The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling paused for a moment on the window-ledge unsure if it were wise to follow the far more agile Innkeeper on to her precarious seat. But the prospect held by the excitement in her voice was irresistible, so holding his breath he followed her as best he could. His movements were far clumsier than hers had been, and had it not been for Aman’s quick reflexes and ready hand he would have fallen. But after much scrambling he was on the roof and looking out at the land as he had been directed.

It was, indeed, a breath-taking sight. He had scaled the White Mountains in his youth in pursuit of prey, but had never taken the time to enjoy the view that it afforded of the low lands between them and the Sea. Once, many years ago, he had crossed the Misty Mountains and seen the lands of Eriador laid out beneath his feet, but that land – for all its beauty – had been wild and empty, with only the occasional ruin to mark that any had lived there. This land, however, was full of people and cultivation. As far as his eye could see there were the signs of industry and harvest, of happily ordered villages and sensible roads. He understood then what Aman meant when she warned him against his chosen course of action. For this land, as remarkable as it might be, was only a small portion of the world over which the King Elessar ruled; it reflected only in the smallest part the order, wisdome and might with which he ruled his lands. Far to the South he knew that there were more and more lands like this, peopled with Men who would regard Snaveling and all that he represented as a threat to the well-ordered industry and society that they had built.

He turned to Aman. A gentle wind stirred their hair, lifting and mixing the strands together. The sun shone bright, but Snaveling could see on the horizon, and fast approaching, clouds that threatened rain. “I believe I understand what you are trying to tell me with this view, my friend. But I am afraid that I will not be deterred from this. One way or another, word of me will reach the King. If he is, as you fear, sworn to my destruction, then will he not send for me? If I am to die for who I am, I would rather that it come at a time and place of my own choosing, and not at the end of an assassin’s blade on a lonely road, unseen and unremarked. I know what you will say next, that I should present myself to the King in humility, and beg his indulgence. This is, I admit, something that I have done before, when pressed. But I will not do so now. I have told you already, and I will tell you again, that I will not seek to press my claim to the throne. But I will not deny who I am, nor will I give up on the dreams that have been my reason for living, now that their realisation stands so near at hand!”

Aman saw the determination in his face and sighed lightly in apparent defeat. “Snaveling, my friend, I do not think you do understand fully…but I see that you are not to be deterred.”

“No,” he said, “I am not. But do not despair for me – and strange it is indeed to me that you should! The crimes that you speak of are long in the past, and were practised by Men about whom I know practically nothing. Surely that will matter for something in the eyes of the King? The past means little to my people, and while I know that this is not true for other Men, I will continue to hope that I will be judged for what I have done with my own life, and not for who came before me. But there, Aman, if you wish to despair of my fate, then there is much that I have done for you to worry about. Am I not bound to Roa to appear before her King for judgement of my attempt upon her life? While such a matter may appear trivial to a High King when set alongside the enmities of history, I assure you that it is a far weightier matter to me than all the ancient tales put together!” The mention of Roa drove his mind back to his purpose in seeking out Aman. Looking back out upon the landscape, he began carefully. “It was about Roa that I wished to speak with you, Aman. I am afraid that she feels much as you did – that I wish to challenge her King. I fear, in fact, that she sees me now as a blood enemy. This causes me…regret – and I do not wish to feel such, regret. Do you think there might be some way for me to reassure her of my intentions? For as I am bound to her, I feel it my duty to be clear and honest. And,” he paused for a moment before resuming, “it is important to me that Roa understand my mind fully.”

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman glanced at Snaveling from behind her wind-whipped hair, before pulling it back and twisting it over her shoulder in one hand. "Bound to Roa..." she murmured. Snaveling looked sharply at her and she gathered her wits quickly.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that you are...bound to her. Her promise certainly. But-" she stopped, debating whether to tell him what she suspected the ranger woman felt. What if she raised a false hope, only to be dashed? She wasn't sure he was ready for that - when depressed or drunk, she had already found Snaveling to be dangerous. And besides, what was to say she wasn't wrong.

"But..."

"But...well, have you discussed it with her, Snaveling? No, don't dismiss it immediately. How do you know what she feels unless you have asked her?" The Innkeeper paused, looking back at Snaveling until the man looked away, his dark eyes roving over the hills far away. Shifting slightly, the Innkeeper drew her knees up a little on the sloping roof, rearranging her skirt as she thought then placing them carefully together on top of her knees. She looked back at the Man. "Snaveling, you must discuss it with her. And if nothing else...well, at least there will no longer be this fear and doubt. You will know her mind clearly, and that, at least, is something, if not something much.

"I am glad you understood why I took you up here, although I regret that you will not be swayed. But to march up to the king and ask for..." she trailed off, looking away. It was true that she understood Snaveling, but somehow she still feared for him. Strange, Aman - he is of the Hunters, more than capable of looking after himself. But still: Aman had seen something in Snaveling in the evening in her study when he had poured out his heart to her, and it was something that others did not see, something behind the hard-faces villain or mysterious figure in gentleman's clothes that others saw. Maybe Roa had seen one side but, whatever Aman felt, she wished for Snaveling's sake that Roa had seen the same side as Aman.

"Still, what do I know of kings and ancients?" she grinned cheekily then became more solemn again, her voice soft and sincere. "Talk to her, Snaveling. Tell her truthfully, do not hide behind riddles and mystery - you are apt at it, and that is not an insult! But...but you need to give her something more. Talk to her alone, as you have talked to me on here - tell her what you told me. If she does not believe you..." she shook her head, shrugging. "Go to Gondor with her anyway. If words will do nothing for her, actions will surely speak louder."

Resting her head back against her shoulders and neck, Aman spread her arms against the wind, her sleeves, wide skirt and hair blowing back in the wind as she closed her eyes. The tantalising smell of cooking food swept up in the breeze and the Innkeeper opened her eyes slowly, turning to Snaveling, who was watching her. "Ruby is going to skin me alive if I tarry for very much longer, my friend. Listen, bear in mind my words, please - all of them, Snaveling," she added meaningfully. He contemplated her for a second with that dark, enigmatic gaze, then nodded slowly. She smiled, then rose, holding out her arms to balance as she walked towards the edge of the roof with the confidence and agility of a cat.

"Then come, Snaveling - you just managed to get up, lets see how you manage getting down again. You cannot be that much older than me - lets see how one of your position can rival a horse-maiden of Rohan," she teased.

[Angel_Queen]

Ravon
Ravon woke up and pushed the covers off of herself. She was glad it was the next day. With her eyes still covered in sleep she began to walk around the room until she tripped over someone. She rubbed her eyes to see that Lewis was still asleep. Ravon wasn't sure if she should wake him or not.

She quickly got dressed and decided that it was time for Lewis to get up. She walked over to him and gently shook the sleeping figure. Memories from the party still lingered in her head. Ravon could remember the dance they had shared together and how wonderful she had felt being in his arms. Even though her mind wanted to pass it off as a dream Ravon wouldn't let it.

"Lewis, dear wake up. It is morning already and you don't want to sleep all day now do you?" Lewis rolled over and Ravon began to smile. No matter how many times she had seen him wake up, Ravon still loved that part the best. She layed her hand in his as his eyes began to open. "Good morning, my dear Lewis of Rohan. I hope you sleeped well."

It had been a while since Ravon had her nightmare. Even though it had been a long time she still felt that it would haunt her for forever. Her life was at the best time she had ever had it. She had Lewis with her now and nothing or no one was going to take him away from her. At least thats what she thought. Ravon ran her hand along the ring she had given him the day that had met. Ravon never wanted her life with Lewis to end.

[SonOfBombadil]

Lewis woke up. And when he opened his eyes he could see sunlight coming throught the window. He could also see the most beautiful face looking into his. He smiled. "Good morning, my dear Lewis of Rohan. I hope you slept well." Ravon said to him in a happy voice.

"Well yes, I did sleep well. Until I was so rudely woken up just now." Lewis said, jokingly. Lewis then shot a devilish little smile up at Ravon, and then he pulled her down to where he was. They play-wrestled for a minute, laughing all the while. "Well I guess I'll get up." Lewis said after a while. "If you wish it so."

"Well I do." she answered with her gorgeous smile.

"Alright, I'll get up." he said, "If you want to head on down and get some breakfast, I'll be down in a minute." She gave him a look. "I promise! How could I fall back asleep with all this sun streaming in here!" Satisfied, Ravon left the room. Lewis got up and got dressed, all the while thinking of how wonderful Ravon is.

[nynnd1]

Bredan was on his sixth mug of ale, and still going steady. He could feel people looking at him disapprovingly, he guessed for drinking this early and also drinking this much this early. The Hobbit lass behind the bar came near enough to him for Bredan to request what he had been requesting throughout the morning, though it was not what he really needed. A clear head would have served Bredan better, especially with his current circumstance, he was just about to find out what Miss Aman thought about him when they had been rudely interrupted, he had made up his mind, or rather the drink had made up his mind for him.

He had decided that Snaveling was an old flame of Aman’s, they had an argument, all Snaveling’s fault obviously. And now Snaveling felt jealous of Bredan getting close to Aman, for he saw the look in Aman’s eyes directed to Bredan. Bredan himself was not to sure what the look was, but Bredan after a few drinks was certain that she liked him. Bredan looked around the inn, people enjoying there selves, eating breakfast, talking about him and staring like he was some animal to be looked upon, in the corner there was a couple, laughing and kissing each other, Bredan could feel jealousy breaking down the walls of his heart and consuming him.

The door opened and a mass of morning light shot through and hit Bredan’s eyes, he squinted and turned away, blinking to try and get the light from his eyes.

“I will have another drink now please maid” Bredan directed his speech at the maid, he had started to slur his words, and his vision was no longer perfect.

“If you must” was the reply.

“Well I must, for this morning the ale is acting as a killer of pain for my heart”, or so Bredan thought all it was doing was raising jealousy and anger in his mind and heart. Bredan drank this one a lot quicker than any he had drunk before, as this thought stuck in his head.

“And another please” he slurred out to the maid.

“I think you have had enough” she said back.

“Oh ok.” His voice getting louder. “ You know when I have had enough, but is my custom not welcome here, am I not good enough for your service,” Bredan waited to collect his thought’s. “I have had enough.” He said getting up.

[piosenniel]

Please Note:

Time will move forward in the Inn tomorrow, Monday, early a.m.

At present it is mid-morning.

Tomorrow it will be moved to mid-afternoon.

Thanks!

~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Son of Númenor]

“Who am I?”

“I’ve no notion who you are, but what you are seems plain enough: a feckless vagrant, that's what!” said a voice in reply.

“Well, since you’ve no notion who I am, and I’ve no notion who I am either, I can only beg you to help me stand up, and perhaps offer me a cup of tea,” said the nameless man at length, cracking open his eyes and propping himself up on one sore elbow.

“Lor bless me, the nerve of some people these days!” cried a fat, chestnut brown hobbit. “You’ve had a good night’s rest on the top of my flower patch! Mrs. Longholes will grind you into mulch when she sees this! And you've got the boldness to ask me for tea?”

“I wouldn’t call it a good night’s rest,” said the nameless man. “Would you be so kind as to help me up at least?”

“I would,” said the hobbit, “but only because you are squatting in my wife’s favorite patch. If I saw you in the same shape anywhere else, I’d leave you for dead!”

The hobbit extended his plump, earthy hand. With more than a little effort, the nameless man lifted his much larger gloved hand and clasped the hobbit’s. Then, with a great sigh, he began to heave himself up off the ground. The task proved quite difficult, with the hobbit huffing and grunting as he pulled the much heavier Man. In the end, the hobbit’s efforts were in vain, and the nameless man had to summon all his strength to stand himself up.

“There, you’re up, and you’ve done in my back for good!” said the hobbit, glaring up at the man. “Now be off, and learn to respect other folk’s property.”

“No cup of tea?” asked the man, rubbing the back of his head and standing hunched over. He was a messy sight, his face haggard, his brown beard unkempt and his long dark hair clinging to his head in greasy disarray.

“Why you—you’d be lucky if I gave you a cup of spiders from my garden!” said the hobbit through clenched teeth.

“Very well,” said the man. “Can you direct me to an inn?”

“The Green Dragon’s just a short way down the street. Now be off, before I call Hal Whitfoot!”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” said the nameless man. Acting on some foggy recollection, he pulled four gold coins out of the left pocket of his tattered coat and handed them to the hobbit. “Perhaps that will pay for a few begonia seeds to replace the ones I slept on,” he said with a smile, and then was off.

He wandered down the unpaved road, past hobbit holes, garden patches and an old mill. The sun was still rising in the pale sky, and gusty wind was blowing from the east. Looking out from the vantage point of a small hill beside the path, he saw storm clouds brewing in that direction, riding the wind towards the Shire.

The Green Dragon was around a bend, a few yards removed from the path. The nameless man walked through the creaky front door, crouching to avoid hitting his head. Instantly, he was greeted with the smell of fried eggs, tomatoes and sausages, mingled with the stale odor of Longbottom Leaf smoked the night before.

“Good morning and welcome to the Green Dragon,” said a staggeringly beautiful and entirely unexpected woman. “Are you seeking lodging, breakfast or both?” she said, smiling pleasantly.

“Just a cup of tea,” stammered the man, feeling slovenly and intrusive.

“Have a seat at any table you choose,” said the tall, strikingly golden-haired young woman. “As you can see, we’re not particularly busy now- elevensies has just past, and lunch won’t be served for an hour or so. My name is Aman. What shall I call you?”

Unsure of what to say, the nameless man placed his hands in his pockets, fidgeting with the contents. His hand touched something strange, a hard sliver that chilled his palm even through his thick leather glove. Pulling it out, he saw that it was a small shard from a blade, with faded runes still visible on its dulled surface. A flood of images swept through his mind, with no clear pattern and no clear theme. Visions played out before his eyes of two riders on horseback, the mouth of a cave, a flash of metal and a man lying motionless on the ground, propped against the gnarly trunk of a great tree.

“Your name?” said Aman, looking rather uneasily at her guest. He came out of his momentary trance.

“Úmarth,” he replied grimly, feeling the name come to his lips from he knew not where.

“Have you been long in the Shire?”

“Long enough to be familiar with the Halflings, their land and their ways, at least, or so it seems,” he said at length. “At any rate, I think I may need to make accomodations for lodging after all. And I’ll take a pint of ale with my tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman inclined her head with a slightly bemused, polite smile. "A...pint of ale and some tea, coming up, sir," she replied, as if this was the most ordinary request in the world, before she turned towards the bar to fulfil the request.

Having come down from the roof with Snaveling about half an hour ago, Aman had been surprised and relieved that Ruby did not actually intend to skin her alive - indeed, the hobbit actually seemed gratified that Aman was still in Middle Earth, as she had been utterly unable to locate the Innkeeper. As for Aman, despite having been Innkeeper for what amounted to many months at the Inn, she was not entirely sure about who was actually in charge, her or her hobbit servers, and was strangely glad that Ruby hadn't told her off, something she had, ironically, expected.

It had taken some doing to get Snaveling down from the roof - he had been slightly worse at descending than ascending even, and once more had nearly fallen. He had certainly left the Innkeeper with a few things to muse on, anyway - for one thing, what was that secretive, knowing smile he had given her when she had said he 'couldn't be much older than she was'. Most odd.... The Man had taken his leave of her not long afterwards, vanishing, and Aman had not seen him since. Neither had she seen Bredan - and that was disquieting. She was worried about the impulsive Gondorian man...

Taking the pretty, dinky clay kettle off the stove just inside the kitchen as it came to the boil, Aman poured some into a teapot and let the brew stew for a few moments while she drew a pint of ale - this new man's second request. Taking teapot and cup in one hand and pint in the other, hooked a ready milk-jug with a spare finger before depositing the lot elegantly before Umarth and rearranging them into a neater order. "There you go, sir, some of the cook's finest Mulberry tea."

"Mulberry? Hmm." The single syllable seemed approving as the man took the cup, although his smile seemed rather worried still.

"Shall I put it on a tab, sir?"

A pause followed. Umarth seemed entirely taken up by stirring his tea.

"Sir?"

Evidently, there was something hypnotic about the stirring. However, much as it may have been Aman's heart's dearest, deepest wish to stand and watch the man stir his tea, the Innkeeper could feel her tired mind slowly being dragged into it's steamy depths... She tried again.

"Umarth?" she ventured this time. The man jerked up as if suddenly waking, looking a little confused for a split second as he peered at Aman. "A tab, sir?" Aman prompted.

"Ah yes....yes," he replied vaguely. Aman withdrew the hefty logbook from under the bar and slipped it onto the bartop in front of the man, to one side of his various beverages, producing a pen from her skirt and flicking deftly to the right page. "Alright, if you could sign here, and put your name in the Common...are you sure you're quite alright, Umarth?" The last part was added as she peered at the man's face. Frankly, she was curious - there was something very odd about this stranger. No doubt he'll fit right in...