a room here, anyway, and it would be the least we could do for our new Gardener. You were planning on staying on, weren't you?" She said this last part, looking up into his eyes.

"I..I..well, of course I was planning on staying here, and the stablemaster is certainly a kindly fellow. He doesn't have that larger-town feel to him, anyway." Beren smiled as he said his words, realising perhaps he had finally found a home, where no other place would suit him.

"Well then, good gardener, I'm sure Derufin will be very happy to hear it. I'll be telling him next time he comes in here, asking for food, or you can tell him if you happen to brush past him before I do." The cook turned back to the food in front of her, obviously done with them.

Beren and Aman stood, side by side, slicing bread and vegetables for the next meal of the day, silently laughing among themselves as the Cook turned to wink at each of them, trying to disguise her obvious facination.

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Beren87 ]

piosenniel

07-31-2003, 09:09 PM

Envinyatar

07-31-2003, 09:41 PM

Derufin set his food on the desk that stood outside his quarters and looked down the row of now empty stalls. All the ponies and the few horses stabled at the Inn were out in the corral, beneath the great oak tree to the west of the building. He stood, looking at the last five stalls that needed mucking out, wondering if he should eat first or get the work done.

He chuckled to himself that he was even having this debate – the work always came first with him. Picking up the pitchfork that stood against the nearest stall post, he started in on the soiled hay with it, forking it into his wheelbarrow, and then used the scoop shovel for the rest of the refuse.

Once all the detritus of the equine nights was piled in the barrow, he forked in some fresh hay and changed all the waters. Done at last, he leaned for a moment on the pitchfork admiring his handiwork. ‘Enjoy it now, boyo,’ he said to himself. ‘A suns half rotation and you’ll be facing the same stinking mess as before.’

His hands were covered in sweat and grime from the handles of the implements he’d used. Wiping them on a rag hanging from a nail in the corner where he stowed the stables tools, he turned them back and forth looking at them critically. Too dirty by half to handle his sandwich, he strode out to the pump just to the west of the stable.

Derufin’s brows raised as he spied the thin young woman attempting to catch a lone hen who had ventured out of the coop in the midday sun. Just as she reached for it, he came up silently behind her. ‘You’ve a deft hand at stray hens, Miss. Thank you for your help.’ He reached down for the hen and tucked it under his arm as he regarded the girl, then settled the hen into the coop.

‘Come wash your hands and share some lunch with me,’ he said, pointing to the pump that stood about ten feet from them. ‘You can wait over there . . . that bench beneath the oak tree . . .’ He talked to her gently, as he would a skittish filly, leading her to the pump.

‘My lunch is just inside the stable,’ he said, drying his hands on his shirttails. ‘I’ll see you in a few moments.’

He had no idea if she would stay or run. He strolled back into the stable at a leisurely pace, not looking back . . .

Dyrnwyn, Sword of Flame

07-31-2003, 09:58 PM

Caligon walked up to what looked like, from a distance, a pub. Upon closer examination he discovered that it was indeed a pub called the Green Dragon. He was quite hungry, seeing as how it was midday and lunch time, and he did enjoy Hobbit ale very much, so he decided to go inside and sit awhile.

Just as he was about to enter, he heard a large, and quite loud, bell ringing. He figured it must be a lunch bell, and he figured right. No sooner had the bell stopped ringing then Hobbits from all around started walking, and even running, toward the pub. Caligon quickly entered before they arrived.

Upon entering, most of the Hobbits and Men inside stared at him. He was wearing a thin breastplate made of leather, and his sword hung in it's scabbard from his belt. Throughout the Shire his attire drew the attention of many curious Hobbits, and he often had to explain that he was a Captain of Gondor, and there on business. Few of the Hobbits fully accepted this vague explanation, seeing as how they are very nosy creatures.

He strode up to the counter and asked for a nice, cold Hobbit ale, and a cake. Upon receiving his food and drink, he went to a small table in a corner and sat down. He looked around closely at the inhabitants of the pub, both Man and Hobbit, and thought the scene very quaint, just like all the rest of the Shire

Chathol-linn

08-01-2003, 05:57 AM

Against long odds, Willofain was an optimist. Yes, it was true the man was walking away with her chicken dinner, but – four things. He had paid her a compliment “deft hands,” thanked her, and invited her to lunch!
And she was tired of running away. She wanted to run to something, for once.

“Master Stableman! Wait!” she shouted. She dashed to the pump, which the man had just primed, started to work the handle, and paused. Then she got an oaken bucket from under the bench. Only when it was underneath the spout did she let the cool stream of water run over her hands, face, and head. Finishing, she took the bucket and dumped the contents in the watering trough.

“I accept your invitation, Master Stableman,” she told him. “You are very kind to a stranger. Not many people are kind. They are not mean, either. Just – not caring, you know. Are you having ham? Is it a feast day in the Shire? No?”

Willofain took a large bite of the sandwich and chewed busily, drank some water from the stableman’s proffered cup, and continued:

“All the way from my village I had to tag along after others, for I belong to nobody, really. When I got past Bree, there was this man I followed. By his speech and songs he was a foreigner. He went fast and it was hard to keep up. Lucky for me! Because Orcs set upon him and he had to fight them off. Did a good job too, except that one escaped. – Master Stableman? You said I was deft, and I am. I am no stranger to work. I learn quickly. People say I think fast in a tight spot. And animals like me.”

Willofain hesitated, aware that the Stablemaster must have heard such appeals many times before. But it was a time for boldness. “Could I help out in your stables? Or do you know anyone who needs a ‘prentice?”

She held her breath, even forgetting to eat, waiting for the stableman’s answer.

Elentarimir

08-01-2003, 08:01 AM

Megilien smiled. "Perilous, the land may be. However, if you had traveled along, I would have seen you, unless you joined her in Rivendell, where I left her." She grinned. Randir, as he called himself, was trying to cover up his story.

And then, he promptly asked how Megilien had met Eglawen. Her grin broadened. "I have been in Ithilien before. The only recent time was when I went to get Eglawen and guard her on her journey." This was a slight lie, but still close enough to the truth. "As to how I knew her, before she lived in Ithilien, she lived in Rivendell: my home."

Her grin disappeared as she thought of the horrible things that had driven Eglawen and many others out of Rivendell. After taking the time to push these things out of her mind, she said to Randir, "Now, if you'd be so kind, what are you really doing here?"

theWhiteLady

08-01-2003, 08:12 AM

The sun and the wind had mixed together in wonderful harmony as it can sometimes do on pleasant, lazy summer days, and Laurie was taking it all in with big deeps breaths. Rays of sunshine shot through outstretched leaves, warming her face and arms as she rode into the inn yard; a soft breeze blew a few strands of her golden hair loose. Dismounting off her brown mare, Laurie cast a glance around the yard, smiling slightly as she did so as though a bit lost in thought, before resting her eyes on the two figures by the water pump.

Laurie tucked her hair behind her ears and gave her horse an affectionate pat before making her way over to where the man and women sat. On closer inspection, however, the two seemed in deep conversation and the young woman halted uncertainly. She did want to interrupt what seemed to be a serious discussion, so she began to riffle around in her pockets, as though looking for a coin, to excuse her strange behavior. Perhaps they had not even noticed her...

Kryssal

08-01-2003, 08:25 AM

The angle at which the sun now shone through the window indicated that Domen needed to get going if he wanted to reach his destination before nightfall. Grumbling about how his family should get younger Hobbits to do travel deliveries he slowly got up out of the chair and after leaving money for food and pony care, left the Inn.

Apple was now groomed and fed well enough, but not too much. Domen smiled and rubbed her nose.

"Ready to get going girl?" Soon she was hitched up to the little wagon again. It took Domen two tries, but he finally got up to the driving seat. Smiling at the lad who helped him yet again, he tossed down two more coins with a wink and flicked the reigns to get going.

Apple started to amble along at an easy pace for both her, the master, and the cargo. Domen looked back at the Inn with a soft eye. I'll be telling my family about that Inn there, tis nice it is. Soon, the Green Dragon Inn was out of sight and only the road before him.

Opal Wren

08-01-2003, 10:03 AM

The young woman walked into the stable, leading a magnificent golden stallion. They were both tired, as they had travelled far that day and all year. Even though the road was dusty, both the stallion and the young woman were devoid of dust.
For herself, the young woman was short for her age, around twenty-three, but nevertheless carried herself with a sense of dignity and pride. Her eyes were large, and were a kind of golden amber color, and while they normally shone with good health, exhaustion had made them dull. Her hair was dark brown with hints of red, and she wore a feather in it. A sword poked through her dark travelling garb. She is human, and prefers not to say where from. Her past is dark.
The horse tossed his large, long head, his eyes sparking with haughty impatience. He was obviously of fine blood, for his coat shone and his neck was arched. His legs were long, lean and strong, the hooves meticously cared for. Slight feather sprouted from his fetlocks, and the saddle he wore was of black leather. His tail was set at a high point, and was full and flowing. A white stripe bumped down the stallion's face.

"Hello," she said to the lady by the water pump, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. "Do you know where I could rest my horse for the day, and find something to eat for myself?" Her voice carried a slight gruffness, but was otherwise friendly. The stallion sidestepped and snorted, and the young woman calmed him down. "By the way, my name is Talia. Talia Forthbound."

-Opal Wren-

_____________________________________________

Opal

Since you do not have your Private Messages enabled:

Welcome to the Shire. Please make sure you have read The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire. It gives all the rules for posting in the Inn and in Games.

This was a nice first post - but can you be a little more descriptive please. Tell us what the young woman looks like, how she dresses, is she dusty from her traveling, bear an distinguishin marks? You say she is tired - go ahead and make her look tired with words. Is she an Elf or a mortal - and what sort of either is she and where from? And your horse, a stallion or mare? Big or small, and fine featured?

Let us know all these things, so that when we include you in our posts, we can use your descriptions to clue you and others in who we are referring to.

Looking forward to 'seeing' more of your character.

Thanks! ~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

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

[ August 01, 2003: Message edited by: Opal Wren ]

[ August 01, 2003: Message edited by: Opal Wren ]

Envinyatar

08-01-2003, 12:19 PM

Derufin watched as the girl wolfed down her half of the sandwich and reached for the remaining half. She looked up at him, her face coloring as her fingers touched it. ‘Go ahead,’ he lied, taking up one of the apples he had brought out. ‘I’ve already eaten my sandwich.’ He pushed the cookies and the other apple toward her, too. ‘Try these, when you’ve finished there,’ he said. ‘Cook is famous for her nut butter cookies.’

He watched her as she tucked into her meal. It was obviously the only substantial one she’d had in several days if he had the right of it. He wondered how old she was. Her thin features made her look both young and old. She looked to be a few years older than his daughter, and he wondered then, if there were parents who missed her and were worried.

She chattered on between bites, and he smiled that she should be so trusting of a stranger. A pleasant trait, but one dangerous for one so young and on the road. Her voice flowed on as he chewed on his apple, flipping the core to the ponies who had come near the railing of the corral to eye him. He realized, of a sudden, that she had become silent, and was looking up at him expectantly. He focused his thoughts back on her, trying to recall her last words.

“Could I help out in your stables? Or do you know anyone who needs a ‘prentice?” – that was what she had said.

‘As a matter of fact, I am shorthanded at the moment – but before we go discussing business, perhaps we should know each other’s names.’ He poured a cup of cool cider from the jug Cook had sent out with him. ‘I’m Derufin, the stableman, ostler here at the Inn,’ he said, extending the cup to her. ‘And you would be . . .?’

piosenniel

08-01-2003, 12:37 PM

Cook had come out to the hen yard, a large green bowl held firmly in the crook of one arm. Today was the day she made her bread pudding and she had had the girls trim the crusts carefully from the stale bread before she cubed it for use. An now she had come into the yard to feed the hens the crusts – plump hens pleased her no end. She had an eye to stewing or stuffing the tasty fowl at a later date - best to keep them fat, happy, and succulent, she thought to herself.

She had just scattered the first handful into the yard, when she thought she spied a familiar figure standing in the yard. Wiping her hand on her apron, she shaded her eyes and looked toward where Derufin was chatting up what looked to be another stray. ‘For all his loss, that man has the softest heart,’ she said to herself, as she watched him draw the youngster out.

But there, standing near them, was someone she remembered. ‘Mistress Piosenniel’s little friend, if these old eyes don’t deceive me. Now what was her name?’ The sun caught the young woman’s hair, setting it aflame with flickering gold lights. ‘That was it!' Mistress Piosenniel had told them how the lass’s name meant golden – like the great tree from the old story from the West that the Elf had told them.

‘Laurie!’ she called out. ‘Mistress Laurie! Is that you come back to visit?’

Esgallhugwen

08-01-2003, 02:05 PM

Esgallhugwen looked up at Lira 'tell her that I will help too if the situation gets worse, but now I am in need of a few hours rest, I rode from a great distance without little stop last night' She excused herself and headed up the stairs. She closed the door behind her, sitting on the bed she took up her dark yew bow and stroked the silver engraving plucking the string to ensure that it was taught enough to fire an arrow.

Setting the bow beside her pack she layed back drifting into unsettling dreams that remained untame.

Esgallhugwen awoke in her bed, long sheer curtains of a green hue flew out across the open floor, the room had no doors or window; it was her summer room. Filled with the fresh scent of flowers, she rose to see her mother.

When she arrived her mother had tears streaming down her face 'daughter I fear your father has fallen to great darkness, a shadow lies within him our doom is near at hand, I will not live to see the end whether it be good or bad though more likely the later. But you must promise me that you will live to see the end so that there is at least some goodness in it!' her mother wept tears of joy and sorrow, knowing her child was of strong mind and body and also knowing that her time drew nigh come the passing of the next year. To live to see the end Esgallhugwen promised for she too knew of the sorrow, the Dark Hand's reign had grown taking hold of her father though he accepted Sauron as his master willfully and they knew not why.

Seeking now to have council with her father she pushed past the gaurded doors and entered the long hall. 'Father' she beckoned him from his throne 'Many people hath followed you here in hope of independance, and I percieve that many will still follow you into your folly! A darkness has reached across all the lands of Middle-Earth, are we not ment to be Sauron's foe, instead to be his ally?' With that he struck her across the face drawing blood from her lip.

'Never before have you spoke such treachery to me, ill gotten daughter better to slay you now and have my wife bear me a son... but alas she spent her great spirit in the making of you!' hot and fell were his words. Esgallhugwen's spirit raged with wrathful fire but her eyes remained hauntinly calm as she gazed upon her father; seating himself once more upon his throne.

She turned smoothly like a ghost she seemed her pale blue gown trailed out behind her. She went past the great doors of the hall. He would no longer listen to reason not even from his own daughter.

Esgallhugwen and her mother did not speek to him for over a year busying themselves with helping small groups of their people to escape without notice. But too slow they had acted for he had a plan of his own.

Chathol-linn

08-01-2003, 02:13 PM

“Willofain is my name.” The girl raised the cup. “That was the best meal I have had in two moons’ passage, Master Derufin, and here’s to you. All that time, and more before, I was on the road from my village. My Aunt Manta and Uncle Balec, well ... I ran away.”

When Derufin made no reply she said, “They took me in when my parents died. Our village was on no map, of course, but we gave it a name. ‘Go-Fast’ we called it, because if you left it, you had best go fast. To linger in the Mirkwood was perilous. They call it Laesgalen now, yes? Anyway, the thought of spending my life in Go-Fast scared me more than the woods or the loneliness. So I devised a plan and ran away, just in time.”

She saw a question in Derufin’s eyes. “ No, they did not mistreat me. They, we, were just so poor. It took all their energy to live, and they had none left over for laughter or love. But it was not their fault and I lay no blame.”

Behind her, Willofain heard the thump of hooves on dirt: newcomers approached on two horses. She bowed and took the reins.

“What a fine brown mare and a lovely golden stallion,” she said. “By your leave, ladies, I will pump fresh water for them and take them to their stalls. Note how sweet the stable smells with its new hay? Later I would like to hear your tales of the road., and perchance, news of Orcs.”

theWhiteLady

08-01-2003, 02:58 PM

A familiar, ringing voice broke through Laurie's confused and slightly embarrased musings, causing her to turn and then raise her hands in joy.

"Cook!" she exclaimed in delighted surprise. Half running over to where the hobbit stood, she stooped and enveloped her in a soft hug. "It's wonderful to see you again! Why, how are you? How have things been? How is the inn? I have no doubt you've been kept busy."

Instead of answering her questions - in truth, she had quite lost track - Cook replied with one of her own. "Miss Laurie, what's brought you back to the Green Dragon? I rather thought you had left for good!"

"I've been learning more of the Shire and its delightful inhabitants," Laurie replied smiling. "It is peaceful here, and the people are so happy; there seems to be much that can be learned from your simple ways. But of late, I've began to fancy going farther north. Not much is heard about that land and I've returned to find out what I can about it and why it is so deserted."

"Well, I don't know how much I can tell you about that, but there has been quite a few changes since you last left." And Cook took the young lady by the arm and, while she finished feeding her chickens, began to relate all the latest doings and describe the various characters that had entered and departed the Inn.

She talked for a solid ten minutes and Laurie listened politely and indeed, with much interest, noting especially the news that there was a new innkeeper. Just as the last breadcrust was devoured by an extremely plump hen, the young lady who had presently been speaking by the water pump, approached Laurie. "Thank you, ma'am! Her name is Nell," Laurie replied and gave the mare an affectionate pat. "I'm sure she would appreciate a bit of a lunch as well, if you aren't too busy."

"Cook," the young lady turned back to the hobbit with a wink, "I do believe it's near lunchtime, you wouldn't have something warm and delicious for a weary traveler to feast upon, would you?"

[ August 01, 2003: Message edited by: theWhiteLady ]

TaliesinWest

08-01-2003, 04:53 PM

Sabmel ambled into the inn, running a hand through a dark mop of hair that was rather in need of a washing. Quite looking forward to a meal that wouldn't consist of dried fruit, stale bread, or jerky, she made a beeline for the first person that looked as if they were a server or cook of some sort (who happened to be a hobbit who was just thinking of getting a little more beer).

'Hello there!' she said, flashing a winsome smile. 'Something sizable, filling, and delicious, if you please. Oh, and a full tankard of ale.' And with that, she strode off to find a table before the bewildered little fellow had time to reply.

Not too much later the poor hobbit came over to the woman carrying a savory stew, half a loaf of bread, and an ample amount of ale.

'Many thanks, my friend!' she said, laying some coin into his hand and setting upon her meal, which quickly began to disappear.

Arestevana

08-01-2003, 05:40 PM

Randir frowned. That cheeky grin of hers did not sit well with him. He had the sneaking suspicion that Meg was laughing; somewhere inside her head where he couldn't catch her and be offended. Well, two could play that game, he decided. Looking at the elf with a solemn, innocent expression, he said, "Of course I joined her in Rivendell, fair lady. I am not often in Ithilen, and why should I travel to her aid, with a warrior such as yourself to protect her?"

Randir dropped the innocent expression and watched Megilien, his face blank. She was irritated, that much he knew. He saw that she was also confused, unable to bring an immediate end to his lies, though she obviously knew them to be such. It unnerved him, however, that he was still able to detect something of private laughter behind her eyes; as if she knew something he didn't.

With a mental laugh of his own, Randir adopted innocence once more. If she was so intent on his lies, he would tell her the truth. "As to my business, why, at the moment, I'm sitting here and listening to you." He accepted her icy glare with a smile, knowing he had irritated her again and enjoying the knowledge. Finally, Megilien spoke. Her tone was as cold as her gaze, which had wavered in the slightest. "Though what you are hiding I cannot tell, other things come easier to my mind. Randir, you are lying."

Randir pushed his chair back from the table and stood. He looked at Megilien sternly, all innocence gone from his expression. "Yes. I am lying. As are you, Megilien, if you will think back over your last words. Now, if you don't mind, I am off to bed. It is near noon, and I have not slept since the sun rose two days ago. Men require more sleep than elves, I understand, but surely you are tired as well. It it a long journey from--" He stopped, gazing at her. "Rivendell." He finished, a slight smile on his face. He turned and began to walk away.

[ August 02, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

Elentarimir

08-01-2003, 07:10 PM

Megilien continued to laugh inwardly, knowing that in doing so, she infuriated Randir. His last few statements puzzled her slightly, but she nonetheless knew, by some sixth sense, that he was lying. She told him this coldly, and he said a few things to her. He made to get up, but she pressed her hand down on his shoulder. She was strong, and managed to get him to stay, despite the fact that he was a bit bigger than her.

"Doubtless," she said, "you do need your rest. However, that can wait a bit...until you answer my questions." She grinned wickedly again, only for the sake of infuriating him. It worked. "And, since we both know that the other is lying, then there is no point in keeping up this charade, is there?" He gave her an odd look, then shook his head. "Now," she said. "Here is the fault I find in your story. If you had joined her in Rivendell, I would definitely have seen you: I stayed for a bit after she left. Now, if you would please tell me why you are here? And please do not lie this time," she added softly.

"If you tell the truth to me," she said after a bit of time, where Randir considered telling, "I shall tell you what I am doing here: no lies."

GaladrieloftheOlden

08-01-2003, 07:12 PM

No OOC (Out Of Character) comments are to be posted in the Inn except by the Moderators and the Innkeeper.

Please send a PM to the person(s) you wish to contact.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ August 02, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Envinyatar

08-02-2003, 03:22 AM

Derufin’s stomach protested its empty state, prompting him off the bench and back into the kitchen. Cook was sitting at the kitchen table with a lovely young woman, who was tucking into the generous meal that was placed before her with a hearty appetite. He sliced himself some more ham and two thick slices of bread. Slathering them with mustard, he piled on the ham, and added a thin slice of cheddar for good measure. A few pickles later, and a slab of apple tart on the side, and he had filled his plate to brimming.

He approached the table where the two women were sitting and sat down as unobtrusively as possible. The golden haired young lady looked up as he took his place, and he smiled at her, asking both of them if they minded his company. Cook motioned to him to stay seated and the two resumed their conversation. Derufin was half listening as he ate when he heard Cook tell her about Mistress Piosenniel’s soon-to-be return to the Inn.

‘Not quite certain when that will be,’ she told Laurie, ‘but she and her mister and the twins will be here, and they will have their Naming Day party here.’

‘Two weeks from yesterday.’ The quiet voice of the man broke in on their talk. Cook looked at him, her eyebrows raised at this statement. He reddened slightly, and ducked his head, concentrating on his apple tart. ‘Two weeks,’ he mumbled around his mouthful of sweets. ‘She wrote to me. That’s when they will be here.’

‘I see,’ said Cook, an appraising look come into her eyes.

‘I’ll just be off now,’ he mumbled, gathering up his dish to deposit it into the sink. ‘I seem to have picked up a new helper, and I’d like to get her settled in. Willofain’s her name . . . an orphan of sorts . . . from somewhere near Lasgalen . . . handy with horses . . . chickens too, it seems . . .’ He broke off, realizing he was prattling on, and now both women were staring at him.

‘Yes . . . well . . .’ he fled to the door and was almost through it when Cook’s voice stopped him. ‘Talk to Beren, will you, Derufin. He’s in need of a room. I suggested perhaps he could bunk out with you.’ With a nod, Derufin hurried out the door and in to the yard beyond.

Cook laughed at his hastily retreating figure. ‘I should have known! Mistress Piosenniel has made another conquest!’ She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. ‘I wonder if she has any idea . . .’

Arestevana

08-02-2003, 10:40 AM

Megilien's strength surprised Randir. He found himself sitting once again, aware that this was not his own doing. "You wish to know my true business." He said. It was not a question. "I do not care to know yours, because I believe I already do. However if you wish to tell me, I will hazard a guess that this is not the time nor place."

He looked around. The sun was streaming through the windows and a hoard of hungry hobbits had begun to flood the inn. "Unless you wish all the town to know your story, true or false, I beleive it can wait." He stood again, capturing Megilien's wrist as she made to stop him once more. He knew she was strong, now, but he also knew he was stronger. "And now, If you really don't mind, I must get some rest." She glared at him. He grinned. "No lies." She continued glaring, her face set. He raised his free hand defensively. "Come now, Megilien, I've had a long ride. Surely you can admit that. It's a hard journey!" He did not say 'from Rivendell' because he knew she had heard him before. It wasn't a hard ride from Rivendell at all, with the roads repaired and well watched. But since neither of them had come from Rivendell... Randir released Meg's arm and walked away, climbing the stairs to his quarters.

When he reached his quarters, Randir locked the door and drew the curtains across the window. Then he collapsed on the bed and fell asleep immediately.

Imladris

08-02-2003, 11:15 AM

Lira rose from her table and, after bidding Esgallhugwen farewell, began to seek for the Innkeeper. She had seen the Innkeeper and a man disappear inside the kitchen and she began to wander there, silently drifting by the busy tables. Soon, she found herself before the doorway of the kitchen and, glancing inside, she saw a hobbit and a fair young lady conversing, a man brushed by her in haste, and a man and a woman, whom she recognized as the Innkeeper, were slicing vegetables and bread.

Lira, who was rather shy for an elf, tried to decide if she should wait for the Innkeeper to become free or just interrupt her now. Lira groaned as she considered that it might be better to interrupt their conversation instead of waiting...she may not have another chance to offer her services. Slowly, softly, she crept towards their table and discovered that there as a lull in the conversation between the Inn-keeper and the man. "Do you need help with anything, Mistress Inn-keeper, especially with the rumors of the goblin-men?" she asked in her fair voice.

Chathol-linn

08-02-2003, 12:07 PM

Willofain tore through the yard and stables like a youngster at the Dale toy market, exploring. She found some rooms that looked lived-in. “Derufin’s” she thought, and passed them by. But the next room did not look so private. Behind the door she found a set of clothes hanging on a peg. They could have belonged to any tall person, either man or woman.

“Good!” she thought, and set to work. In no time she had stripped off her woolen tunic and breeches and put on the unknown person’s shirt. It hung halfway to her knees like her tunic, and she belted it with the piece of rope she used. Then she hurried to the stable yard, found the oaken bucket, and filled it with clean water from the pump.

“Wash day!” Willofain said to the inn-folk who had finished their lunches and were walking about the yard or heading for the town road. Some waved cheerfully, and others seemed too sunk in their thoughts to notice.

Soon the homespun garments were hanging in the sun to dry and Willofain put her mind to the next project. She wanted mightily to hear talk of orcs, goblins, or any sort of ruffians and saw that the inn suited her purpose perfectly. And if she learned nothing in the common room tonight – after she was cleaned up a bit and ready to socialize – then she would start looking the town over for the man she had followed from Bree. The one who held his own against the orcs.

Musing over this thought, Willofain put her hand into the pocket of the shirt she had borrowed. What was this? Frowning she pulled forth an object. Her blue eyes widened.

“I had better tell Derufin,” Willofain said to herself. “Or even the Innkeeper herself! Whose shirt can this be?” And she headed for the inn's back door.

Theoric Windcaller

08-02-2003, 12:15 PM

Theoric walked in, his clothes worn from travel and his axe strapped to his back. He recognized this place, for he had been here many times before. He set his axe down by the other weapons walked to the bar.

"Hello, old friend," smiled the dwarf as Aman turned to see her old dwarven friend. "May I have a pint of hobbit-stout?"

[ August 02, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Envinyatar

08-02-2003, 03:07 PM

In his haste to leave the scrutiny of Cook, Derufin ran to the safety of his domain without much attention to where he was going. Imagine his surprise as he ran into a line of wet clothing, flapping in the breeze on a line strung from the southern entrance to the stables to the lone ash tree that shaded the windows of his quarters.

‘By the One! What’s this?!’ he muttered, picking a raggedy looking shirt from his face.

Willowfain, seeing him run from the kitchen door, had followed him, and tried to shout out a warning. Derufin turned the shirt in his hands, and after a moment handed it to the girl. ‘Yours, I take it,’ he said, eyeing the one she had put on while her own dried. ‘Best you ask next time before borrowing clothes from people’s rooms. Though I don’t think the person whose shirt that was will be needing it any longer. Still, do ask first.’

‘I’ve been thinking – my assistant is gone for a while, perhaps you can help out in the stable until she returns, and after that, we can leave you to handle the hens, and perhaps assist the new gardener.’ He walked into the stable, the bright sunlight of late morning, fading to a cool shade. ‘Up there,’ he said, pointing to the loft, ‘if you don’t mind it a bit rough, is where you can bunk. Vanwe’s place is there on the left you can make a nest for yourself on the right.’ He pointed back up at the Inn. ‘Go ask Cook if she’ll let you into the attic. There are some extra mattresses up there you can bring in, and one of the maids can give you some linens and a blanket. Just tell them both I’ve sent you.’

‘Hurry now,’ he said, as she stood there with her hand in the shirt’s lower pocket. ‘We’ll need to see to the horses in the corral – take them out one by one and get them brushed up a bit . . .’

Esgallhugwen

08-02-2003, 03:13 PM

The hot tears caressed Esgallhugwen's pale sleeping face, she lay there motionless except for the slight flickering of her eyelids. She awoke wiping the tears from her face, trying to take slow calm breaths though her emotions soared once again much like last night with rage and sorrow. She had almost screamed out but caught it in her throat just in time.

Esgallhugwen stepped over to the dresser and looked in the mirror a smooth trickle of blood crept down her lip and chin, she filled the water basin and washed her face. A pale silver pendant fell out from her shirt on a chain.

Delicate spirals and knots sheathed an Elvish stone. Clear it was but gave off a faint glow where evil lurked and an even stronger light was emitted from it when the wearers emotion was at it's peak.

The light now faded slowly as Esgallhugwen gained hold of her self. She dried off tucking the necklace back under the shirt.

Opal Wren

08-02-2003, 04:02 PM

Talia got no answer from the young woman, whose name turned out to be Laurie. It didn't really surprise or upset her, and so she saw an empty stall and put her horse inside it, keeping him fully tacked. Loading a bucket with water for him, she lugged it in the stall and set it down. Closing the door, Talia hoped she wouldn't need to lock it. Then she smiled to herself. 'Of course I don't. Sunrunner can take care of himself.'

Wiping her hands on her pants, she turned and walked back outside. Pushing the door of the Inn open, she found a table in a dark corner.

"Hobbit-stout, please!" she called, then opened her pack and took out a plain silver knife for polishing. Talia knew the weapon well, and it had saved her life on more than one occaison. When she was through with the knife, she took out a roll of parchment, quill and ink from her bag and began to write, humming softly to herself.

-Talia Forthbound-

Chathol-linn

08-02-2003, 05:14 PM

Now Willofain might be a ragged orphan but she had her dignity. “I borrowed the shirt, Master Derufin,” she replied. “I am no thief.” Then as the stablemaster grinned at her and folded his arms, she realized she was, in fact, a failed chicken thief.

“Oh drat,” she said. “A long time ago, when I was helping at another inn, I took a blueberry pie from the windowsill. I had never tasted blueberries, you see, and I was curious. When Master Bruno asked me, I denied it. But he told me to stick out my tongue, and it was blue! So I was fairly caught. He marched me to the woodshed, pausing to pick a switch, and dusted the seat of my breeches properly for stealing and lying.”

She put one hand to her backside in memory of the beating. “Bruno was stern but fair and I promised not to steal or lie again. So far I have kept the promise. I have no wish to be turned away from the Green Dragon. I will be your assistant and do all just as you say, with thanks for the bed and board. But…”

She held up her other, closed, hand. “I found this in the pocket. I have seen such things before – in what remained of my village Go-Fast.”

Willofain opened her hand. The bystanders who had gathered around gasped and recoiled.

It was a loop of twisted metal wire, strung with teeth. Humans’, Dwarves’, Elves’. And Hobbits’, or children’s.

“An Orc-necklace,” someone murmured.

“Whoever owned this shirt had dealings with Orcs, whether friend or foe.” She handed the grisly token to the stablemaster. “Can you see this gets into the proper hands? For maybe the captain of guard will have questions.”

The inn-folk stood talking worriedly. Willofain’s young face was worried too, as she went to see Cook. A dark-haired woman was in the common room, writing, and Willofain wished sadly that she too could read and write. Then she proceeded to the corral and her duties, wondering what would happen next.

Opal Wren

08-02-2003, 07:05 PM

Talia looked up at the commotion and frowned. 'An Orc-necklace?' she thought. 'What would an orphan such as her be doing with that?' She had not heard the entire thing, and so was unaware that Willofain hadn't gotten hold of the necklace on purpose.

Curious, she put her writing tools back in her pack and followed the girl out to the corral. "Beg pardon," Talia said. "Could I have a word with you?" she asked the girl.

-Talia Forthbound-

Chathol-linn

08-02-2003, 07:43 PM

The orphan heard the voice behind her and turned around. It was the dark-haired woman of the common room, she with the parchment and quill.

“Yes, indeed, you may speak with me all you wish,” said Willofain. “But I am new to the inn and to my duties. I would not like to prove tardy on my first day. If you have a mount in the stables or corral, you could come with me there. Or we could talk later, in the common room or elsewhere. What is your pleasure, Miss? And may I know your name? Mine is Willofain.”

Phrim

08-02-2003, 10:14 PM

It was a pleasant day for a stroll in the Shire: blue skies, a slight breeze, not too hot and yet not too cool. The birds in the trees were chattering merrily, taking no heed of the plump little figure below making his way slowly but surely down the road. A curious figure he was, his gait buoyant, his face jovial, his little brown eyes shining at everything his vision touched. Atop his head sat a shock of unruly hair, curls going in every direction; mostly brown it was, but with a tinge of grey. The ambling hobbit was dressed for travel, at least as much as a hobbit ought to be dressed up for such things, and was humming to himself faintly.

Unheard to the distant birds, but quite the cacophony to the poor little hobbit, was the rumbling of a stomach. It was nearing time for the noontime meal, and not having eaten since his rather large breakfast, the hobbit was quite hungry indeed. Fortunately, the quaint little town of Bywater was on the horizon, with its renowned inn, The Green Dragon, noted for its fine ale, wholesome food, and good company. Upon seeing an end to this leg of his journey, the hobbit quickened his pace, and shortly arrived at the bustling inn.

The inn was noisy, as inns ought to be, and filled with a diverse clientele: mostly hobbits filled the room, but there were also a good number of men as well as a few dwarves hidden in a dark corner. A dutiful servant to his stomach, our hobbit made no delay in finding a table and flagging down a barmaid. "Name's Tad, Tad Bushytop," the hobbit said to the serving-lass, "I'm not late for lunch, am I?"

"Not at all, Mr. Bushytop, you're just in time," replied the barmaid. "My name's Ruby, by the way."

"You can call me Tad, if you please," Bushytop said amicably. "Could you get me an ale while I'm waiting, m'dear?"

"Right away," said Ruby, as she headed back to the bar area.

As Ruby left, Bushytop reflected on his trip ahead. Not often did he make the journey down to Frogmorton; any hobbit of the Shire knows that traveling from Waymoot to Frogmorton was more than an lazy afternoon's stroll. But it was time for the annual family summer-party, and the parties thrown by the Bushytops of Frogmorton were not to be missed. It would be even more festive this year, Bushytop noted, for his niece Laureli was finally getting married. It would be a grand time, he decided, the best party he'd been to in years. If only Frogmorton were a bit closer...

Ruby returned promptly with his ale, and Bushytop turned to her and said, "Say Ruby, have you heard of Laureli Bushytop?"

"As a matter of fact I have, Mr. Tad," Ruby replied. "I've got some cousins out in Frogmorton. Say, isn't she getting married this weekend?"

"That she is, Ruby m'dear, she's my niece," Bushytop said, beaming with pride.

"Oh, you must be heading out to the party!" Ruby exclaimed. "I'm so jealous; that party has been the talk of the tavern."

"That I am, m'dear, that I am," said Bushytop delightedly.

"Well, your food will be right out, Mr. Tad," said Ruby cheerfully, and she headed back into the kitchen.

Talk of the tavern, eh? And out here in Bywater, too. Bushytop knew that little Laureli was a popular girl, but this was just too much. He was doubly sure his trip to Frogmorton would be worth it this year, as long of a walk as it may be. Caught up in his daydreams about the good folks and bountiful food that would be at his niece's wedding, Bushytop's current hunger was almost pushed into the back of his mind. Almost.

"Boy, am I hungry," Bushytop said to himself.

Envinyatar

08-03-2003, 02:59 AM

Ruby flew into the kitchen and grabbed Buttercup by the arm. ‘Guess who’s come to the Inn,’ she said. Buttercup shrugged her shoulders and went on cutting up the potatoes, onions and carrots for the coney stew that Cook had planned for supper.

‘Best you just go ahead and tell me,’ she returned, giving the big kettle with the disjointed coneys in it a stir. ‘Taste this,’ she said, offering a spoonful of broth to Ruby. ‘Needs more rosemary, and a couple of pinches of salt, I think. Don’t you?’ Ruby shook her head yes, then proceeded to tell her of the arrival of Tad Bushytop.

‘You mean Laureli’s uncle? The one who’s getting married this weekend.’ Buttercup plunked the wooden stirring spoon down on the spoon rest near the hearth. ‘It’s supposed to be a whopper of a party, and I understand that Laureli’s Aunt and her Gammer are making the wedding cake.’ Buttercup’s eyes shone at thoughts of her own wedding and the cake she would have. The only problem with that line of thinking was that she had no beau to imagine being wed to. Ruby commiserated with her, too. Working at the Inn did not leave much time for romance.

She and Ruby loaded up a plate for Mr. Tad. Thick cut slices of brown bread, a small crock of sweet cream butter, a wedge of Shire sharp cheddar, a bowl of vegetable soup filled with the bounty of the Inn garden, and a generous slice of apple tart. Ruby picked up the serving platter and was about to exit the kitchen, when Buttercup’s voice stopped her.

‘Ask him if he’ll bring us back a thin slice each of the wedding cake, Ruby. My Gran always told me if you slept with a slice under your pillow you’ld dream of your true love. Let’s give it a try!’

Ruby laughed and said she’d ask if the right opportunity came along. ‘And besides, if we don’t have that sort of dream, we’ll still have the piece of tasty cake to eat.’ She set the food in front of the hungry Hobbit, and laid his silverware on a napkin to the side. His mug was empty and she got him a refill, then hovered a bit, wondering how she was going to ask for such an odd favor.

Opal Wren

08-03-2003, 07:40 AM

Talia smiled. "I understand about your work. No, it would not do for you to be tardy, you're right. As it happens, I do have a mount in the stables." As she said this, a whinny reached thier ears. "That'll be Sunrunner. I'm Talia Forthbound, by the way.
I'll accompany you to the stables."

"Willofain, that's a pretty name. How did you come to be at the Inn? I myself only just got here as well."

-Talia Forthbound-

Novnarwen

08-03-2003, 11:42 AM

After an intense hour of planning for the day to come, Stirru and Folw sat completely silent, just watching the day grow older. The two men sat gazing out of the window, watching people come and go. "We might consider getting ourselves a room for tonight," Fowl said at last. Stirru sat motionless, nodding. "On you then," he said seriously after taking his eyes from the window. Folw gave a laugh. "Yeah, since I can afford it," he told his companion. Stirru looked down, taking his hand gently into his pocket. "It's empty. I don't have money."

Folw made a sigh, giving the man a stare. His eyes turned elsewhere; a man pacing around in the room. The sound of coins making noise in his pocket made both Stirru and Folw smile. Giggling to be exact. "What are you waiting for?" Folw asked his partner, while bringing his pipe up, from his own pocket and blowing out white skies. Stirru coughed, but blinked to the man sitting at his side. "Wait here, okey?" he said.

Folw made no answer, but blowed another white sky out of the pipe, while Stirru rised. Stirru went gently towards the man. That's my boy, Folw thought seating himself properly in his chair, waiting for the show to start. That's my boy indeed, he repeated to himself, giving no sign what so ever that he was nervous. This was only a daily problem, which could be solved in no time.

theWhiteLady

08-03-2003, 03:30 PM

Cook excused herself on kitchen business some minutes after the departure of Derufin, as Laurie had learned the stablemaster was called. The young woman puzzled over his odd behavior for awhile before turning her thoughts instead to his news that Pio would soon be returning to the inn. And with her twins and husband, no less! She smiled, trying to imagine what the babes would like. They would be strong-willed, of course, like their mother! Laurie wondered if the birth had been as easy as the elf had seemed so confident it would be. 'Well,' Laurie decided, 'she was right that there would be twins. No doubt she was right about that too.' There was no question of how long she would be staying now; she needed a good rest anyway, and two weeks seemed just about right to do it.

As these thoughts ran through her mind, Laurie had been studying the common room. It was full of its usual motley assortment of characters, most spread out in clusters of two or three talking together, but there was one man, rather young but dressed in the livery of the Tower of the Guard of Minas Tirith, who sat alone. His head was bowed over a tall mug and his shoulders hunched, the stain of travel was upon his cloak. Everything about his appearance, especially the sword worn openly by his side, seemed a bit out of place in the quiet Shire, leaving Laurie no doubt that he had just arrived from a long travel and, judging from his armour, perhaps from Minas Tirith itself.

A thrill of excitement ran through the young lady, causing her to rise quickly and nearly trip over her dress. "Sir," she nearly whispered as she stumbled over to the his table, "I judge from your dress that you hail from the White City. Perhaps, if you do not mind my intrusion, you would give me news of that region?" Laurie faltered slightly as the man raised his head. His eyes did not seem at first to focus upon her, as though his mind had been elsewhere, and Laurie waited uncertainly for his answer, beginning to hope he would not be angry at her for interrupting his thoughts.

Chathol-linn

08-03-2003, 06:26 PM

“Then greetings to you, Talia” The orphan girl produced half an apple, saved from her borrowed lunch with Derufin. “A gift to Sunrunner – no doubt that big golden stallion there. I could have used him in my journey from Go-Fast. I was on the road from there to here almost two years.”

They came to the corral and Willofain offered the treat to Talia’s horse. “I ran away to make a different life for myself. I did not know the Orcs would strike my village that very day I left. When I heard the cries, I returned but what could one unarmed girl do against a band of Orcs? I hid” – here Willofain looked both fierce and ashamed – “and later buried my folk. Now that I have a decent place to live, I would like to stop traveling awhile and study to be a warrior. Or maybe a tracker. So I can hunt Orcs.”

The dark-haired woman said nothing so Willofain asked: “What of your story? Have you traveled far? Are you a scholar or a bard? Do you know any of the inn-folk yet?”

Opal Wren

08-03-2003, 06:48 PM

Talia smiled at the girl's gift. "Thank you. Come, you can give it to him yourself; I'll introduce you." Going over to the unlocked stall, she pulled open the door and went inside. Taking Sunrunner's bridle, she led him out, his coat glistening in the midday sun. "Here he is," she said. "He's carried me far, and we've known each other for at least half our lives. I came here from Gondor, stopped at Mirkwood, where I got him, and travelled the rest of the time. As for my profession, I go wherever there is music needed or a story to be taken down. I guess you could call me a bard, then."

Talia regarded the girl thoughtfully. "You've come far, then, if you were strong enough to survive an Orc attack. Such strength is not commonly found, especially from one so young. Tell me, Willofain, and please don't think me rude, but I'm curious where you got that necklace. If you don't want to answer, you don't have to." She stepped back to consider the girl as Sunrunner nickered and nudged Willofain's hand, crunching contentedly on the apple, his eyes bright.

"Well, if Sunrunner here finds you in good order, I suppose there is no reason to doubt you. He's an excellent judge of character, Runner, and I trust his word...or lack thereof," Talia said, chuckling softly. "Of course...your duties are to be getting on with. May I help?" Her golden eyes glittered with interest.

-Talia Forthbound-

Chathol-linn

08-03-2003, 08:16 PM

Willofain answered: “I found the Orc-necklace by accident, while I was waiting for the worthy Stablemaster to assign me my duties. While exploring the stables, you see, I found an empty room with a set of clothes inside. I borrowed the shirt so I could wash my own, and in the pocket I found that awful thing. It looked like the one I saw in my village that day the Orcs attacked.”

The bard-woman seemed curious, so Willofain continued. “I tried to give it to Derufin, but there were so many people near us, I got jostled. I don’t know if Derufin has it, or what, and now he is gone! But he said a frightening thing before he left. He said, of my borrowed shirt, ‘the owner won’t be needing it.’ – or something like that.”

Willofain shook her head. “I think whoever owned the shirt had dealings with an Orc, as friend or foe. How else would the Orc-necklace come to be in the pocket? And whoever has it now, I hope they are careful. The Orc owner might want it back, and I keep hearing tales of ruffians.”

“Did you see any ruffians on your road from Gondor, Miss Talia? And did you know there is a man here – I followed him from Bree – whose speech sounds just like yours?”

Opal Wren

08-04-2003, 11:03 AM

Talia frowned. "How, indeed...? Ruffians? The road from Gonor is long, willofain. I've seen some, yes, but no more than one would consider normal. Although..." She suddenly remembered the groups of dark-hooded figures she'd spotted on the roads near the Inn. "I'd have to warn you, my friend, that I have seen what you would call ruffians near here. However, they could be Rangers for all I know. Why? Have there been attacks here before, do you know?" A sudden idea occured to her. "Perhaps the ruffians are looking for that Orc-necklace you found. Why don't I find this Derufin and inquire whether or not he has it? Did he say which way he was going?"

"You'll have to introduce me to this man, who you say sounds like me, when we're done here. Perhaps I know him, though I've not seen him around. What is his name?"

-Talia Forthbound-

[ August 04, 2003: Message edited by: Opal Wren ]

Meneltarmacil

08-04-2003, 02:22 PM

Aramil, a tall, blond haired elf wearing a dark green traveling cloak and a long sword hanging on his belt, rode up to the Green Dragon Inn. While he looked like a typical silvan elf, this was not the case. He was originally of the Avari, the elves who had refused the summons to the West long ago. He had relocated to Mirkwood along with the rest of his people, where he had become aquainted with an elven prince named Legolas. He had recently moved to Ithilien with some of his friends, but when he heard strange rumors from the North, he headed for the Green Dragon Inn to learn more.

He dismounted from his tall brown horse and led it around to the stable. When he got back, he noticed a tall, dark haired elf sitting outside. He recognized him from the description he had been given.
"Greetings," he said. "Is your name Ragnorock?"

Dragon Elf odin Ragnorock

08-04-2003, 02:37 PM

SAVE for reworked post

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

Tinuviel of Denton

08-04-2003, 06:05 PM

A tall elf walked into the Inn, swathed in a cloak that hid his body, but especially his left leg. He limped a little, with a slight clopping sound when he put his left leg down; he leaned on a solid oak staff. The hood of his black cloak was down, showing black hair braided in a no-nonsense style and weary grey eyes. His eyes scanned the room, observing several other elves, though none he recognized.

He stumped over to the bar and leaned on the counter, though he did not sit down. It was a bit disconcerting to watch him move, for though most elves are graceful, seeming always to dance, his movements were awkward and stiff.

One of the little hobbit waitresses came up to him, wanting to know what, if anything, he would like to drink and if there would be any food for him this day.

"Wine," he answered. "Dorwinion red, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"I'll see what I can do," she promised, and bustled away.

The elf looked around once more, then shut his eyes. It was a pity that he recognized none of the patrons of the Inn, for company would have been welcome. The faces of dear--and not-so-dear--friends, all d.ead, were pressing very close. As there was no one whom he knew, he would fall back on his secondary plan. Drinking himself into a stupor. It usually worked well enough.

Phrim

08-04-2003, 07:27 PM

Tad Bushytop hungrily eyed the heaping mound of assorted foodstuffs that now sat before him. He had been at the Dragon before, and knew that the food was indeed top-rate; it was reputed to be one of the finest kitchens in all of the Shire. But the portions he received today were beyond generous; he might not be hungry again until dinner, possibly. This meal would certainly be a great start to a delightful trip.

The server Ruby kindly refilled his already-drained mug of ale, tarried for a while, then retreated to another portion of the inn. Completely engrossed with his meal, Bushytop barely took any notice of her until after she left. A thought struck him then. She was lingering and his table for an abnormally long period of time, wasn't she? He thought harder, and was able to recall seeing her expression out of the corner of his eye--a curious look, as if she was expecting something, and yet hesitant at the same time. His curiosity was piqued. Continuing to eat his meal, he scanned to room for signs of the departed server. Sure enough, she was in a distant corner, silently staring at him with a pensive expression. Eye contact was made, and, embarrassed, Ruby looked away quickly.

Bushytop was confused. He thought to himself, "Now what could this be all abou--!!" Suddenly, all thought stopped, as he realized that he couldn't breathe! Apparently he had been paying so much attention to Ruby's odd behavior that he completely neglected that he was chewing food. His expression went blank; he was thinking of everything and nothing all at once. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he vaguely recalled his mother warning him about not letting his mind wander at the dinner table. In his rapidly blurring vision, he saw Ruby, now looking incredibly worried, starting to dash directly at him, and then tripping over an unseen obstacle. He heard a loud crash, and felt the impact of a body on his chest. Next thing he knew, he was lying on ground, covered in his dinner, and... breathing. He was breathing!

"...Mr. Tad?" asked Ruby hesitantly, having gotten up, seemingly unscathed from the incident. "Are you... okay...?"

"I'm... I'm fine," said Bushytop, still in shock over what just happened.

Ruby broke into tears. "I'm so sorry!" she sobbed. "I've ruined everything!"

Bushytop propped himself up with his elbow. Aside from the mess of food on himself and his clothing, he seemed no worse off for all that has happened. "No... m'dear, you just saved my life!"

"I... I..." Ruby stammered, bewildered.

Bushytop got up, and made some feeble attempt to clear the wreckage. "M'dear," he continued, "I am deeply in your debt, not only for the mess I've caused in this unfortunate little accident, but also for the very life I still cling to. For the former I will gladly pay, but as for the latter, if there's anything in my power that this little hobbit can do for you, just name it."

"Well..." started Ruby, looking suddenly shy. "My, uhh, I mean, Buttercup and I were wondering if we, uhh, I mean you could, possibly, maybe, bring us back some of Laureli's wedding cake?" Ruby blushed and looked away.

"Why certainly, m'dear!" said Bushytop jovially. "I'll bring you back a good ol' hunk, they won't mind in the slightest! It's the least I can do."

Later, Bushytop had changed his clothes, had a fresh meal, and settled up with the innkeeper (paying for the damaged dishes, at his insistance). No worse off for his near-death ordeal, he merrily headed for the door, ready for the next leg of his journey, and armed with a new story that he could talk people's ears off when he arrived. As he opened the door, he took one last glance, and saw Ruby smiling at him. He gave her a wink, then headed on his way.

Esgallhugwen

08-04-2003, 08:57 PM

Deciding that she had had enough sleep to keep her through the day she threw on her cloak once more sensing something may be afoot and feeling comfortable veiled anyway. She strode down the stairs in search of Lira, as she came to the counter a loud clatter arose. A Hobbit had fallen over spilling food on himself while the server apoligized repeadily.

Esgallhugwen turned aside noticing an elf next to her with weary grey eyes, she sat by him ordering some cider while he drank his wine. She waited for Lira to notice her after she was done asking the Innkeeper if they both could assist if ruffians came about.

Imladris

08-04-2003, 10:11 PM

Aman glanced up, surprised, and said, "I am sorry, but your services are needed as of yet. Thank you for asking."

Lira smiled at her and bowed. She rather liked the inn-keeper and thought her rather pretty. She drifted from the kitchen and glanced about her. Many more people had wandered in and Lira suddenly felt rather lonely. Most people had a tragic tale to tell like Esgallhugwen. Some had dark pasts that they preferred not to talk about, also like Esgallhugwen, Lira mused as her blue eyes roved the room. Others had interesting tales to tell of their roving lives, tales of horrific battle, of leering orcs, of intrigue and betrayal and treachery. She was rather uninteresting, she thought with a small laugh. She rather liked it because...well because she was a normal elf, an elf who had lost her secret love to the arrow of an orc. Deep sorrow filled her soul as she remembered him, remembered his fair elven face still and cold, his kind grey eyes closed in the sleep of death, his slender fingers still gripping his bow, the bow from Lothlorien, those fingers that would never strum upon a harp again, his voice that would never sing in fair melody beneath the stars. He had died and he never knew of her love for him so it wasn't as tragic as it could have been, she thought, biting her lip. She remembered running swiftly towards him when he fell, grasping his hand, her tears carressing it, and he asking her to sing to him for her voice brought joy into his heart, like a flower opening in the faint light of day that was covered by the dark clouds of war.

A crash woke her from her muse and staring about her, she saw a hobbit upon the floor, his food over and around him instead of in him and Ruby apologizing profusely. Glancing around the room, she saw the familiar cloaked figure of Esgallhugwen and a smile flashed across her face. Beside her was another elf, weary with sorrow and a long day's journey. A wooden staff stood beside him, a tankard of wine before him. Lira glided over to them, eased herself down beside Esgallhugwen and said, "Greetings, Esgallhugwen. I hope you rested well? Our services are not needed as of yet." Then turning towards the other elf, she said, "I am Lira of Ithilien and this is my friend, Esgallhugwen. What, prey, is your name?"

Tinuviel of Denton

08-04-2003, 10:23 PM

When the little hobbit brought his wine, Reynion drank most of the glass in a single swallow. It burned, but the feeling was welcome. It was a feeling, that was what counted. It was also a feeling that had nothing whatever to do with the faces he couldn't keep from his memory. So many...

He was aware of the eyes of others on him, watching him quaff this wine as if it were water. He also didn't care. They could think what they liked of him; it had never bothered him before and it wouldn't start bothering him now. At least most people didn't remark on his astonishing capability to consume liquor.

He especially saw the younger elves tonight. The ones who shouldn't have even been on that ill-fated mission. Even the one who had annoyed the life out of him. It was strange, but d.eath seemed to instantly confer the status of a beloved friend on those one barely tolerates.

He took another drink. This was most definitely not helping. The wine of Dorwinion was usually potent, allowing him to forget for a little. This was a little disappointing. He lifted his glass again, hoping that this would be the one to bring oblivion.

It wasn't.

___________________________________________

A voice interrupted his reverie, saying, "I am Lira of Ithilien and this is my friend, Esgallhugwen. What, pray, is your name?"

He glanced to the side. "Reynion," he answered morosely. He shifted a little, finding it rather uncomfortable to stand so long, but preferring discomfort to the stares and whispers that were sure to come if he sat. He shook his head. No matter his mood, his manners needn't be so rough.

"I crave pardon, Lira, I am not good company just now. I have had too much to drink, early as it may be for such, and have too many memories for pleasant conversation. Pray, tell me more of yourself." He hoped that would be enough to salve any wounded feelings.

[ August 05, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

piosenniel

08-05-2003, 01:43 AM

Green Dragon Inn Facts:

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne.

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 late afternoon of a pleasant mid-summer day in the Shire.

_____________________________________________

Dyrnwyn, Sword of Flame

08-05-2003, 09:24 AM

Caligon sat in deep thought. He was tired from his journey and wished only to be left alone. He looked burdened with worries and concerns that no man his age should have yet to carry. Quite suddenly someone began speaking to him. He looked up, but found it hard to focus his mind and his sight on the person. Finally, he saw that it was a young woman.

After guessing correctly that he was from Minas Tirith, she asked, "Perhaps, if you do not mind my intrusion, you would give me news of that region?" Caligon did, in fact, mind the intrusion. He looked at the girl with an expression of both aggravation and confusion.She wants me to tell her news from Minas Tirith? I have not the energy, thought Caligon, not wanting to relate so much news to the girl. She must have read his thoughts, for she spoke again, "My father... I want... I wish news about my father. His name is Eodane. He is a delegate to Minas Tirith from Rohan. Do you know him? Is he in good health?"

Caligon allowed himself a little smile. He was quiet relieved. "Indeed, I know of your father, though I do not know him personally. He was in the City when last I was there, some two weeks ago. And as far as I know, in fine health." After hearing the news the girl was very relieved. Caligon allowed himself another little smile. Noticing the young girl was still standing, he asked her to sit, and after doing so, Caligon inquired as to her name. "It's Laurie," she told him. "My name is Laurie."

She was quite beautiful, and something about her touched Caligon deeply. Something stirred deep in his soul. It was such a subtle thing, however, that he hardly noticed it at all. It was more of a thought, a feeling in the depths of his heart, or an idea in the back of his mind.

[ August 05, 2003: Message edited by: Dyrnwyn, Sword of Flame ]

Beren87

08-05-2003, 09:55 AM

Beren meandered through the garden of the inn, idly pulling weeds out of the illkept garden. Sure, he wasn't really supposed to start until the next morn', but he sure didn't have anywhere else to be. He continued through the straight rows, reaching the fence surrounding. The corral could easily be seen from the corner, it's horses running freely inside.

He leaned upon the fence with one arm, propping himself up to watch Derufin at work with the horses, brushing their manes. Suddenly remembering his talking with the cook earlier in the day, he opened the gate to the garden, walking over to the corral's fence, hoping to attract Derufin's attention with his presence. Derufin, however, seemed quite lost in his own thought, not even looking up to the sound of the crashing gate door.

"Oy, Derufin!" Beren called out, his hands cupped over his mouth. "I'll need to speak with ye when you're done there! It's about that extra room in your stables!"

Derufin nodded in Beren's direction, an obvious gesture of acknowledgement. Taking this as evidence that he should wait, Beren went back to the garden, further examining the tool shed, and the equipment he would be encountering tommorrow.

Chathol-linn

08-05-2003, 10:45 AM

“Thank you, Talia. That is a good idea, to look for Derufin. But I do not know where he went. Perhaps we should ask the Innkeeper? I have heard her name is Aman. She would be in the common room, I think. If I were her, I would want to know about that necklace .”

Just then they heard a shout; it was some fellow calling Derufin’s name. Talia and Willofain looked around and saw a man standing near the tool shed. “Why, there is that man that I followed from Bree! He is the one whom Orcs set upon. He fought them off until one fled and then he fled himself. I do not know his name. – Did you say you are from Gondor? He speaks just as you do. And he seems to be calling for Derufin. What shall we do?”

Imladris

08-05-2003, 11:22 AM

Lira smiled at him gently, hoping to raise him out of his evident despondancy and said, "Reynion, you need not crave parden from me. I was born in Greenwood, but I travelled often to other elven lands, especially Lothlorien. The Elves there tought me much: herblore, tracking, but they mostly told me their history. I was at Rivendell when the Nine Companions set out and shortly after that I journeyed back to Mirkwood. All was dark when I returned and fear and sadness had settled over our fair realm. Then the attacks came and many fell. After the War, I came to Ithilien, for Prince Legolas had a colony there. I was going to go to the Grey Havens, but I decided to tarry here instead."

Lira glanced at Reynion. He was sad...most elves were sad these days. A dark tale and grievous times haunted their memories. She wondered why those Elves did not leave for the Valinor where maybe their grief would be somewhat appeased.

Opal Wren

08-05-2003, 01:22 PM

"Well, perhaps it would be a good idea if we followed him some more," Talia said, grinning. "Although it would be helpful if we knew his name."

She walked up to the man. "Good afternoon. My friend here followed you from Bree, I don't know if you knew or not. Also, as it happens, we're looking for Derufin too; we must talk to him about something very important."

-Talia Forthbound-

Orofaniel

08-05-2003, 02:36 PM

Orofaniel had just entered the Green Dragon Inn. It was very cosy and the atmosphere was merry. Hobbits, humans, eleves and dwarves were sitting at small tables with pints of ale, and food. They were eating, chatting and laughing.

Orofaniel got to the desk and asked if there was a room for the night. "I'm so tired, do you think there is a room here for the night?," she asked tired.

"Of course there is a room for you," said the woman and handed her a key.

"Thank you, and have a pleasent evening," Orofaniel said to the woman.

"You too, dear." The woman said as Orofaniel walked over to a table. She wanted to have a quick bite before going to bed.

As soon as she had seated she gave a small sign to the servant. "So, what can I offer you, my dear elf?" The hobbit asked?

"Oh, I just want a pint of ale, and some food, thank you." Orofaniel replied while looking at the hobbit.

Tinuviel of Denton

08-05-2003, 02:38 PM

Reynion managed a weak smile. "Greenwood did you say? How odd. I hail from Greenwood myself. I wonder that I didn't recognize you." Well, perhaps it was not so odd. He'd always kept to himself, even before the mission that had cost him his leg.

He winced. Better stop that train of thought before he followed it through to conclusion. Thoughts of that mission always made him want to drink. It had started out all right, but toward the end...things had gotten very bad.

He missed the woods. They had always been his safe-haven, away from the demands of his father and the censure of his peers. He had never really wanted to leave, but the growing numbers of spiders had forced him to the 'civilized' areas of the wood, and his father had done the rest. Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn't have been better if he'd been one of the ones left behind.

Esgallhugwen

08-05-2003, 03:53 PM

Esgallhugwen shifted slightly on the stool her bow clad once more to her back. She sipped on the cider, grey eyes sparkling in the dark of her hood as Lira told her story once more to Reynion as she had to her the other night.

They both hailed from Greenwood, but had to go away for one reason or another. Esgallhugwen had never been outside her own village before treachery came about in that land. She clenched her teeth slamming back the rest of the cider.

Esgallhugwen would not succumb to the emotion again, especially in such company of Hobbits, Dwarves, Men, and other Elves.

Why do you continue to plague me foul dreams... have I not suffered enough with the reality of it! Is there still vengence to be sought? I think not, all perished that night, am I to be like the Rangers who remain hidden in shadows but deal out justice to the orc kind?

She actually smiled slightly at the thought of it, that was the life she perhaps should take ... and maybe she could bring Lira a sense of adventure. Esgallhugwen sat silent between the two Elves, listening intently to the sounds around her.

[ August 05, 2003: Message edited by: Esgallhugwen ]

theWhiteLady

08-05-2003, 06:28 PM

Laurie sat for a moment, looking at the man before her, uncertain whether or not to continue their conversation. His eyes were tired, but for a moment they had sparked with annoyance; she could easily imagine how they might flash with anger should she press her presence upon him. To her surprise and relief, however, he smiled and extended his hand. “My own name is Caligon and I am a captain in the White City.”

Before she had a chance to speak or raise her own hand in greeting, they were interrupted by a large crash. Twisting in her chair, Laurie was greeted with a strange sight: a very disheveled hobbit covered in what looked like the remnant of his meal, his chair fallen next to a broken mug, and beside it a red-faced server was picking herself up from the floor. Neither seemed injured, just a bit shocked, and Laurie looked quickly at her companion, wondering what he must think.

“Strange place, this,” he commented dryly, turning back around. “Strange, perhaps, but most certainly the best inn for miles around,” the young woman spoke defensively. “I suppose one could call it a crossroads for travelers. Each person who stops here has a tale and each story is as various and beautiful as the leaves upon a tree.” Laurie paused before adding quietly, “Most are sad.”

The two sat for a moment in silence, listening to the murmur of conversation that surrounded them. It had a warm sound, low but reassuring, and occasionally accented by laughter. Laurie closed her eyes, enjoying the peace and companionship found within its tone, and allowed her thoughts to roam for a moment. She was too timid to ask now, but later she would most certainly have to inquire after Caligon’s story. What business did a captain have in the Shire, anyway? It might prove very interesting indeed, if he would but trust her enough to open up.

Caligon’s voice broke through these musings briskly. “Do you know where I could inquire about a room?”

Laurie opened her eyes, a bit startled, and replied, “I am not sure, but that young hobbit-lass who, er, was helping that other hobbit would be sure to know.”

“Thank you,” Caligon rose and bowed to his companion. “It was a pleasure, but now I must seek rest.”

Laurie rose as well, smoothing the folds in her white dress and tucking a stray strand of golden hair behind her ears. “I wish you a peaceful and refreshing sleep then. Perhaps we may speak later and you can give me more tidings of Gondor?”

“Perhaps,” Caligon replied, his smile fading slightly. He bowed his head once more and started to walk between the tables toward the kitchen. Laurie sat back down, watching him retreat across the room. Her gaze was drawn away, however, by a feeling that there was something just a tad bit out of place in the picture before her. It struck her only after a minute’s close scrutiny: the inn itself had not changed, as she had first thought, but there were now very many elves gathered at the bar and nearby tables.

‘How strange!’ the young woman thought. ‘And in the Shire!’ Her eyes could not help but watch their graceful movements and her ears strained to catch their musical voices. The legends of elves, and their deeds, never failed to fascinate her and Laurie lost herself in wonder as she gazed into their ageless faces.

[ August 06, 2003: Message edited by: theWhiteLady ]

Dyrnwyn, Sword of Flame

08-05-2003, 09:24 PM

Caligon left the table, and walked toward the Hobbit-lass that Laurie had pointed out to him. However she, and the other Hobbit fellow in the floor with her, seemed to be quite concerned with some other matter, so he decided not to bother them.

He made for the kitchen with a backward glance at the table in which he had been sitting only moments ago, and at the girl who sat there still. He felt a strange saddness at leaving her, and wanted to go back, but he was too tired to go back, and indeed he didn't want to tell her he'd changed his mind after making it up to retire for some rest. He shrugged off the feeling, and continued on to the kitchen.

He poked his head inside the door, but as he did so he thought that asking one of the cooks where he could find a room may not be practical. They'd be busy preparing the food,he thought,and wouldn't want to concern themsleves with me.

He looked back at the Hobbit waitress he was originally told to speak to. She was getting up off the floor and the Hobbit with food all over him was leaving. Caligon walked over to her, looked down, and said, "Excuse me." She looked at him, strangly at first, then smiled. "Yes," she said, "How can I be of assistance?" Caligon smiled back. "I'm from Minas Tirith, and new in the Shire. Could you please show me where I can get a room for tonight?"

[ August 05, 2003: Message edited by: Dyrnwyn, Sword of Flame ]

Esgallhugwen

08-05-2003, 09:36 PM

Esgallhugwen turned to face Lira 'they are not in need of our services as of yet perhaps because the ruffians were scattered away by the Gondorian man they call Beren, for now; but something draws near, and for all it's worth it may be the ruffians again but they may not be the orcs or goblins that we are percieving them to be' Lira looked a little saddened at Esgallhugwen's news.

She lowered her voice so that at least no mortal ear could hear though she couldn't be sure of the other Elves including Reynion, who sat beside her consumed with the tankard in front of him. 'I fear that I too may be part in this shire talk, for last night I passed through Bree much like a horrible wraith or so I read from the many drunk mind's of men at the Prancing Pony' she took a breath looking round at the comings and goings of the inn.

'In the dim light of that place my cloak looked as if it were black and Morsereg was a fearful beast to look upon, I did not concern myself with this for I did not want to be halted or questioned, now though I find a friend in you and I feel you should know incase something falls upon you that is my doing' Esgallhugwen looked at Lira her grey eyes glinted slightly with the afternoon sun.

RoA_Gil-Galad

08-06-2003, 05:07 AM

Morlathion strolls calmly into the Shire, muttering to himself about all the worries and troubles of this age. He is looking for an inn where he may recieve food and lodging while he rests his tired feet.

His eyes soon spot the Green Dragon Inn, and it appears to be crowded, so it can't be that bad. He stroll towards the door but doesn't enter that way. Instead, he enters by falling through a window.

"Stupid rocks... Stupid window..." And he begins cursing them even more vilely under his breath. He returns to his feet and begins brushing off all the glass off his clothes. He turns around, but with all the commotion, nobody appears to have noticed his unusual entrance.

"May I help you, sir?" inquires a voice from behind him, and he jumps, startled. He quickly turns to a small hobbit lass standing next to him.

"Oh, yes, um, terribly sorry about the window. I am quite clumsy, even though I am an Elf. Don't know how I ever survived my archery training. Oh, yes. The window. Now, um, I am willing to replace the window if you give me a reasonable price. And I also require food and lodging for about a week."

"I'll talk to Vinca about the window. Now, over here for your dinner please..." as she leads him over to a table already occupied by two small hobbits. "Now, what would you like for dinner?"

"Um, anything green. And I'll have an ale."

He turns to face the two hobbits facing across from him, one of whom is gazing at him.

"Um, hello. I'm Morlathion. I'm an Elf from Rivendell." He extends his hand across the table to shake, but accidentally knocks over a cup of ale that was obviously left there by the previous guest.

"Oops. Sorry about that..." He starts quickly to clean it up.

Envinyatar

08-06-2003, 09:33 AM

Derufin bent to the task of repairing one of the lower rails of the corral, the third this month. A fractious horse had come down hard on it earlier in the day, before the owner could get it under control. Another one of the Big Folk horses not schooled to being handled by any other than his owner. ‘Perhaps I should put up a sign,’ he muttered to himself, ‘not that it would do any good.’ He envisioned the announcement nailed to a post as the riders entered the path up to the Inn: “Untrained horses to be tied at the picket line on the edge of the yard only.” Not that it would do a bit of good. Owners of such horses were not ones to take note of such announcements, and if they did, were usually of the opinion it did not apply to them.

Done! He stepped back to admire his handiwork. Two of the Shire ponies dropped there heads over the new rail and snorted as if in approval. ‘Right, then, lads, I’m done here. I’ll see to you later.’ The two stamped their hooves, and one shook his head at the man. Smiling, he reached into his vest pocket and fished out a couple of small apples he kept just for this purpose.

He heard his name called, just as he handed the apples to the waiting ponies. "Oy, Derufin! l need to speak with ye when you're done there! It's about that extra room in your stables!" Derufin nodded to Beren, and watched as the other man wandered back to the garden.

An hour later and one of the horses seen to about two new shoes, Derufin washed his hands at the pump and went in search of Beren.

Esgallhugwen

08-06-2003, 01:46 PM

Esgallhugwen and Lira turned quickly at the sound of glass breaking. An Elf just came through a window, why he didn't use the door was most curious. When he sat he had spilled a mug of ale.

Quite clumsy but the two Elf friends could not but stare at him trying to lift up their spirits and get along with the merry folk. For Lira that would be no problem, Esgallhugwen was an entirely different story, whose lack of trust and shadowed figure struck a dark cord among many of the tenants.

She smiled lightly at the Elf though he wouldn't have known due to her dark green hood covering her pale face. Lira giggled slightly her blue eyes shining with joy. He apoligized as he quickly cleaned up the mess before him; the Hobbits being a bit annoyed by the clumsy presence of the good natured Elf.

Imladris

08-06-2003, 03:06 PM

Lira tried to stifle her giggle as she watched the elf from Rivendell, whose name apparently was Morlathion. She wondered if she should invite him to their table but wasn't sure if Esgallhugwen and Reynion would like that. Esgallhugwen...what was it she had said, about causing fear in Bree?

She glanced quickly at Esgallhugwen and whispered, "What dark past are you hiding?" She stared at her and pleaded with her blue eyes that she answer her question.

Esgallhugwen

08-06-2003, 03:56 PM

Esgallhugwen's will and power was strong but she could not withstand the blue pleading eyes of her new friend Lira. 'I have done no fault in Bree but perhaps word has gotten out over the short years of what became of my village' she stopped short smelling something in the air.

'Darkness was there that is of the most trecherous and foul until the fire, but enough of that the word of ruffians about may be in part because of me and my presence among this land unsettles many; as it seems to me from the actions of others'.

Esgallhugwen could hear the neighing of the horses in the corral over the bustle of the inn. 'For now you see me cloaked once more, saving people from my gaze in case it brings upon them sorrow and the utmost grief or even fear, for which I did not care of sooner in the day when I was uncloaked as little if any were awake' She looked back over to the clumsy Elf Morlathion, Esgallhugwen stood asking Lira if she had wished to go over to him so he would not be alone with the little people, if he welcomed their company.

They bid Reynion farewell and perhaps that they should speak again if he so wished. Lira walked ahead with Esgallhugwen close behind in shadows.

Arestevana

08-06-2003, 05:40 PM

He rode into the forest, avoiding the first few trees and ignoring the slight rain that fell around him. His horse was moving quickly, but he was forced to slow as the trees became thicker and the woods grew dark. The rain fell harder, threatening to hamper his sight further. They were now moving very slowly, horse and rider, and were once again restrained from a faster pace as clouds began to scurry across the moon. The wind picked up, hurling the rain in all directions, drenching man and animal alike. The rain fell faster, harder, and thunder rolled across the sky. Now it was storming. The wind whipped through the trees; stripping branches, shredding leaves, snapping stems made brittle with an early frost. He rode on, through sheets of blinding, drenching rain. His mount reared as lightning struck a tree nearby, and he fell to the ground. lunging forward, he tried to catch the horse, but only succeeded in frightening in further. The animal took of, leaving him alone and with no idea where he was.

Randir rolled over in his sleep, but did not wake up.

A figure approached, almost invisible in the heavy rain. A woman on horseback. Megilien. He tried to stand, felt pain shoot through his bleeding leg, knew it was broken. The rider came closer, closer. She reined in her horse and stared down at him, seemingly untouched by the rain. He watched her face, rivers of rain water streaming down his own. She knew, and she would make him pay. Swinging down from the horse, the woman drew her sword. He closed his eyes, waiting for a sweeping blow to end his life. The sound of steel meeting bone never came, but a small moan escaped the man's lips as the blade slid between his ribs with deadly silence.

Randir woke with a start to find that he was tangled so thoroughly in his blankets that he could hardly move. Remembering his dream, Randir shivered, wondering how it was possible to feel so cold on such a warm afternoon. In a sudden surge of panic, he drew his sword and cut himself loose. Immediately feeling quite foolish, he sheathed his sword and looked out the window.

It was late afternoon, nearing evening. Randir knew he had slept for only a few hours, but he felt much better for it, and knew he should be off again. It would not be safe to stay in one place until the trail grew cold. Or until that elven lady quit following him. Randir shivered again. Then he shook his head, tried one last time to forget the dream entirely, and, on losing, went downstairs to see to the growing complaints of his stomach.

Several minutes later, Randir was seated at an empty table with a tall mug and a bowl of soup. It was good food, and he was very hungry, so the man finished it off in a matter of minutes. Handing the bowl to a hobbit lass who came to collect it, Randir turned to his mug. He took a long drink, briefly aware that someone had joined his table. Setting down his mug and glancing up, Randir was hard pressed to avoid choking. It was Megilien, and she looked extremely irritated. He immediately looked back at the table, pretending he hadn't seen her. The elf said something short and clipped in a language that definitely wasn't Westron. It was most likely high-elven, and, while it didn't sound like she was cursing, it didn't sound very polite. However, since he didn't know what she was saying, he thought it made quite a lot of sense to ignore her. Megilien spoke again, this time in Westron, and now it sounded rather a lot like she was cursing. Since Randir knew it would be both rude and childish to simply walk away, he added a polite "Good Evening, Miss" before doing so.

Elentarimir

08-06-2003, 05:48 PM

Megilien lurked around the room while Randir slept. She knew he could not avoid her forever, and she also knew that she would make sure she was still here when he came back out.

When Randir finally appeared in the room, Megilien watched him. She muttered "You scum," under her breath; she was beginning to realize who she had in front of her. When he didn't react, she realized that she had spoken in Quenya, not Westron. She switched tongues quickly, and muttered a curse under her breath for being to stupid to think he might know the High-Tongue.

Randir noticed her. He nodded politely and gave her a quick "Good afternoon Miss" the tried to dodge her. "Oh, no you don't!" she told him, and quickly stepped in front of him. "You don't get away from me so easily. I want to know your business, and I won't stop until I find out!"

piosenniel

08-06-2003, 06:02 PM

Buttercup was disgruntled that Falco had left without a word to her, though it helped a little that he had not said farewell to Ruby, either. Perhaps when old Mr. Bushytop returned from Laureli’s wedding with a slice of cake for her, she would have sweet dreams with Falco as the principal figure in them. Her thoughts drifted of down these pleasant avenues when she heard the voice of someone speaking to her.

She blinked her eyes a bit to drive away the conjured visions and looked up at one of the Big Folk, looming over her. ‘What a tired face, he has,’ she thought to herself. ‘Must have come a long hard way to the Inn.’ Her eyes took in his thin leather breastplate and the sword that hung in scabbard at his belt. ‘A warrior . . . like Derufin,’ she murmured, recalling something the Stable-master had once said to her when she asked him what he had done before coming to the Green Dragon. ‘I was a warrior, little Mistress,’ he had said, a faraway look in his eyes, ‘with no enemies now to battle save my memories.’

He introduced himself as Caligon, and inquired after a room for the night, saying he was new in the Shire. She had him sign the Guestbook, and took his three copper pennies. ‘Follow me, if you will, good sir,’ she said, taking a key from behind the counter. ‘Just up the stairs here are the Big Folk rooms. I have one that faces east or one that faces west – which do you prefer?’

piosenniel

08-06-2003, 06:23 PM

Cook was not pleased to be interrupted by one of the servers and asked to go out to the Common Room. She was in the midst of supper preparations when the serving lass had come in telling her one of the Fair Folk had fallen through the Inn window and then managed to knock over a pint of ale on another customer’s table. ‘A Clumsy Elf?’ she snorted. Why today of all days, had such a one felt compelled to come to the Inn. The Innkeeper was gone for the day. Derufin was distracted, Ruby and Buttercup were still mooning over that Falco fellow – that left her to deal with daily bumps in the routine of the Inn that came up.

‘He wants something green to eat, you say?’ she asked, washing her hands, then wiping them on her apron. ‘Was he anymore specific than that?’ The server shook her head ‘no’. ‘Right, then – let’s go out and see to this Elf.’

She sailed through the kitchen door and into the Common Room, the server following close behind. Ruby, she saw, was cleaning up the glass with a broom and dustpan, and two of the locals had engaged the Elf in conversation as he sat at their table. They clutched their tankards firmly in their hands, as his hands gestured wildly, illustrating some point.

‘Morlathion, is it?!’ Cook asked, coming to stand beside him. She looked him up and down. ‘Vinca Bunce, here. I’m the Cook at the Inn. I understand you’ll be wanting lodging for a week – that will be a silver penny, by the way. And Ruby over there with the broom will see to getting your key and showing you to your room.’ Ruby nodded at him, saying she would bring the guest book for him to sign. ‘Our handyman, Derufin, can fix the window – you’ll have to square the cost with him. You’ll find he’s a fair man, I think.’

‘Now – about that “something green to eat” you requested. Supper will be out in an hour. There’s a cassoulet of green summer squash sliced thin and cooked with butter and dill and green onions. Is that what you’re meaning?’

She folded her arms across her chest, awaiting his answer . . .

Dyrnwyn, Sword of Flame

08-06-2003, 07:17 PM

The Hobbit woman took Caligon to the counter and, after paying her three copper pieces, had him sign the guest book. She then took him up the stairs to the 'Big Folk' rooms and asked him if he prefered a room facing East, or a room facing West.

"I'd prefer an Eastern view, good madame. I always enjoy watching the Sun rise in the morning." She gave him a bit of a queer look. "I, uh... I awake early," he said. "East room it is, then," she said, and unlocked the door.

They both walked inside, and Caligon unbuckled his sword belt. He lay the sword and belt on a chair against the wall by the door. "Do you have any other luggage, sir?" the Hobbit-lass asked. "Er, yes... I do. It's in the stables with my horse. It'll be fine there for now. I'll go and retrieve it later. Thank you very much," Caligon said, with a polite little smile. He was much too tired to go and get his things just then, and didn't want to be a bother to anyone.

"Alright then, good sir. My name is Buttercup. If you need anything, just come down stairs," said she, with a smile. Buttercup then handed Caligon the key, and walked out of the room shutting the door behind her.

Caligon removed his breast-plate and his shirt-linens, and lied down on the bed. In mere moments he drifted into unconciousness.

RoA_Gil-Galad

08-06-2003, 10:17 PM

Morlathion looked around confusedly. He wasn't the greatest about talking to somebody who's property that he had just destroyed.

"Um, yes, here you go... A silver penny!" He said while fumbling around in his pocket. "And where may I find this handyman? Oh, and that meal will do as long as there's no meat in it. Now, if you will please excuse me, I am off to go find that handyman."

He rises from his chair, not intent on finding Derufin, but on meeting a pair of Elves that seemed to be meandering towards him. He started off in their direction only to catch his foot on a chair and fall halfway to them.

He muttered some curses in Quenya as he rose to his feet and dusted himself off. He looked around and found that he had lost track of the other Elves. In fact, he had just turned around and had his back to them.

Ancalagon_the_Black

08-07-2003, 05:52 AM

A dark figure slipped up the path to the Inn door. A hand reached out and opened the door. The figure slipped into and shut the door behind it. It then slid into a dark corner and seated itself at a table. A hobbit server noticed him and cautiously made his way over.

The figure proved to be a man. This fellow was wearing a think green cloak clasped at the throat by a polished silver brooch. Beneath the cloak he openly wore a tattered leather jerkin, fastened up. Bronze, rusted chain mail peeked out and fell to his elbows. Under the mail he wore a blue, water-stained shirt. A brown leather belt spanned his waist and supported a muddy sheath. He wore a black pair of leggings and high black boots, old and worn.

He also had shoulder length brown hair covered by a hood. Green eyes peered from under his mass of hair. His face sported no beard. The only distinguishing mark about him was a long purple scar that ran from the center of his forehead to his ear.

This hobbit, after surveying his visitor, said, "How may I help you, Mr...?"

"Kavekh. I am Kavekh."

Tinuviel of Denton

08-07-2003, 09:15 AM

Reynion sighed as he looked around and the fact that Lira and Esgallhugwen had left finally registered. He supposed that his company was not the brightest. Not the brightest, Reynion?, he asked himself sardonically. You know very well that if it were possible, you'd leave your own company in this mood.

It was a vicious cycle. He had left Greenwood--no, it was Mirkwood now--because there were too many memories there. Not to mention his reluctance to live solely on the charity of his father. He would travel for a while, and the memories would fade a bit. Then he'd wake up some morning in a cold sweat, the last moments of his friends playing over and over in his mind. That's when he'd discovered the solace in wine. Before, he'd drunk no more than was necessary for courtesy, but when the nightmares began to grow worse and worse, he got drunk one night through a well-meaning bartender. The hangover had kept him from thinking about the d.ead for more than a day and the nightmares didn't come back for almost a month. He thought he'd found the answer to his problem...until the nightmares came back, worse than before. So he got drunk again. And again. And again.

He rubbed his temples. All this was not doing any good, neither for his memories, or for his mood. Not to mention the impossible pain in his left leg. He paid for his drinks, and pushed away from the bar, a bit unsteadily. He turned, planning to go outside and see if the air would clear his head, but tripped over Morlathion and fell sprawling on the floor. His staff went one way, his left leg another. His wooden left leg.

Reynion sat up, cursing, and scrabbled for his two supports. The other elf tried to help, but Reynion waved him away, furious with his own clumsiness and with the leg for not staying on. He reached for the staff at the same time as the other elf, and their heads smacked into each other. This did not improve Reynion's mood. Still cursing, he managed to pull his leg to him and stand up with the help of a nearby stool.

Arestevana

08-07-2003, 09:46 AM

Randir heard her curse, try as she might to disguise it. He realized it was directed toward herself, in irritation, rather than toward him. 'Probably for letting me get away' he thought, as he brushed her aside with a light greeting and did his best to escape.

"Oh, no you don't!" Randir sighed; caught again. Megilien wasn't finished with him, it seemed. "You don't get away from me so easily. I want to know your business, and I won't stop until I find out!" Randir frowned at her and touched his sword hilt, hoping she could be frightened into leaving him alone. She wasn't, choosing rather to rattle off several more sharp phrases in that Quenya of hers. Though he didn't speak Quenya, Randir knew the Grey-Elven speech well enough, and decided it would serve to frame his comments. He was agreeing, if not politely, with her, genially adding something about stubborn elves. Megilien reverted to Westron, furious with him.

"Stubborn?" she asked, her voice quiet and horribly cold. "I have asked you your business and you will not tell me the truth. Again and again I ask, and still you avoid me. Stubborn? Yes. And I will remain so."

Randir glared at her, hardly able to keep his voice down. "But why must you ask? Is it of such importance to you that no traveler walk between the wilderlands and the sea unless you know why he walks? Or," he asked, his voice dropping to match hers, "Is it that you fears to return to Ithilen empty-handed, knowing you have failed your quest?"

Megilien's face, already elven-pale, went white. She said nothing, and Randir, hoping she was momentarily shocked into stillness, ducked around her and left the inn. As soon as he had cleared the doors he began to run, reaching the stables just as Megilien appeared in the doorway. He was pleased to have surprised her so, but, he realized, it was more that she had not expected him to admit the truth than not knowing at all. That she knew, he had no doubts. It was what she knew that worried him.

Ducking into the stable, Randir made straight for his horse. He threw open the gate to Hara's stall and began wrestling with her saddle blanket, knowing he would do better not to hurry, but unable to slow himself. He had just finished saddling his horse when Megilien caught up, standing in the doorway looking perfectly calm and not as if he had done anything unexpected. Randir winced, loooked up, and with a failing attempt tried to match her expression. Warily he asked "What do you want?"

Esgallhugwen

08-07-2003, 12:49 PM

Just as Lira and Esgallhugwen were in close proximity with Morlathion he had tripped over his seat and if that wasn't enough Reynion had gotten caught up in the fall as well and was now on the ground cursing. His wooden leg flew out from under him. Lira gasped a little shocked but Esgallhugwen seemed unphased by the occurence.

While Morlathion tried to help Reynion their heads smacked against eachother, sending both into further curses and annoyance with their own clumsiness. Lira went over to Reynion as he pulled himself up on a stool, he tried to wave her away but she insisted on helping him and that it would be no trouble for her to do so, Esgallhugwen reached out her hand in helping the clumsy Elf back to his feet.

'You may get in much trouble here if you do not have others to watch out for you' Esgallhugwen said with an Elvish lilt in her low voice. She stood before him waiting for a reply while Lira continued to fuss over Reynion.

Tinuviel of Denton

08-07-2003, 02:29 PM

Almost helplessly, Reynion allowed Lira to assist him onto a stool. He sighed. What was it about having a wooden leg that made women of all races suddenly want to treat him as a child. It didn't help that most of the room was staring at them, nor that his head was ringing from the unintentional blow from Morlathion.

He took his leg from her, not without a protest on her part, and began to refasten it. The straps were not cooperating, and his fingers weren't either. He almost cursed, but decided that he'd done enough of that, thank you, this afternoon. Not to mention that it would only draw more attention. It was one thing when people disliked him, but another to be stared at, as though he were a creature in a menagerie.

"Can I help you with that?" asked Lira, concerned that he couldn't handle it, no doubt.

"I think I can get it," he replied absently and tugged at another piece of the leather. Finally, it was starting to fit together and with a last pull, the leather cup snugged tight against what was left of his thigh.

Novnarwen

08-07-2003, 03:35 PM

A few hours had passed when finally the rich little hobbit sat down. Drunk, but still rich he seated himself at the end of a table. Stirru and Folw who had waited for this for a long time, both smiled and Stirru made his first move. He paced towards the hobbit, sat himself down and waited.

The hobbit turned his head, checking out the new man who had seated himself so close to him, the hobbit felt uncomfortable. "Watch yourself, silly," the hobbit snapped, sipping his ale. The little fellow had drunk far too many of them and seemed to be in another 'world'. Stirru gazed at him, trying to figure out an insult. "Well, little one. You have a big mouth for being so small," he said pointing at him. The hobbit grew angry and turned his head again.

From the corner of Stirru's eyes he could see his companion smiling in the dark. At the same time Stirru held his eyes on the money in the hobbit's pocket. They lay there so nicely, waiting to get picked up by a man like Stirru. He looked at the mug standing at the table. "I am not going to sit here, waiting to get insults right into my face from a... a..... STRANGER!" he cried out making a jump at the bench. Stirru made his final move. He made his finger small and when the hobbit rose he seized his pocket gently. A couple of coins rolled into his hand and he closed it making a small poke into the hobbit's chest.

"Yeah, just go. It's not like I enjoyed your company either," he snapped looking at the hobbit making his way to another table. Stirru slid the coins into his pocket, time to get a room, he thought.

Elentarimir

08-07-2003, 04:01 PM

"What do you want?" Randir asked. The terror in his voice was only slightly masked, and Megilien could see right through it. She threw back her head and laughed. It wasn't the type of laugh that you would hear at a joke, but a shrill, high, cold laugh, the laugh of someone who knows that the person in front of them is half-terrified.

"What do you want?" Megilien imitated in a babyish voice. "Oh, since you've guessed my business already, then you know what I want." She stepped forward and laid a hand on her sword hilt, scaring him further. "I want you to come back to Ithilien with me, and I'm not taking 'no' for an answer!"

Randir made to spurr his horse out of the cell, but Megilien grabbed the horse's head. All Elves had a way with horses, and Megilien was no exception. It halted, and would not move. Megilien grinned wickedly up at Randir. He had revealed himself for certain with that comment about Ithilien, for this mission was top secret business.

But Randir gave no sign of coming quietly. "Stubborn indeed," Megilien muttered in Quenya under her breath. "Very well," she added to the man, switching back to Westron, "if you willing not come on your own free will, my Lord Faramir has given permission to use force."

Randir blanched. Megilien watched his face contort with fear, and allowed herself an evil smile. She moved her swordarm to the hilt, and prepared to draw, as she took a half step forward. The horse whinnied and shied back, but didn't move towards Megilien, as she advanced on Randir. "Now," she said quietly, "you'll be coming with me!"

RoA_Gil-Galad

08-07-2003, 04:13 PM

Morlathion turns to speak to the new Elf that approaches him. He could not exactly understand what she meant at first, but then he go it.

"Does this mean that I am likely to be attacked here? I may not seem it, but I'm actually quite good with my sword."

He draws his sword and does a couple moves, but slips on an ice cube and his sword goes flying into the table in front of one of the Hobbit lasses. He blushes madly and goes to retrieve it.

"Oh, um, hi, Ms., uh, Hobbit Lass? Sorry, don't know your name, and you don't seem keen on giving me it, so I'll just take my sword and leave now..." as he backed away slowly. He turns back and returns to the other Elves.

"Sorry about that. Oh yes, my name is Morlathion." He extended his hand to shake.

He turns his head towards the man with the wooden leg. "Oh, yes, sorry again about that, too."

Tinuviel of Denton

08-07-2003, 06:42 PM

Reynion felt like laughing for the first time in months. No, years really. Morlathion was so clumsy and good-natured, it was impossible to dislike him. Even if he'd been the reason that Reyn had ended up on the floor in the first place. Still, his antics almost made him smile.

It was odd. Years ago, he'd have made some sort of cutting remark. Probably something touching on Morlathion's intelligence, if not altogether offensive. That, however, had been before he lost his leg. It seemed unfair to make fun of others, now that he'd had something of a taste of it himself.

The younger elves stared as he passed, watching him limp along the corridor, pointing and giggling. Reynion tried to ignore them. Really, how was it different from the former looks of superiority from the nobles? Like Gilbereth.

He winced away from that thought, and all memories associated with it. This was no time to think of such things, it was a party, a celebration. So why did he feel so miserable?

Reynion shook his head, suddenly realizing that the other elf had said something to him. "I beg pardon, what was that, eh...Morlathion?"

[ August 07, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

Beren87

08-07-2003, 07:26 PM

Derufin slowly came around the south corner of the shed, eyes avidly searching for the figure known as Beren.

Beren glanced to the side, noticing the comer into his garden. He had been tapping new six-pennys into the side of the shed, hoping that they would help to slow the onset of time.

Rising from his kneeled position, Beren looked onto Derufin, one hand over his eyes to shade the delicate appendages from the sun. He leaned the hammer up against the wall, leaving himself a mental note to pick it up before going inside. The clouds looked ominous in the distance, their dark forms threatening rain upon the Inn.

"So then, what was that about my room?" inquired the stablehand, an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"I was just wondering if you still needed a roomate, of sorts. It'd be a slight cheaper then renting an room at the Inn, if I'm to settle here. So, is the offer so open?" Beren leaned his shoulder against the shed, waiting for Derufin's response.

RoA_Gil-Galad

08-07-2003, 08:09 PM

"I was apologizing about tripping you... I'm deathly clumsy. Shot myself in the hand once with my bow. I don't know how I ever got top marks in archery class. My father fainted when he found out. Let me buy you a drink."

He walks over to the bar and orders an two ales. He returns and hands one to the Elf with the wooden leg and keeps one himself.

"Hope you like ale. Only thing that I could think of. Well, cheers."

He puts the wooden cup up to his mouth but drops it almost immediately. He brings a hand up to his lip, and when he brings it away there is blood on it.

"Damm... Never knew a splinter could be that bad."

He brings a piece of cloth from his pocket up to his lip and starts speaking again, though it is slightly muffled through the fabric.

"I haffn't caught youw names ye. Oops... Sowwy..." He repositions the cloth. "I haven't caught your names yet."

Tinuviel of Denton

08-07-2003, 09:00 PM

Reynion looked at the ale with distaste. It wasn't that he mistrusted the quality of the beverage, it was that he never drank the stuff. Although wine, in his usual amounts, was probably worse for him.

"I haffn't caught youw names ye. Oops... Sowwy..." Morlathion repositioned the cloth. "I haven't caught your names yet."

"I'm Reynion," he answered. "This is Lira and her friend is Esgallhugwen. And you're Morlathion. I think the entire Inn must have heard you earlier." That wasn't too hard. If he could keep the conversation at this level, maybe there would be no need for more wine this eve. He shied away from that thought trend quickly. Then something Morlathion had said registered.

"You shot yourself in the hand with your bow!? How in Arda did you manage to do that?" He'd gotten no few nicks when he was learning his knives, and many bruises learning the sword (not that he could use it anymore anyway), but injuring one's hand seemed rather improbable.

Imladris

08-07-2003, 09:49 PM

Lira scolded herself for offering Reynion help with his wooden leg. Of course he could do it for himself and of course his cursed elvish pride twisted her good natured offer. Ah well.

She and Esgallhugwen followed the two elves as Morlathion offered to buy Reynion some ale. Lira watched them with dancing eyes, and when she heard that Morlathion had shot himself with a bow, she couldn't help but laugh joyously. She wasn't making fun, she wasn't deriding him, but as she pictured it in her mind's eye, it was just so hilariously silly. Tears began to stream down her cheeks and, as she tried to stifle her beautiful laugh, she said, "Forgive me, Morlathion, please forgive me." She clasped her hand to her mouth and glanced at Esgallhugwen, and smiled broadly at her. Catching Esgallhugwen raise her eyebrow in mild amusement sent Lira into another burst of unrefrained laughter.

Clearing her throat and not daring to look at Morlathion for fear she would be sent into gails of elven laughter again, Lira ordered wine for Esgallhugwen and herself and began to sip. After she had composed herself to her normal elvish dignity, she began to stare at Reynion and noticed that he and the clumsy elf were getting along fairly well. She almost giggled in earnest glee as she hoped that the elf and Renyion could become friends.

RoA_Gil-Galad

08-07-2003, 11:43 PM

"Nobody's really figured out how I did it yet. I just drew my bow, released, and suddenly had an arrow in my hand. My entire class was either speechless or they were on the floor, paralyzed with laughter." He takes a sip from a new glass of ale that he had gotten, this one in a class cup."

"So, what brings you to these parts? And what do you think of these adorable little hobbits?"

Morlaithion was surprised that he was making friends this quickly. Normally, when people saw his clumsiness with pretty much everything, they stayed as far away as possible.

piosenniel

08-08-2003, 12:33 AM

Green Dragon Inn Facts:

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne.

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 late afternoon almost evening and supper time of a pleasant mid-summer day in the Shire.

theWhiteLady

08-08-2003, 09:30 AM

A sharp pain throbbing persistently in Laurie's arm forced open a pair of very bleary blue eyes. "Ouch!" she cried, prying her face from the white cloth of her dress. Somehow, her head had ended up cradled in her arm resting on the table and she had fallen asleep with her neck in a very strange position. In fact, she could hardly bend it to the left at all, and her right arm had fallen so deeply asleep that when she whacked her fingers on the table, there was no feeling at all. And though she didn't know it, the right side of her face was crisscrossed with deep lines from where the folds of her dress had pressed into her cheek. Laurie presented a very strange sight indeed, even her normally smooth hair looked rather untidy.

Groggy, and a bit grumpy as one is apt to be when a nap has been cut short, Laurie attempted to stand. The driving thought in her cloudy mind was to find a room in which to finish her nap, but it for some reason, her body didn't seem to be responding properly. Or maybe it was the floor; the stupid thing kept wobbling around! Instead of walking gracefully across the floor, Laurie ended up half-stumbling drunkenly two tables in the wrong direction before tripping over a bar stool and ending up flat on her face.

"Ouch," she managed to groan into the wood, half hoping no one noticed her tumble, but wondering how she was going to get back to her feet without assistance.

Dyrnwyn, Sword of Flame

08-08-2003, 10:26 AM

Caligon awoke rested from his short sleep later in the afternoon. He got up off the bed, and put his shirt and cloak back on, not bothering with his brestplate or sword belt. He decided to go back to the stables and retrieve his other belongings, and so walked out the door of his room, and down the stairs. He wondered what time it was.

At the bottom of the stairs he saw the girl he had met earlier, Laurie, stumble across the lounge, trip over a stool, and fall to the ground. He ran over to her and helped her up. "Are you all right?!? That was a big fall!"

Tinuviel of Denton

08-08-2003, 11:18 AM

"So, what brings you to these parts? And what do you think of these adorable little hobbits?"

A shadow passed over Reynion's face. "I don't believe where I travel is any of your concern," he replied sharply, then silently groaned. And I thought I'd gotten over that sort of response. It was an idle question, Reyn, he scolded himself and schooled his expression into one of bland calm. "I apologize. I don't do well with that sort of question." His tone made it clear that any like it would get much less civil answers.

Reynion sighed. Even after years of traveling and meeting new people, he still had no social skills worth mentioning. Even Tau--no, he would not think of her. That could lead to a return to Green--no, Mirkwood. That life was over, he would not waste time in wishing for it to return. Besides, she had never spoken more than was necessary to him, and after he lost his leg, surely the only thing she would feel when she looked at him would be pity.

Reynion was startled out of his introspection when a tinkle of breaking glass intruded in his thoughts. Morlathion's clumsiness had struck again; the elf had tried to set his glass back onto the bar. Unfortunately, he hadn't been looking and had missed. Reynion pulled back involuntarily to avoid the splash of ale, and almost fell again.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Do you often get chased out of inns, Morlathion?"

[ August 08, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

Envinyatar

08-08-2003, 11:21 AM

‘I was just wondering if you still needed a roomate, of sorts. It'd be a slight cheaper then renting an room at the Inn, if I'm to settle here. So, is the offer so open?’ Beren leaned his shoulder against the shed, waiting for Derufin's response.

‘The offer is open. And for the most part, you may move in at any time.’ He paused and thought for a moment. ‘It’s almost time for the evening meal. Let me just go clear out what little remains of Eodwine’s possessions. Then after supper is done, bring some fresh linens from the Inn for the bed and your gear, and you’ll be set.’ He clasped Beren on the shoulder. ‘Good to have you on board at the Inn!’ A few more casual remarks passed between them and Derufin turned back toward the stable.

The room was orderly. Eodwine had been an orderly person. Derufin removed a few pieces of clothing from the large wooden chest at the end of the bed, leaving it empty for Beren’s use. No other sign of the other man’s occupation of the room remained. Derufin stripped the bed – leaving the thick woolen blanket and the quilt on the top of the chest. He pushed back the curtains and opened the window to the right of the bed to allow in some fresh air. The curtains blew in across the chimney to the oil lamp on the table, nearly knocking it over.

‘Why he wanted it there is beyond reason,’ said to himself. ‘Perhaps he never opened the window. Ah, well. I’ll just move the table to the other side. Wouldn’t care to have the stable burn down from a spilled lamp.’

The table moved, the floor given a perfunctory sweep with the stable broom and Derufin declared the room ready for occupancy. ‘Something’s missing, though,’ he thought, sweeping the room one last time. ‘A chair, of course!’ There were none to spare in the stable, so he put it on his list to tell Beren to ask Aman for one of the spares in the Inn cellar.

The horses nickered at him as he pass, and he spoke gently to each of them. ‘I’ll be back right after my own meal and get you settled in and fed. In the meantime take advantage of the fresh sweet hay I’ve left for you.’

Nettle, the Inn pony, eyed the barrel of tasty oats sitting against the wall just opposite his stall. He stamped his foot and snorted at the man’s passing remark.

Arestevana

08-08-2003, 03:45 PM

"You'll be coming with me!"
Randir winced. Try as he might, he could not help but think of his dream, and found himself wondering if Megilien would kill him when he refused to come. Terror washed over him again. Drawing on the slight power he carried from his mother's line, Randir whispered to his horse, breaking Megilien's control and forcing past her, out into the twilight of near evening.

Coming with her, was he? Randir thought as he rode away from the inn. Going along quietly to Ithilen with an elf whose brother he had killed, to a trial almost certainly leading to his own execution? After a moment's thought he turned South. The shire was no longer safe.

[ August 09, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

piosenniel

08-08-2003, 04:27 PM

A reminder - Rule 6 in The Red Book of Westmarch

All violent behavior/fighting is to be kept out of the Green Dragon Inn, as well as its grounds - save that for the actual RPG's which call for it.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

RoA_Gil-Galad

08-08-2003, 05:57 PM

Morlathion knelt down and began collecting glass shards. There were some bigs one that he could get, and some little ones that would need to be swept up before somebody barefoot stepped on them.

"I meant you no offense, just trying to connect. And no, nobody kicks me out of bars anymore. They used to, but then they realized that I wasn't drunk, that I was just naturally clumsy, and they let me back in. I still can't get anything to lift my spirits though, just water and milk."

He attempts to rise, bangs his head on the table, involuntarily closes his hand tightly, and lets out a yelp of pain. He open his hand and drop the shards on the floor again, but its already too late: his palm has been cut to ribbons. He grabs the cloth that had been covering his lips and shoves it onto his palm.

"I don't suppose any of you are healers? Or do you know of any closeby?"

Tinuviel of Denton

08-08-2003, 06:17 PM

Reynion closed his eyes. Morlathion seemed to have a genius for picking the worst questions. She was a healer, but, hopefully, she was also in Mirkwood, tending to those who needed it. And much as he had begun to like the good-natured Morlathion, if he wasn't careful, there would be another reason to need a healer.

"I'm no healer," Reynion admitted. "But I do know something of cuts and scrapes. Let me see that." He chuckled, surprisingly light-heartedly for the mood he'd been in.

He took Morlathion's hand and began to pick the bits of glass out of the cuts. Morlathion winced a little because Reyn was rather rough about it, but he said nothing. Reynion took some gauze out of his belt-pouch and began to wrap the lacerated palm. It wasn't too bad, just bleeding rather remarkably. A tiny bit of an herb that Tau--that someone had shown him finished the cure.

"There. That should take care of it," Reynion anounced. "You know, I'm surprised that they let you go anywhere alone the way you break things. Ever broken any bones?"

theWhiteLady

08-08-2003, 06:40 PM

"Are you all right?!? That was a big fall!"

Laurie struggled to raise herself off the ground, feeling extremely foolish. It took every bit of the speaker's help to raise the young woman to her feet, her own clumsy attempts doing nothing but hinder their progress. Finally standing, one hand grasping the bar for support, Laurie was able to brush the hair from her eyes in order to see her 'rescuer'. She recognized, with a sinking heart, the young soldier she had spoken with earlier. Oh dear, what must he think of me? she thought exasperated. Probably that I've had too much to drink, was the alarming answer.

"Are you alright?" Caligon repeated, peering anxiously at the the lady before him. "I'm fine, thank you." Laurie replied. "I just need a little fresh air, that's all." She felt horribly foolish and was only looking for an escape, but Caligon insisted on accompaning her outside, obviously afraid that she might take another tumble if left on her own. "Thank you," she mumbled, his kindness making her even more embarassed.

The air seemed fresh, a light wind still blowing softly though it would soon die with the setting sun. The sky was already turning a mellow blue, replacing the sharp glare of earlier with a more gentle, forgiving hue. As he stood watching her, Caligon noticed the sky almost perfectly matched Laurie's eyes. As for Laurie herself, the air had cleared the cobwebs sleep had left to ensnare her but that only made her feel more humiliated. She gazed at the stables without seeing them, searching for something to break the silence, but unable to comment even on the beautiful weather.

RoA_Gil-Galad

08-08-2003, 07:26 PM

"Thanks. I'm so clumsy I'm just as likely to drop my sword as I am to drop my enemy. That actually happened once in combat. And, um, let's see, I don't think I have any bone that I haven't broken. I got stabbed in the chest once, too... Luckily I waass wearing my armor at the time so it wasn't too bad."

He sat down tentatively in a chair, and was surprised that it didn't break. He leaned back and fell over in it.

"Ow... I hate it when I do that. I need to be more careful about these sort of things."

He rises to his feet, rights his chair, and sits in it very safely and firmly, holding on to the table while he sits.

Imladris

08-08-2003, 08:27 PM

Lira watched Reynion and Morlathion from a short distance as she sipped her wine. She had seen Morlathion cut himself and, as she watched Reynion bandage the wound, she remembered that she had lost her own healing herbs as she had travelled from Ithilien. Closing her eyes, she tried to recall how she had lost them: she had had them on the way from Ithilien and when she had visited Minas Tirith. And then a band of wounded men had come in and she had given them to the Hourses of Healing. How could she have forgotten. The men had run into a small band of orcs; unfortunately, the were still a nuisance in Middle-earth. Lira wondered why she had never replenished the precious herbs; it was strange, she did not normally forget to do such things. As she pondered the events before she arrived at the Shire, she remembered that she had been warned to carry a dagger. Not that she could use it...she had not carried one for ages. "I should probably buy one or see if Esgallhugwen has a spare, considering these rumors of orc-men about," she mused to herself. "Or..."

A crash woke Lira from her reverie, and, glancing instinctively towards Morlathion, she saw that he and a chair had tumbled to the floor. She smiled and wondered what had brought him from Rivendell. "So, Morlathion," she said in her haunting musical voice, "what brings you to the Shire?"

Eruantalon

08-08-2003, 08:44 PM

Sitting down to a freshly cleaned table the stranger looked around and saw a few familar faces. Now if he could only get a drink. Cami fluttered around just like she did on her last visit, and it all seemed like the usual here.

But His hand had a good scrape from falling off his horse earlier. A nobel beast, this was true. But the horse had no power over sleepy horseman.Picking an even trail yes, Horseman no. How nice it felt to finaly get a good seat and a nice pint of ale.

At least some things haven't changed yet.He thought to himself. But some how I don't know where I'm going for once. How why I found myself in this place.

A fair lady sat at a table not far away and tened a cut one legged Elf. Maybe Cami will be good enough to get her services and a pint of ale.

A promising eveining awaited him. But the promise of new adventures was more exciting than any. He had followed the wind like a feather for so long. So now where would he go.

Ah quesssssa orrrrrre aaaaanga ummmmmmbar. He sang this in a rising and falling melody. That seemed to linger like smoke rings in the air. Closing his eyes to a swaying rythem that seemed to put him at ease.

[ August 08, 2003: Message edited by: Eruantalon ]

Tinuviel of Denton

08-09-2003, 12:21 AM

"You dropped your sword? I'm surprised that you survived. Was it good luck, or bad that you lived to inflict yourself on this poor Inn?" Not to mention the patrons. This fellow was the most accident-prone that Reynion had ever met, including himself when drunk. "That was a rhetorical question, by the by."

He smiled a little at Lira. She looked a little more familiar now, probably one of the elves who'd kept more to the halls and tended the wounded, rather than going out and getting wounded like himself. Eh, well, he supposed that some people were just smarter that way.

"So, Morlathion, what brings you to the Shire?" Lira asked. Reynion brought his attention back to the conversation.

piosenniel

08-09-2003, 12:29 AM

‘There’s a new guest just come in,’ said Buttercup hurrying into the kitchen to retrieve the platters of food that would be served for supper tonight. She arranged the bowls of chicken stew, thick with vegetables, on the big tray, and piled up a few baskets of freshly sliced bread in the center. Ruby followed after her with the crocks of sweet butter and a pitcher of ale to refill the guests’ mugs.

Cook, her job done, went before them and held the kitchen doors open for the two servers. Her eyes surveyed the room, looking at the hungry patrons and their eager faces. She gasped as her gaze fell on the young man sitting at one of the tables. She hadn’t seen him in a very long time. An old friend of Miz Pio’s. She recalled he sang beautifully, and he played the lute if she remembered correctly.

Best of all, though, she remembered his stories. Some of them quite scary, just the way she liked them. There was one he had told about Ungta, the wicked cave spider and the special arrows of the Dwarves he had used to bring her down. That spider’s blood was green and foul smelling, she recalled him saying. And she could see the image of it as it gushed out when he drove his sword into her.

Cook snatched a bowl of stew, a basket of bread, a crock of butter from Buttercup’s tray and a fresh, foaming tankard of ale from the behind the bar. She sat them down carefully in front of the man, and plucked some utensils from her pocket for him.

‘Mister Eru, isn’t it sir?’ she asked him, as she sat the tankard down by the bowl of stew. ‘Good to have you back? Are you just passing through, or will you be staying a while.’ She eyed him hopefully. ‘And might there be any new stories from your travels?’ Dropping her voice low, she continued, ‘Anymore encounters with wicked big spiders, by any chance? . . .’

RoA_Gil-Galad

08-09-2003, 01:00 AM

"Oh, I'm just wandering through. I always wanted to visit the Havens and I just couldn't help but stop and visit this quaint little village here. Besides, I need a bit of rest. I've walked all the way here from Rivendell nonstop, and I was briefly waylaid by Orcs shortly after I began my journey."

He reaches for his cup, then remembered that he had dropped both of them. He looked over at the bar, but decided against getting another drink as he didn't trust himself to holding anything else that night.

"The time I dropped my sword was the time I was stabbed. Luckily, I had a dagger with me and impaled the Orc with it. Always carry a spare, I say. So, where are you all from?"

Tinuviel of Denton

08-09-2003, 01:22 AM

A look of pain flashed across Reynion's face. "You know something, Morlathion?" he asked humorlessly. "You seem to have a positive genius for asking the questions I don't want to answer..." He trailed off, remembering exactly why he didn't want to answer that particular question.

Greenwood. He missed his home, the great oaks standing tall, the slender beeches that always seemed to dance, the silver birches. He sometimes wondered if he would ever go back, but always, there was some reason not to. His leg was most prominent when he thought of reasons never to return. His father was another, though somewhat less important. And then there was her. He wouldn't go back and face Tau--her again, not like this. Not crippled. It would never work.

He rubbed his temples. It seemed that he could never get away from the shadow of the mission. It was no wonder that he'd begun to drink. It was the only way he could find to forget, even for a little while, the faces of the elves who never came back from that trek into Greenwood. No, no, it was Mirkwood now. Even with the shadow of the Dark Lord driven out.

Elora

08-09-2003, 02:56 AM

Vanwe touched a light finger to the paintwork on the freshly carved hitching posts. It was dry, she noted with satisfaction, the warmth of the day quickly seeing to the paint. She maneouvred the posts, two supporting beams and a cross beam, onto sackcloth and begane to drag them to the front of the inn. It was not a long way, from back of stable to front of inn, but with that weight it seemed to be miles.

Determined, Vanwe pulled the burdened sack cloth to where the old, rotten hitching post lay. It hadn't moved since she'd dug it up that morning when someone relayed the need of repair to her. Apparantly someone had hitched their horse to the old post in the night, failing to notice the rotted state. It was a wonder the horse was still there to be collected. When Vanwe had inspected it, the wood was all but collapsed.

Despite her slight and delicate stature, a life spent in toil gave Vanwe a surprising strength that belied her appearance. She dragged the posts to the front of the inn and worked the two supporting posts into the ground. Packing earth around them, they settled easily into the waiting holes. She slotted the cross bar into their waiting joins, pleased with the accuracy of her measuring.

Dove-tail joints, precisely carved earlier that morning, gripped and she leant against the new hitching post to examine her handiwork. Seemed her facility with wood was not limited to useless carvings afterall, and she was well pleased if somewhat thirsty at the proof of that. It was good to know she had something of value to offer.

The paintwork had also taken some time. Vanwe had ferretted out white and ivy green paint, and paint brushes as well. In a flight of creativity, she'd described in green pain a twining and elegant green dragon that rose around each supporting post. Vanwe had added a few vines to trail along the hitching bar as well. Such decoration had no place on a functional feature, but she'd added it all the same. A green dragon winked and smiled at her from one post.

Vanwe patted the cross bar and smiled back at it. This hitching post should last for some time, years upon years, and with a little care the dragons and vines would endure with it. There were no harsh desert winds that ate through rock and soil and flesh here in the north to obliterate them.

The sound of a reproachful whicker from the stable floated out to Vanwe's hearing. She's spent the day on the hitching post and hadn't done anything in the stables proper. She tucked fine blonde hair back behind her ears and straighted. Her stomach protested the very thought of going to the stables instead of the kitchen. The idea of a cool drink, perhaps wine, made her thirsty indeed.

Still, her work called and she could not enjoy neither meal nor wine until she had seen to it. With a tired sigh, Vanwe turned away from the hitching post and towards the stable.

"I'm coming," she murmured to the displeased equine denizens in the vain hope her promise would appease them. When Derufin appeared, walking from the stables, Vanwe smiled and inwardly hoped her new hitching post in it's bright newness would meet with his pleasure. If not, she had a long night fixing it ahead of her.

"I've finished the new hitching post," she called to him as he walked towards her. She extended her arm to gesture in elven grace towards the white and green creation. "I'll see to the horses now, too, if you like Derufin," she added. She could see he seemed preoccupied and hoped the offer would ease the many things that she sensed pressed upon the man.

She shaded her face from the sun with one hand held at her brow as she waited for his assessment of her work. Absently, she brushed at wood shavings that had taken up residence in the worn cotton of her blue dress or her hair. Beren walked behind him, her blue gaze shifting to settle upon him for a moment and then back to Derufin.

RoA_Gil-Galad

08-09-2003, 03:01 AM

"Oh, um, sorry..." Morlathion starts to fiddle with his bandages and suddenly becomes very interested in staring at the floor. After a few minutes of silence, he got up.

"I'm gonna go grab myself some ale. Does anybody else want anything?

Envinyatar

08-09-2003, 11:49 AM

He reached out a hand to pull one long, thin curlicue of wood from her hair. ‘The horses can wait for now, Vanwe. I’ve left them fresh hay, and despite the protestations from Nettle, they can make do with that until we return.’ He looked critically at the new hitching post, running his fingers over the twining dragons, letting them drift across the trail of vines. 'Very nice work!' he said to her. ‘She will like this,’ he murmured to himself, taking in the images appreciatively.

In a moment of pleased expansiveness, he took the Elf’s arm and turned her toward the Inn. Surprised, she allowed the liberty of his touch.

Derufin made a slight bow to her; then, urged her toward the kitchen’s door. ‘May I offer the artist a glass of wine and something to eat?’ he said, his eyes twinkling as he held the door open for her. He leaned in close as he entered behind her. ‘I know the cook here. We can have the table of our choice, I think.’

He pulled out a chair for her, indicating she should be seated. Buttercup, an expression of amusement on her face, as she watched the man maneuver the Elf, came up to the table. ‘And will that be dinner for two?’ she asked, her teeth flashing in a smile at Derufin.

‘Three, actually,’ he replied motioning to Beren who had lagged along behind them. ‘Bring us some stew and bread, if you please . . . with honey, as I recall,’ he said winking at Vanwe. ‘I’ll be back in a moment. I’m just going out to fetch a bottle of the wine Aman laid in last week . . . a Southron offering . . .’

Esgallhugwen

08-09-2003, 12:06 PM

The late afternoon sun shone on Esgallhugwen's face revealing her sparkling grey eyes. Morlathion gets into more accidents now with his hand being bandaged. She could not help but notice Lira always giggling now and then and that she was looking at her.

Esgallhugwen raised her eyebrow in a humorous gesture and took a sip of her wine. 'I had ment no offense to you Morlathion by saying that you may get into trouble, and I didn't intend for you to think that you would get attacked that is very unlikely here it seems'

She took another sip of her wine eyeing the room around her, it was getting dark out and slightly hot in the Inn. She unclapsed her hood and folded it next to her.

Esgallhugwen's auburn hair fell in thick waves down her back glistening slightly with the rays of the sun. Her grey eyes shone for once her spirits were lifted up, for the time being which may be short the shadow was always on her mind it was apart of her always.

She looked at Lira for a moment enjoying herself with Morlathion and Reynion. Esgallhugwen sank into deep thoughts her face looking slightly saddened and haunting; much like a pale statue that has seen many ages go by thuogh she was yet young for an Elf.

littlemanpoet

08-09-2003, 01:43 PM

Falco Boffin came in the front door of the Green Dragon Inn. It was a good thing he'd left his pony stabled at the shirrif's house as there didn't seem to be much room at the stablehouse of the Inn.

"Ah! Just in time for supper!" Falco grinned.

A strange big person followed him in. The man was not very tall and held a well worn cap in his rough hands, revealing a mat stringy dark hair that came to his shoulders. His clothes were as well worn as his hat, and so was his face. His pale blue eyes shifted from side to side, taking in the room. He stank.

"Hi!" said Falco, "There's Derufin with stablehand and someone else new I'll need to befriend." He turned to his companion. "Since you refuse a bath, you can sit over there, sir."

The man's lip rose with look that would dismember if looks could, and pulled a chair from the first table, eyeing the Elf sitting there distrustfully, and pulled the chair to the wall. He sat on the edge of it, as if he was ready to jump and run at need.

"That's our wanderer," Falco said. "None too friendly, I might add, which is why we've had to take an extra day or so getting him here. He did insist on coming here, for what it's worth, and I don't know what he thinks or wants, but that's the way of it.

"Now, where or those bright lassies with the food and drink?" He pulled up a fourth chair and sat down, nodding to Derufin and Vanwe, and turned to the other man. "My name's Falco Boffin. Welcome to the Shire. How may I call you?"

Elentarimir

08-09-2003, 04:55 PM

Megilien stepped back as Randir broke her control and sped out of the stables. She got back up and watched him ride into the distance. She also saw him turn south, and knew that he would be leaving the Shire. She cursed him and herself under her breath.

Megilien opened her stable door. She quickly saddled and bridled her horse, then mounted the trembling animal. She nudged the horse's side, and left the stables at a gallop. Her only thought was: I will catch up with him. He cannot hide.

[ August 09, 2003: Message edited by: Elentarimir ]

Imladris

08-09-2003, 06:22 PM

Lira sighed sadly when she heard Reynion's anwer to Morlathion. He had seen much pain and grief, probably too much of it. She wondered fleetingly why he had lost his leg, but that also would have a sad tale attached to it. Her gaze swept the room: some were angry, some were happy, many were sad. Swirling her wine glass and absently noting how the wine looked like liquid ruby as it nearly splashed over the rim, she wondered how it felt to loose all that one possessed. Three hundred years were the years Lira boasted, yet it seemed she lived, nay continued longer than that; it was as if she had lived in Middle-Earth since it began. It had only been she had journeyed to Ithilien that she had really lived again. She remembered the evil that had lurked and spread like a virus in Greenwood. The wizards had had to drive the Necromancer from Mirkwood, and Lira remembered the joy that had for a time settled over the elvish realm. Then it had come back, and the orcs had attacked the fair kingdom and nearly destroyed it. Her parents had left after those horrors, and Lira wondered if they had made it safely to the Valinor.

Glancing at Esgallhugwen, Lira noticed that she was rather sad. Leaving Morlathion and Reynion, she asked Esgallhugwen, "What bitter thoughts haunt your mind this evening?"

Elora

08-09-2003, 07:14 PM

Vanwe hastily tugged at any lingering wood shavings as Derufin guided her through the Inn's door and to a table. She was smiling, pleased that her work had met with such unprecedented and enthusiastic appreciation. She did wonder though, who the she that Derufin referred to was. There was no time to ask, another question filed away in her mind for a later time perhaps.

Vanwe found herself seated at a table, Beren joining them. She did not know his name, nor the manner of his character, but Derufin's acceptance of the man went far to ease her habitual wariness. Beren found himself presented with a smile rather than a pensive expression, and her eyes were warm. But before she could remedy the matter of their names, another joined their number. Meanwhile the mention of southron wine was added to her earlier unasked question.

Vanwe gazed at the newly arrived Falco, blinking at his warm and ready smile. She had never seen so many smiles in one place before, and was more accustomed to scowls and grim men who viewed her with a mix of suspicion, mistrust and speculation. Falco Boffin displayed none of these. Neither did Beren or Derufin or Aman or Lespheria. It was no wonder her guard was slowly melting away.

Beren sat back in his chair as Vanwe stood and dropped where she stood a small curtsy. Courtesy was ingrained in her, and her company was far above her station as well she knew.

"Good afternoon, Master Falco Boffin. Sitting before you is a man I have not yet had the pleasure to meet," Vanwe said as her cheeks lightly flushed with her admission of ignorance. "I am Vanwe," she finished. She deliberately ended there, adding no location that she hailed from. She was not of the Shire, just yet. Mention of the Haradwaithe would only be a disaster to that would ruin the pleasant air.

She smiled at Falco and then back to Beren who watched the display with his customary smile in place, at ease. It did not occur to Vanwe that her speech would be marked by the lilting cadence of the south, and her lack of homeland only draw emphasis to what she wished unmentioned. She gestured to a chair.

"Derfuin will shortly return with wine, and it is to be hoped that food will follow soon after," she said. "Please sit, Master Falco." Vanwe sat herself and turning her attention to the as yet unintroduced Beren. It was then she noticed small specks of white and green paint decorated her fingers. Her eyes widened, large, and slowly she began to withdraw them from the table to hide them in her lap. What must be thought of her, sitting paint daubed and in disarray at the table, she did not wish to know. Another thought occurred to her.

How long would it take to get the long wearing marine paint that she had used on the hitching post off her skin? Her thumb rubbed at one offending speck as she attempted to unobtrusively remove her hands from sight. Her cheeks retained their rosy flush against her pale skin as Beren saw to introducing himself to Falco and then her. With a flash of foresight, Vanwe realised that he may well ask for her hand in the introduction, as was sometimes the manner here in the north. She stilled in her chair, hands clasped in her lap with the stubborn paint upon them.

Beren's smile suggested more than good humour. His eyes were alert and had not missed her slow withdrawal of her hands. Vanwe braced herself for what would come, wishing for the floor to swallow her whole and for the wine to quickly arrive. Perhaps she could remove the paint with that. It sometimes worked, and if not she'd drink it. Perhaps then she would not see the offending paint.

Beren87

08-09-2003, 08:24 PM

Beren, a smile pasted upon his face, watched the proceedings of the group around him. The small, bobbing hobbit before him was a constant source of amusement, and the woman to his right so nervous she was nearly twitching.

"Well, I suppose I should introduce myself then, seeing as how you've all presented yourselves so kindly to me. My name's Beren, and you can feel free to call me by it at anytime you please. I'm from the South, though, a bit more north than you, Mrs.Vanwe, judging by your accent."

She blushed slightly at his comment, giving him enough information to know to say no more. If she chose not to introduce her homeland, that was her business. Her arms twitched slightly as he rose to shake the hand of Master Boffin, suddenly he realised her obvious concealment of the appendages, and his mind began to race.

Suddenly, he looked down as his hand extended to meet that of Boffin's, noticing it's brownish coloration. "Well then, I think I'll just sit right back down then. The hands of a gardener, as they say." He presented his hands in the air, showing them to the sitting two. He glanced backwards as he started to sit down, checking to see that the appropriate piece of furniture was still in it's proper place. Sitting down upon a nonexistant chair was never a good ordeal.

Just as he got himself settled back into the seat, Derufin came up, a bottle of spirits in hand. "Well then," said Beren, "If my opposing stench hasn't ran off your thirst, as of yet, I would say it's time to give this wine a new home."

The jest at himself proved well-put, as the three around him broke into laughter> Vanwe giggled softly to herself, started to cover her mouth, then quickly thought better of it. Beren gave a small wink in her direction, causing an thorough reddening.

RoA_Gil-Galad

08-10-2003, 04:43 AM

"Oh, I'll just get you another ale. You seemed to enjoy the first."

He walks slowly and cautiously over to the bar, and everybody who had seen his earlier accidents was now giving him a wide berth.

"Um, bartender? Two ales, metal cups with nice, big, safe handles. Thank you."

He returns to the table, shuffling his feet so that he won't trip, and sets both mugs down onto the table. He sits down and takes a swig of ale, but doesn't notice a leak on the bottom and ends up leaking quite a bit of liquid onto his cloak.

"Ugh... And I just got the Orc blood out, too."

He wipes at the cloak with both hands, forgetting his mug, and spills the entire thing on himself.

He rises and removes his cloak, hanging it on the back of the chair.

"Well, since you don't seem very keen on telling me about your past, I'll tell you about mine. I was born Imladris seven hundred and fifty-six years ago next month. I currently reside in Gondor, but I'm on my way back up to the Havens to visit my family. Most of them have already returned to the Havens. We're scattered about, you see, and I was heading back for a reunion. And to meet my twin cousins, recently born. They're less than a year old. I wonder what they look like..."

He leans back in thought and closes his eyes.

Elora

08-10-2003, 06:23 AM

Vanwe's lips curved into a smile before she could think twice at Beren's impish wink. She folded her fingers and shifted a little in her seat as she let them fall back to her lap and away from polite sight after they had vainly attempted to still her laughter. In such merry company it was easy to relax a little, as the cant of her shoulders suggested. She sat back in her chair, still smiling and notch by notch she unwound.

Meeting new people had never been easy for her, but then they had not been so pleasant as Falco and Beren were proving. Derufin poured out the wine in ample measure. Vanwe watched the glass nearest to her fill. There was no room for water to be added. She waited for Derufin to sit. A glass was pushed towards her. Fingers speckled lightly green and white wrapped around the stem and pulled it closer.

She was thirsty after a day's work, pleasant as it had been. What matter that the wine was unwatered? It surely could not be so strong as to unlodge her from her chair in one glass, could it? She raised her glass, inspecting its contents whilst those at the table discussed the matter of a suitable toast.

"To the pleasure of newly met companions and the gentle Shire," Vanwe offered to the discussion. It was bolder than her usual wont, but then she was thirsty and the wine's bouquet sharpened that edge. Derufin, Beren and Falco glanced at each other and then acquiesed, some with a shrug. The sweet taste of unwatered wine greeted Vanwe.

Like rains newly come to the desert, she welcomed it with vigour. She did not lower her glass with the others, throat dry. When she did set down her glass there was a warm buzz within her head and the glass was near empty. Derufin raised one brow, to which her smile was her response. Her tension had melted away.

"They make wonderful wine in the south," she commented, laughing lightly for a reason she could not quite put her finger on at that moment. What she did note is that her thirst had not entirely abated. Vanwe sipped a little more delicately at her glass. She gave a small sigh of consternation when it emptied all too soon from her chair at the table. She had hoped to use the wine to remedy her painted hands.

As if she sat alone, Vanwe upended her glass to pry a few reluctant drops from her glass onto her fingers. She resisted the temptation to suck the wine from them and instead started to work at the paint. It started to give way. She had nearly rid her fingers of all the daubing when she heard a droll voice comment, "Interesting uses can the sweet southern wines be put to."

Vanwe's head bobbed up as the last speck surrendered.

"Would anyone like some more wine?" She reached now cleaner hands towards the bottle, ready to pour. The same droll voice added, "I, for one, will be intrigued to see what next she does with her glass of wine." Beren winked with the comment. Vanwe winked back and renewed his glass, seeing to Derufin's and Falco's before her own.

She breathed in the wine's boquet as she raised her glass and resolved to pay better attention to doings at the table rather than fidgeting in her lap like a child. For that she was not.

"What brings you to the Green Dragon, Master Falco," Vanwe inquired lightly as though she often made light conversation over unwatered wine.

littlemanpoet

08-10-2003, 12:49 PM

"What brings you to the Green Dragon, Master Falco?" asked the Elf woman Vanwë lightly, her now clean fingers curved gracefully around the stem of her wine glass. Falco was awed by Elves any day, being strictly a Shire Hobbit, but this Elf woman was as friendly as he'd ever seen, and did not seem as old as the earth itself as he'd heard most of 'em were from the tales the Veterans of the War had brought back from places far away.

"This here lout," Falco gestured behind him with an exposed thumb. The unkempt man sitting on the edge of his seat glanced their way briefly, his pale blue eyes cool and untrusting. "He's the one what found the satchel up north away, the one belonging to that King's Messenger from Rohan you've up and lost. The harp was all busted up, you'd think someone had used it for hammering pegs or some such. Anyways, this here fellow says he wants to come here, says he's obliged to follow this through." Falco bent closer and winked for Vanwë and the two men conspiratorially. "I bet it's the first time he figured hisself obliged about anything. Nasty lookin' sort, if you take my meaning. I wonder who he calls his friends."

"I heard you," said the man whose stench mitigated the pleasantness of the wine and present company. "I am no Ruffian, if that's what you're gettin' at. I'm obliged to prove it an' that's the only reason I'm here." The man's gravelly voice was harsh to the ears, as if he used it seldom.

"So you say, so you say," said Falco. "I'll be lookin' for you to prove it."

"I will soon as I get vittles in me and a decent place to eat it." He looked at the nearby tables with ill-disguised revulsion on his face for those currently at table.

"Funny," said Falco, "him lookin' so uppity at us all when he's no beauty hisself, eh? So what do you make of him?" Falco looked from eye to eye to see who would be first to confirm his opinion, sure that they must see, even though they were no Hobbits, that the man was not to be trusted.

Beren87

08-10-2003, 02:56 PM

Beren leaned his chair back slightly, resting it's corner against the edge of the wall, trusting his weight to the, hopefully, two strong legs. He surveyed the man Falco had pointed out, looking him up and down. His ill-kempt appearance was something Beren never took at face value, after all, his own appearance when entering the dragon made this new-comer look like a high Steward on the throne.

"Well, as far as travelers go, he's not terribly ill-looking, I'd say. A bit rough around the edges, but his speech isn't harsh, as some ruffians I've met has. He hasn't offended any of us, and that's something I hold rather high." Beren stared smugly at the hobbit, having said his opinion. He knew Falco had judged him purely on his appearence, and discerning that his assumption was wrong wasn't going to please him one bit.

"I won't judge the man on appearance, my good man," stated Beren, "considering his own current is better than mine when I came in. I think we're just better to hear his story out, and see what he has to say, before we come up with any ideas about his character. And, until then, I think I'll be having more wine." Beren took the glass sitting in front of him, and downed it post-haste, it's contents flowing warmly into him. Generally, he shyed from the stuff, but this wasn't the road anymore, and he didn't need his wits at the sharpest at all times.

Arien_Tinuviel

08-10-2003, 04:59 PM

Eceste walked alone down the deserted road.A black blouse and skirt were hidden by an ebony silk cloak. The hood hid half her face and a few strands of black hair slipped out from beneath the cover. Large, sapphire orbs looked up at the sky. It was almost sundown, she'd better hurry if she were to find a place to rest. Eventually, she came to a small tavern. How interesting, she had never seen this place before though she had taken this road on a journey or two before. Eceste waved away the mental question. Her last visit here had been at least a hundred or so years ago. Upon entering she was greeted with the smell of smoke and ale. She scrunched her nose a bit. To her left, a man sat with his legs up on the table talking to another and casually sipping his ale. She walked timidly over to the table next to them and sat down. She removed her hood revealing a mark, looking like that of a half circle with a whole dot in the middle, on her forehead. A lady walked up to her.

"Would you like anything miss..."

"Illuser," Eceste said giving the bartender her Ranger name, "I'd just like a water thank you." The lady nodded and headed toward the bar. Eceste tugged at a bit of the long black skirt she wore. It was most irritating. She set down her knapsack, which held her other pair fo clothes and had her sword strapped to it. After receiving her drink, she gazed around at the inn. It seemed nice enough. But someting still nagged at her mind. Shifting in her chair, she turned to the two men who had been talking.

"Excuse me, but how far is Bree from here?"

[ August 10, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Elora

08-10-2003, 05:29 PM

Vanwe studied Falco's companion through her lashes, hesitant to openly stare. It was true, she mused silently, that she had seen worse. Compared to the denizen's of Umbar's seedier district, he looked to be a lord by appearances. Besides which, who knew when an appearance was a true indication of the person who lay beneath? She had fallen afoul of appearances before and did not trust them in the least.

"The road can be hard, pressing even the most noble," particularly when pursued, Vanwe silently added with the voice of experience. "He does not smell so terribly bad, though Master Falco. Nothing that some water and soap could not rememdy."

Vanwe glanced at Beren and Falco in turn, attempting the guage the mood between the two. Men were difficult to fathom, she had found in her travels. To prove her words, Vanwe took a deep breath and held it. The smell was palpable. She concealed it neatly with her glass and took a healthy mouthful of the wine. The warm buzz in her head continued, muzzing her usual reserve and banishing it to the four winds. She smiled at the table as she set her glass down and did her best to ignore the smell she had taken willingly into her lungs.

After spending considerable time in the company of goats and horses, it was a feat within her capacity. Glass set down to allow her head to clear a little, Vanwe idly traced patterns upon the tabletop, her finger stroking the wood, as conversation about Falco's companion and satchel continued. It was no small matter, that much evident in how Derufin leaned forward to pay closer attention.

On a whim, Vanwe extended her senses as best she could. Appearances may be deceiving, but the wrongness that emmanates from malice and evil and hurt could not be contrived. Her fingers traced a graceful pattern as she struggled to learn what lay beneath appearances. It was a task made difficult by the wine.

theWhiteLady

08-10-2003, 07:28 PM

The silence outside began to stretch on for an uncomfortable time, and Laurie began to shift uncertainly from foot to foot. Her companion was staring off into the darkening sky, apparently lost in thought, and she felt reluctant to disturb him; however, she had completely recovered from the earlier incident and gotten plenty of fresh air. The heavy sleepiness had left completely, but a leaden tiredness took its place; Laurie was very conscious that she had not had a good night's sleep in quite some time.

"Captain," she finally spoke up, and he turned, eyebrows lifted in reply. "Would you mind if I step back inside?" she continued. "I feel much better, thank you, but it's getting rather late..."

He cut her off curtly with a nod. "I understand. I trust you will sleep peacefully." Laurie curtsied and made her escape through the door after thanking him once more. The room was quite as crowded as before, perhaps more so, and the buzz of conversation seemed to have become louder. The young woman began to search for Cook, dully hoping she would be easily found; the ride to the inn had been long making the thought of bed a delightful prospect.

Amanaduial the archer

08-12-2003, 11:54 AM

Aman made her way up the path quite slowly, enjoying the hot, pleasant late afternoon air. Her hair was down, falling gently over the shoulders of the tunic she was wearing for practicality's sake, as she had been to Bree that day, to see Butturbur. The man seemed to find replying to letters difficult, and was apparently totally incapable of keeping meetings. So she had gone to him and, apparently flustered and embarrassed at having forgotten their arranged meeting a few days, he had offered excellent hospitality today, and had agreed to send on some select wines for a reduced price. Aman smiled to herself. No matter what people might say about the forgetful old fool, he could be a gent when he wanted to be.

She shifted her cloak from her right arm to her left. She had taken off the long sleeved top underneath, so her arms were bare under the short sleeved tunic, the sleeves of which reached to her elbow loosely, and it was just as well; although Cook had made her take her cloak when she set off this morning, the weather had been beautiful all day.

As she came up to the entrance of the Inn, she felt a shiver run up her body, despite the warm air, the same feeling of delight that she would experience when she came back to her Rohan home after being away for a long time. She had only been away for a day, but she felt she happy to be back. And it wasn't just the Inn itself that she would be glad to see again...

Novnarwen

08-12-2003, 12:23 PM

Stirru made his way towards his companion. Easy, he thought, feeling slightly pleased with himself. "Look, my friend," he said giggling, hoping his 'over-man' was as pleased as him. Folw made a grimace showing him that this was better then expected. "You have learned, Stirru. I enjoyed your performance," Folw said, sitting relaxed in his chair. "Supper is on me then?" Stirru asked Folw.

As they sat eating their bread and soup, they went over the plan again. Folw said: "We'll sneak us in, from the back of the house and then proceed to the living room." Stirru raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I mean, from the windows it will be easy for people outside to get a glimpse of us," he asked, trying not to be rude. Folw listened and grew irritated. "Of course I am right. Do not question my plan," he grinned. "Going to the living room first will be best, end of discussion." he sighed while emptying his soup bowl. "I am going to bed now, up early tomorrow." He said taking one of the silver coins from Stirru. "You better get a rooStirru made his way towards his companion. "Easy," he thought, feeling slightly pleased with himself. "Look, my friend," he said giggling, hoping his 'over-man' was as pleased as him. Folw made a grimace shwoing him that this was better then expected. "You have learned, Stirru. I enjoyed your performance," Folw said, sitting relaxed in his chair. "Supper, on me then?" Stirru asked Folw.

As they sat eating their bread and soup, they went over the plan again. "We'll sneak us in, from the back of the house and then proceed to the living room." Stirru raised an eyebrown. "Are you sure? I mean, from the windows it will be easy for people outside to get a glimpse of us," he asked, trying not to be rude. Folw listened and grew irritated. "Of course I am right. Do not question my plan," he grinned. "Going to the living room first will be best, end of discussion." he sighed while emptying his soup bowl. "I am going to bed now, up early tomorrow." He said taking one of the silver coins from Stirru. "You better get a room for yourself," he said and left the common room without a word.

Stirru sat uneasy at the bench, wondering what he had done wrong. As a companion he had the right to ask, he thought feeling embarrassed by Folw’s whole ‘lesson’. He ate his bread in a hurry and ordered a room. "I'll be out of here tomorrow," he assured the Innkeeper. Thereafter he paced out catching some fresh air, before going to bed. The day to come, was important, not just for him, but for both.

Envinyatar

08-12-2003, 01:22 PM

Derufin sat with a look of smiling interest passing into consternation as Vanwe knocked back the wine. He was sure she was not a seasoned drinker, and from the quantity that had already passed her lips, he knew that soon the drink would begin to affect her. He got up from his place at the table and fetched a pitcher of cool water from the kitchen.

The wine bottle was almost empty, and Vanwe reached for it to refill her cup. ‘Allow me,’ said Derufin softly, leaning toward her, his fingers grasping the neck of the bottle. He poured two fingers of wine for her and then filled the glass with water.

‘Excuse me, m’lady. I had forgotten.’ She looked at him, a protest forming on her lips. ‘I had forgotten,’ he said, pouring the last of the wine in Beren’s cup, then raising his half drunk cup to hers, ‘that it is the custom for ladies to drink their wine a little watered. And despite the man’s work you have done so admirably today, you are still a lady.’ He sipped from his cup, his grey eyes challenging hers to gainsay him.

He flagged Buttercup down and asked for food to be brought. ‘Wine on an empty stomach brings regret,’ he mused to himself, remembering such incidents in his own life. The conversation flowed on around him as he eyed the rough looking man from the north. As he was waiting for food to arrive, he invited the sullen fellow to join him at a separate table, picking up two pints of ale from the bar as they passed.

‘Difficult, isn’t it to be around the Halflings. They never seem to trust us, do they? And the Fair Folk, well they’re another breed altogether.’ He leaned back in his chair, drinking the ale, seemingly glad to be in the company of an ordinary man. ‘Name’s Derufin,’ he offered, ‘from Ringló originally.’ He raised his mug to the man, then took another drink . . .

piosenniel

08-12-2003, 01:37 PM

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

Resistance – Lyra Greenleaf, Owner

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

Check it out HERE (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=19&t=000096)

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 a fun game!

~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ August 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Arien_Tinuviel

08-12-2003, 03:27 PM

Please rework this post

Please read The Red Book of Westmarch - the first topic in the Shire: It contains all the rules for posting in the Inn and in games. One of the basic rules is that there is to be no magic. Your character has a magic mirror - that is not allowed.

"And the fair folk, well they're another breed altogether."

Eceste glanced over at the man who had said those words and gave him an unseen glare. Then she heard his name. 'Delufin'. Now where had she heard that name before? The she-elf just shrugged and decided to ignore the man. He didn't seem that worthy of talking to anyway.

'Interesting aren't they?'

Blue eyes shot around the room, hoping noone else had heard, then she moved to another table in the far corner. The elf took out a small mirror, at first only showing a young girl with unusually black hair, but then her image disappeared and another figure came to view.

"What are you blabbering about now, Kharl?" Eceste hissed. The black cloaked figure smirked.

'The humans, the mortals. You've been wandering the roads so long you've forgotten how rude they can be.'

Eceste scowled at the figure.

"Kharl, go away. I don't need this now." the temperature in the room seemed to drop a bit, as the annoyance in her friend grew. Kharl cocked his head to one side.

'Fine, but I have a message from Master.'

"Give it to me."

'He's shortened your time to retrieve the Relic. You're close enough now you should be able to reach it in about a week shouldn't you?'

"But-" Eceste stopped short. She couldn't turn down an order, "Alright." With a grin, the image banished from the mirror, leaving her staring back at herself. Suddenly, she felt a shadow hovering over her.

"Oh great."

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

Elora

08-12-2003, 03:50 PM

Vanwe had started up straighter in her chair when Derufin produced the water. The wine had such a sweet and powerful taste, unwatered. Unusual boldness of spirit filled her eyes as she watched the water flow into her cup and then the rest of the wine was gone. She looked back at her cup as Derufin spoke of ladies.

Before she could think better of it, a delicate brow arched smoothly in question. Vanwe knew all too well what ladies were. She did not fall in those elite ranks. She met Derufin's direct stare with a flash of spirited challenge that lightened her blue eyes. She saw, then, that he was not mocking her. Laughter shifted through her, silvery and free. The challenge turned into something else, and she nodded her thanks and lifted her glass in salute.

Derufin would get no challenge from her now. The wine she sipped was altered. She set the glass down, revelling in a lightness of spirit that threatened to send her dancing out through the tables. It was a liberating sensation for one who had never been free of care. Maybe she'd try unwatered wine again, without gentlemen present, she thought. At that, an impish smile glowed at her mischeviousness.

Meanwhile, Derufin spoke of the uneasiness with which foreigners were viewed by Hobbits. Then he mentioned something else - his homeland. She rolled the name around in her head. She did not know it, but she could learn. Of course, if he knew she was learning, he'd ask about her own homeland.

Lespheria may know somewhat of her sorry account. Silvanis knew of her mother as did Amandur. What would Derufin make of such things? He may think twice of his assistant then. Vanwe's thoughts wandered down these paths, wondering what could be told and what needed to be hidden for all concerned if she found herself in a position where a decision had to be made. Her face grew pensive, thoughtful. She twirled her cup by the stem.

It would be nice to be just Vanwe. No past, nothing to hide. Perhaps it was a futile wish, but she made it nonetheless. Lost in thought as she momentarily was, her free hand drifted to the pouch at her belt. Fingers stole inside to wrap around the length of braided leather there. She often did that when thinking of past and future.

The press of conversation grew stronger and Vanwe realised she had drifted too far away. She gathered her thoughts and paid renewed attention to her table and talk there. She sipped the watered wine, felt that lightness stirring again within her. Vanwe laid her other hand out on the tabletop, the length of leather caught between the wood and her palm, as she endeavoured to pick up the tail of the conversation again.

Arien_Tinuviel

08-12-2003, 04:09 PM

Please answer my questions here and on page 6 before you continue with this character and this interaction.

Eceste glanced over at the elf now before her.

"Listen Aranti, I'm sorry. I got lo-"

'That's enough kid. Master told you to meet me here half a day ago.'

Eceste shrunk into her seat. She could tell some of the other guests here had heard them for she could feel the some of the stares and glances they were being given. Aranti was really mad. Sure, she was her friend, but this partivular elf didn't let relationships intefere with her missions. Sometimes Eceste wished that she would.

'Thank you.'

Eceste looked up and saw that Aranti had been thanking the lady who had given her an ale. She could still feel the eyes of others and she leaned foward and whispered to the other elf.

"That was really embarrassing you know."

She saw Aranti take a sip of her ale and grin casually at her.

'Well, you had it coming.

Who is this Master you are talking about?

Sauron is destroyed, Saruman is also - this is the 4th Age in Middle-earth

Piosenniel, Shire Mod

Sorry - I am unable to access your PM's due to a Forum software Error.

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

littlemanpoet

08-12-2003, 05:15 PM

Falco Boffin:
The man called Beren gave out that he wanted to judge the man by his story stead of his looks. Leastways, that's the best Falco could make of his high talk.

"I'm a Hobbit, my good sir, not a Man, and I'd take it kindly if you didn't forget it. But you're right as rain as to his story, though I ain't so sure I'm just going to start believing just 'cause he talks nice."

Falco could make head nor tail of what the Elf Lady said, which was no surprise to him. Still, he chuckled to himself to hear her delicate Elvish tongue trip over that last word she used, 'rememdy' or something. These two surely were not Hobbits and Falco felt out of his element, and then some.

After the stablemaster from Gondor served up the last of the wine, he excused himself and asked the wanderer to sit with him at another table, which suited Falco fine. If Derufin wanted to keep an eye on the man for him, so much the better. It's high time, my good Hobbit, for you to make the rounds here abouts and catch up with the lasses. He excused himself as politely as he knew how from Big Folk and Elven Lady type company, picked up his cup, and wandered off to visit with some of the locals.

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

The Wanderer:

‘Name’s Derufin,’ he offered, ‘from Ringló originally.’

This Derufin was civil at least. And those other two, the man Beren and the Elf woman, they'd put the Hobbit in his place. Maybe things were looking up. Too early to tell. Ringlo meant nothing. Somewhere foreign, no doubt.

"Falowik. Falowik Stonewort. Used to live out by Bree." He was not ready to say more than what little courtesy demanded. People. Nothing but trouble, people. They always made things difficult. Just his luck to find that satchel and the blood. It had to be reported, and it had fallen to him to do so. Like it or not. Even if it forced him to be around people for a few days and maybe longer. At least the food and drink promised to be good. If he could afford it. Which he doubted.

Falowik received his glass of ale and left it untouched. "How much is this? I don't have a lot. Live off my wits mostly."

spirit_detective

08-12-2003, 07:41 PM

SAVE for reworked post

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

check your PM's

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

piosenniel

08-13-2003, 02:57 AM

Green Dragon Inn Facts:

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne.

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 evening time, supper time of a pleasant mid-summer day in the Shire.

piosenniel

08-13-2003, 03:00 AM

piosenniel

08-13-2003, 03:34 AM

spirit_detective - # 8150

Arien_Tinuviel - # 8190

Do not continue your characters’ interactions with each other before you read and respond to my comments (some in PM – some on the Inn thread because I was unable to PM you)

Thank you – Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

Amanaduial the archer

08-13-2003, 05:55 AM

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

The scruffy looking man turned as he heard the clear, kind voice from the door, and the others turned as well. Derufin grinned. "Welcome back, Aman."

Aman inclined her head to him, hanging her cloak on the coat rack. She caught Beren's eye and made a show of stepping around the coat rack in gentle mockery of when he first came into the Inn and banged his head on said coatrack. He blushed slightly and grinned at her, but seemed slightly distracted. Beside him, Vanwe said something quietly, and he replied something else Aman couldn't hear. She gave a silvery laugh, and he winked at her, still smiling warmly.

Aman froze, and her smile faded slightly as she watched. She could almost feel herself turning green with envy....quickly she shook the feeling away. Don't be so ridiculous...

Walking past behind Vanwe towards the kitchen, Aman suddenly noticed something very odd about the elf's usually so shy behaviour - the way she was laughing so much, smiling widely, looking around merrily. All a bit too much....her gaze caught the wine in Vanwe's glass. She hadn't seen quiet Vanwe drinking before, or not much. She remembered when the quiet elf had first come into the Inn, and in a flash remembered what she had asked for; watered wine.

Looking at the wine bottle, as Derufin served out the last of it, it seemed Vanwe had probably been having her fair share of it. Falco excused himself, and made Vanwe once more chuckled softly, this time, leaning back as she did so...and almost falling of her chair in the process. Aman caught her discreetly, supporting her and pushing her upright, hopefully without anyone noticing.

She stood upright, her hand still on Vanwe's back, and addressed all seated there. "I'm just going to inform cook that I'm back, and tell her of the deals I've made. Excuse me." She bowed her head to those seated, then turned towards the kitchen, whispered to Derufin as she did so.

"Don't let Vanwe have any more wine..."

Imladris

08-13-2003, 08:42 AM

Lira leaned toward Esgallhugwen expectantly, when she heard the door open and a light footstep enter. Raising her golden head, Lira saw the woman whom she thought was the Innkeeper enter. Following the woman with her eyes, Lira watched her as she conversed with the Stableman and then made her way towards the kitchen. "Excuse me, Esgallhugwen, but I need to speak with the Innkeeper," she said softly as she silently and quickly followed the Innkeeper and intercepted her some feet from the kitchen. "Mistress Innkeeper," Lira said softly, "do you have a room and key? I forgot to get one when I first arrived and I am not weary. I do not know how long I will be staying, but I will pay for the room daily."

Lira followed the Innkeeper as she handed her the key and told her which room was hers. Lira stopped at the stairs and watched the Innkeeper continue to maker her way to the kitchen with a smile: she was a nice and beautiful woman and, though human, reminded Lira of her own mother. Floating up the stairs, she found her room and opened the door, which creaked softly, revealing a small airy dwelling. Cotton curtains hung over the windows and wood was stacked neatly for a fire. The bed was comfortable and Lira slowly stretched herself upon it and thought of Greenwood before the evil had come...

Amanaduial the archer

08-13-2003, 10:32 AM

Aman turned with a smile to the young woman who hailed her, putting off her visit to Cook at her request. She looked to be from Mirkwood, judging by her green clothes, rather fine by the look of the material and the way they were edged with silver, and her light ash-blonde hair, although her blue eyes looked more fitting to Imladris or Lorien. With embarrassment, Aman remembered the woman’s offer to help around the Inn - an offer made when Aman had been feeling a little distracted by a certain someone’s company – and Aman had not got back to her before she left for Bree. To give her a good room without delay would be the least Aman could do. Beckoning the woman, she stepped behind the bar, pulling out the log, and handed it to Lira, who smiled both courteously and warmly, and Aman felt her liking of this woman grow. But behind that smile, in her bright eyes, the Innkeeper noticed a deep sorrow which she had not previously seen. She couldn’t help wondering what it was that would linger so painfully in the woman’s eyes, why such pain should be in one so young – she stopped the thought, feeling foolish. She was elven – who know how long she had lived? Although she retained the looks of one the same age as Aman, give or take a few years, she could have lived Aman’s life a thousand times. The Innkeeper promised herself as she handed the key to Lira and showed her to where he room was, that she would talk to the elf tonight, or, if she did not come down for a drink, then tomorrow. And she would see what she could do about her offer as well, she added with a smile – its ridiculous, they spent weeks with very few staff, then suddenly Vanwe, Beren, and now Lira come along at once!

Making her way back down the stairs, Aman went into the kitchen, where Cook was just getting the stew ready to serve.

“Evening, Cook.” Aman smiled warmly at the hobbit as she spoke, making her jump around. The hobbit looked ready to scold, but smiled when she saw it was indeed Aman.

“Ah, Aman – did you resolve the matter of the wine with that old fool Butterbur?” Although Cook called him such, she didn’t speak scornfully – Vinca had known Barliman Butterbur for years, and they had a sort of fondness for each other that only those who have known each other for most of their lives can have. Although she herself called him an old fool and such, she would tsk and rebuke anyone else who tried to insult him.

The Innkeeper nodded, grinning as she leaned against the stove. “Aye, he was so sheepish about forgetting the meeting that he offered me several of his most select wines, hand picked by myself, for a cheaper price.”

Cook chuckled, shaking her head. “A gentleman, Butterbur, even if he is a daft fool who would forget his head if it wasn’t screwed on straight.”

Aman smiled, before continuing. “I got twenty bottles of red, and fifteen of white, ranging from last year, to some of the fine old vintage from…” she tried to remembered exactly, “twenty five years back, I think it was?”

“A good year,” Cook interjected.

“Indeed. We also have quite a few down there, but it could take some time to sort out - ” Aman stopped, suddenly realising where she could take up Lira on her offer. She paused, then spoke more slowly. “Actually, I may need some help in that quarter – it would take me weeks to do it myself, but with the help of someone else…”

“Ask Beren – I’m sure he would be glad to oblige you.” Aman ignored Cook’s snort of laughter that came after this.

“He will be busy with the garden. Didn’t you mention there were several new varieties you wanted putting in?”

“Derufin, or Vanwe?”

“I believe they’ll need to be preparing the stables for the party,” Aman replied firmly. “There will be far more horses coming in than usual. When is that, by the way?”

“Derufin received word from Miz Pio – two weeks from yesterday.”

“Then I will definitely be needing some help,” Aman’s voice was even firmer than before. “And no doubt you will need some help waitressing – didn’t Buttercup mention that she was going to see her mother in a few days, and that she would be gone for the same?”

Cook started to nod, then turned, eyes narrowed. “What are you planning, Miz Aman?”

Aman grinned, twiddling with a spoon by the side of the stove, and explained about Lira, then waited to see what Cook would think.