The Green Dragon Inn - Part 10

[Beruthiel]

Willow had voiced Daisy's feelings almost to pefection. Fear, nervousness and excitement all rolled into one. Then Aman came over to the hobbitlasses and asked whether they were ready. Daisy had lost her voice completely and couldn't reply. Even though she performed with her family quite a bit, there were big folk here. Strangers from other lands. A totally different scenario to what she was used to.

Already the group of hobbit lasses had come across a problem. Where would they perform? Aman suggested that the hobbits play on one of the trestle tables. Daisy didn't know what to do. It would be alright for the others, they only had to play the instruments and wouldn't take up too much space. Daisy, however, needed space to dance. She would have to hop to another table to do her dancing, then hop back to the other table to sing. She had a feeling she would be quite worn out by the end of this night. The butterflies in her stomach were not helping much either.

Daisy looked around at the other hobbit lasses, who were obviously just as nervous as she was, possibly more so since most of them had never performed before. Maybe Daisy had the upper hand in all of this, being relatively used to performing. She whispered to the group, "Don't worry, everything will be alright. You all are talented musicians. Everyone will love our music!" She tried to say all this with conviction, but faltered slightly when she said the last sentance.

She turned back to Aman and replied, "Yes, but I will need another table. I intend on dancing as well as singing for the performance and need more space."
Daisy had spoken quite formally, not knowing how else to speak to this woman.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Yes, but I will need another table. I intend on dancing as well as singing for the performance and need more space."

Aman nodded. "Of course. I will put a few together to make a sort of makeshift stage - why not?" She grinned, looking around at them. "And Daisy is right: everyone will love you."

With that, she left the little group of hobbits and went towards the end trestle table, moving the food and drink from it to slot snugly in between the assorted dishes of delicacies on the other tables. When it was clear, she would move it alongside another two tables nearby to form a sort of stage for some 'traditional' performing - dancing, flying tankards and all, she mused with a grin. Still, the table was hardly a little light thing: things in the 'Dragon were built to last generations of rowdy hobbits. It would take a while to move on her own...

[Mad Baggins]

Butterflies fluttered about excitedly in Mira's stomach. She drew the flute out of her pocket and held it tightly as if she were afraid that it would fly away. It was actually going to happen! They were going to perform! Much as she loved to play, she had rarely played in front of crowds. It was usually for her family and friends that she played.

Aman had gone off to re-arrange the tables so that they could play their instruments upon one and Daisy could dance and sing upon another. The hobbits crowded together, each feeling excited. Mira gulped nervously, which Lily noticed. The other hobbit smiled and patted Mira's shoulder, saying, "Don't worry, we'll be great!"

Mira took a deep breath and smiled at Lily. Taking her flute to her lips, she played a little warm-up tune to ready herself for the performance. Oh, waiting is so hard! she thought. When will Aman have the tables ready?

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Willow placed her hand on Mira's shoulder. "Nervous?" she asked. "I know how you feel. I've never played where anyone can hear me before."

She stood up, and began to retune her fiddle.

She stroked the bow across the strings, and brought it to exact tuning easily-- it was sometihng that she did so often. The tune of the violin hummed through her, bringing a smile to her face.

Playing earlier wasn't that bad, there were fewer people listening. And now, she had to play for everyone, and all would be listening. It was up to them to entertain. But will they like our music? she thought. What if they don't? What if they hate our music?

Willow stuck her head, bouncing her hair behind her head. She breathed out sharply, trying to settle the butterflies in her stomach. Never before had anyone heard her play, even though the few who had that day had said she sounded fine.

But there was such a thing as nervousness. And there was nothing she could do now but play. It was their job to now. And the others, by their faces were as nervous as she herself was.

"This should go well," she said. "This should go well."

[Firefoot]

When Aman suggested that they play on the trestle tables, Lily's eyes sparkled. It was half what she had expected, and in some strange way what she had been hoping for. Secretly, she had always wanted to stand on one of those tables and play her fiddle, but she had always been too nervous to suggest it. Now that she had the opportunity, she certainly wasn't going to pass it up. Aman walked over to push a couple of tables together so that Daisy could dance on them.

Lily noticed that Mira was looking nervous. "Don't worry, we'll be great!" said Lily. Mira smiled and lifted her flute to her lips, playing a little melody for warm-up. Lily was getting impatient. Now that all was almost ready, she was eager to get going. She heard Willow say "This should go well." Lily heartily agreed.

"Why don't we all go help Aman push the table over? Those are pretty big tables, and Aman looks like she could use some help," Lily said to the group. She started towards Aman, hoping the others would follow.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling suddenly felt a bit foolish in his clothes, for it was clear that Roa did not find them as impressive as he had hoped. At first, he looked about the room, as though for an answer, but when he turned his eyes back to the Woman he saw that while she was unimpressed with the clothes, she had noted the change in him. That made him proud, in an odd way, and the feeling showed on his face. “You are right, Roa – it is foolish of me to take such pride in finery like this. But is has been so long since I had new clothes upon me…I had almost forgotten the feel of it. And new clothes do help a Man feel like a new person. Have you never felt a change of heart with a change of clothes?” He looked at her dress. Privately, he noted how well it brought out the colour of her eyes…

Roa flushed and looked down at her dress, as though seeing it for the first time. “This?” she said, then she laughed with that infectious mirth and Snaveling smiled in return. It was a healthy smile and a sincere one. Toby chortled deep in his throat and listed a bit to one side, Snaveling had to catch him lightly and right him. Roa held out the edge of her cloak and looked back at Snaveling. “I borrowed this for the party. It would not do for me to have come in my travelling garb. Do you like it?”

Something caught in Snaveling’s throat. “Yes,” he muttered past the thickness, “I do.” He cleared his throat and then said, a bit teasingly, “So you too felt the need to appear in better cloth for this party? And you question me wanting new clothes? You saw the rags I arrived in. Were they worthy of this?” and he swept his hand about, indicating the room. Roa laughed once more and agreed that they were not. She looked back at the Man and examined his clothes again, but something caught her eye: the amulet that he wore about his neck. She had seen it before, but always it had been sullied and half hidden by the ragged ends of his tunic and cloak. Now that it was polished and lay open in the centre of his chest, backed only by the rich black of his clothes, she could see it clearly. Roa leaned in a bit closer to see it, and Snaveling recoiled, clasping it in his hand. Roa looked up at him, and Snaveling could not understand why he had reacted as he did. He felt a dread of her looking at the amulet, and he did not know why.

Roa held out her hand, her eyes moving ever so slowly from curiosity to command. “May I see that, Snaveling. Please?” For a moment Snaveling considered refusing, but he remembered that he was still bound to her for justice, and as he looked at her eyes he realised that he could refuse nothing she commanded. He lifted the amulet from about his neck and handed it to her. It felt as heavy as lead.

Roa took it in her hands and turned it over in the light. It was ancient and made of an odd metal that shone like silver… Roa gasped. “Mithril!” she said. “Why this amulet is made of pure mithril! Where did you get it?”

Snaveling paused before answering, the unexplainable dread growing in his mind like panic. “It has always been mine. I did not steal it, if that is what you mean!” He could have bitten his tongue out for such an answer, and to make amends he answered more civilly. “It is an heirloom. My uncle gave it to me before I left home. It’s supposed to be from the First Days – when our people first returned to Middle-Earth from across the Sea.”

“You say ‘returned’” Roa replied slowly, her eyes growing hard. “You said once before that your people were related to the Black Numenoreans. Is it of them that you speak?” Snaveling shrugged. In truth, he knew little about his heritage, for his people were hunters and not loremasters. Roa looked back at the amulet and peered at it as closely as she could. “There is a device engraved on it,” she said, almost to herself. “It looks like…” She dropped it to the table as though it were a burning coal. “I know that device!” she said like iron. “Seven stars above a crown: the device of Ar-Pharazôn, last king of the Numenoreans; the Golden King who lead the Men of the West to their destruction and who lies now in the Caves of the Forgotten until the breaking of the world!”

Snaveling stared at Roa, shocked by her rage. Toby opened his eyes and looked back and forth between Man and Woman. “Is that bad?” he asked in a small voice.

Roa’s eyes blazed. “Ar-Pharazôn was the fool and lapdog of Sauron. It was he who destroyed the glory of Numenor and lead her to ruin. And you, Snaveling, bear his device and claim it as an heirloom. How did your family come by it, and what manner of people are you…” Her eyes grew wide at the suddenness of a horrible idea. She leaned forward and glared at Snaveling with all the intensity of her people’s will. “Tell me Man of the South. You’ve said many times that you’ve wandered the wastes of Middle-Earth for years uncounted. But you do not appear so old. I would deem you a man in his early forties.” She paused again and fixed Snaveling with her eyes. “How old are you Snaveling?”

The Man felt suddenly hot and confused. What did that matter? He cast about again but Roa’s eyes drew him back to her. He struggled to resist them, but it was pointless. Imperceptibly, his shoulders sagged. “Seventy-eight,” he whispered. “I am seventy-eight.”

[Witch_Queen]

Aduthondiel
The elf was tired of waiting around to talk to Aman. The party was well under way and all she wanted to do was ride her horse where no one would disturb them. Adu refilled her mug and walked towards the stables so she could see how Count was. Adu saw that Count was fine actually it seemed that for once in his life the horse was finally at peace. That is fine my friend since it seems that we will not have to worry about fighting a war anytime soon. You can finally rest my old friend. After all we have been together for so many years.

Since her horse was fine Adu turned back towards the inn walking slowly so she could enjoy what peace she could find. I'm not use to celebrations like this. Plus it seems like the musicians are about to begin playing. It will only end in another day alone. Everything seemed better to her now that she had gotten some fresh air. Adu's mug was half empty now and she didn't know whether or not she should refill it. Too much ale is bad for an elf. Better stop now while I'm ahead. She looked around to see that Aman and the "band" was moving some tables. They can't do it all by themselves. Better help them before they get hurt. "Could you use some help with those tables?" Adu didn't wait for an answer. The tables were heavier than they looked. It was either that or she had definatley drunk too much ale. "Aman can I speak with you for a moment? That is if you can spare a few seconds."

[Galadel Vinorel]

Soon we shall play, thought Galadel, oh how my hands long to play. Her hand once again ran the length of her flute as Aman began to move the tables around for them to play, sing and dance.

Beside the elf she heard one of the hobbit lasses, Lily say, "Why don't we all go help Aman push the table over? Those are pretty big tables, and Aman looks like she could use some help." Lily stood up and began to walk towards Aman. Galadel stood up at well, looking over at the other hobbit girls.

"Do not worry about playing in front of the crowd. I am sure that you all will do well," Galadel said to them, smiley reassuringly down at them. Then she added softly, as if to herself,"It will be good to play here again, after so many years." Shaking herself as if from a dream, Galadel reached down a hand to help Mira stand up. "Come my fellow flute player. Let us help Aman move those tables so that those butterflies in your stomach may calm down a bit," said Galadel, winking at the hobbit, "By the way, I believe that I forgot my manners and did not tell you all my name. I am Galadel of the Lothlorien, and I am pleased to meet all of you." The elf bowed her head cordially as she said this.

She then straightened and moved towards Aman and Lily to help move the tables. Out of the corner of her eye the elf saw Roa and Tobias sitting with a transformed Snaveling in their midst. In Roa's hand she held Snaveling's amulet, now throughly polished and shining like new. Even from afar Galadel could feel the air of fear and mystery that was surrounding the three at the moment. Something is terribly wrong, I must go over there when I am finished playing, thought Galadel.

But suddenly Galadel stopped in midstride. She began to shake. Someone was calling to her through the mind. Turning, she faced Roa, who was staring directly at her. Silently Roa was screaming at her, for something was very wrong. Entering Roa's mind, with her permission, the elf searched through her last few memories and thoughts.

Roa took it in her hands and turned it over in the light. It was ancient and made of an odd metal that shone like silver… Roa gasped. “Mithril!” she said. “Why this amulet is made of pure mithril! Where did you get it?”

Snaveling paused before answering, the unexplainable dread growing in his mind like panic. “It has always been mine. I did not steal it, if that is what you mean!” He could have bitten his tongue out for such an answer, and to make amends he answered more civilly. “It is an heirloom. My uncle gave it to me before I left home. It’s supposed to be from the First Days – when our people first returned to Middle-Earth from across the Sea.”

“You say ‘returned’” Roa replied slowly, her eyes growing hard. “You said once before that your people were related to the Black Numenoreans. Is it of them that you speak?” Snaveling shrugged. In truth, he knew little about his heritage, for his people were hunters and not loremasters. Roa looked back at the amulet and peered at it as closely as she could. “There is a device engraved on it,” she said, almost to herself. “It looks like…” She dropped it to the table as though it were a burning coal. “I know that device!” she said like iron. “Seven stars above a crown: the device of Ar-Pharazôn, last king of the Numenoreans; the Golden King who lead the Men of the West to their destruction and who lies now in the Caves of the Forgotten until the breaking of the world!”

Snaveling stared at Roa, shocked by her rage. Toby opened his eyes and looked back and forth between Man and Woman. “Is that bad?” he asked in a small voice.

Roa’s eyes blazed. “Ar-Pharazôn was the fool and lapdog of Sauron. It was he who destroyed the glory of Numenor and lead her to ruin. And you, Snaveling, bear his device and claim it as an heirloom. How did your family come by it, and what manner of people are you…” Her eyes grew wide at the suddenness of a horrible idea. She leaned forward and glared at Snaveling with all the intensity of her people’s will. “Tell me Man of the South. You’ve said many times that you’ve wandered the wastes of Middle-Earth for years uncounted. But you do not appear so old. I would deem you a man in his early forties.” She paused again and fixed Snaveling with her eyes. “How old are you Snaveling?”

The Man felt suddenly hot and confused. What did that matter? He cast about again but Roa’s eyes drew him back to her. He struggled to resist them, but it was pointless. Imperceptibly, his shoulders sagged. “Seventy-eight,” he whispered. “I am seventy-eight.”

Oh no, thought Galadel, how can this be? Could Snaveling be the heir of Ar-Pharazon? No, no, he does not seem noble enough...but, yet...the amulet

Galadel starred hard at Roa and the woman returned her stare. "What should we do," said Roa into the elf's mind. "Nothing," returned Galadel, "Not until we know more. Do nothing, Roa, until I return to you after playing the song." Roa nodded, and turned back to Tobia and Snaveling.

Galadel sighed and moved once again towards Aman and the others, to move the tables for the singing, playing, and dancing that would soon begin.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman smiled her thanks at the hobbit maids and Aduthondiel as they helped her to push the heavy tabls together with magnificent effort. Looking at their faces, she saw underneath the nervousness some sort of sparkling anticipation, something which over-rode the anxiousness and inspired the Innkeeper's confidence. Yes, they would be fine, she was sure.

Standing in front of the tables which, as an afterthought, she had brought to a more central position in the room, greeted by puzzled looks from the customers, Aman clapped her hands twice and addressed the people, big and small, all around.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, her Rohirrim accent clear and crisp, causing the room to quiet a little. "We are priviledged tonight to have some extra entertainment for this party - a group of musicians to play for us. I present to you, to celebrate a new era of this Inn, Misses Willow, Daisy, Mira and Lily!"

To the sound of applause, Aman helped the hobbits gracefully onto chairs around the tables and from there onto the tables itself. Willow was last and as Aman helped her up, she held onto her hand for a moment, smiling as the hobbit looked down at her. "Thank you," the Innkeeper whispered.

Turning to one side, Aman looked inquiringly at Aduthondiel as she drew her to one side. "Thank you for your help there, miss - now how can I help you?"