The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[littlemanpoet]

The three hobbits Falco, Gorby, and Anson, as well as the humans Eodwine and Finëwen, having finished their meal and summed up their doings in the Hills of Evendim, retired to the fireplace with their mugs of ale, and pipes.

"Friends," said Eodwine, puffing on his pipe, "good old southfarthing can't be beat, and thank you for introducing me to such a wonderful pastime." The three hobbits nodded 'your welcomes', puffing on their own pipes, sending voluminous rings up to the ceiling. "But right now I do miss my harp. I shall have to find me a new one. Somewhere. I'm afraid it will have to wait until Edoras where there is a good craftsman in stringed instruments. Ah well."

"Maybe," said Gorby, "there's a harp to be found in this inn. And a pipe too!"

"You're puffing on one, silly," Anson grinned.

"No no no! I mean what you can blow tunes out of!" Gorby cuffed Anson one.
*****
Falowik took his leave of Master Jean Peddlar and Peony, and walked up to the bar where Uien still helped Aman with the constant rush of customers. He asked her for that walk they had talked about, and she excused herself. Falowik and Uien walked out the front door, into the closing day.

[Bombadil]

Iadarion was very happy to receive tea from the nice hobbit, and it mended the pain form his hang over a bit.

He was caught off guard though all of a sudden when the shy hobbit Posco spoke and asked of his race.

"Oh, ho! come now!" Iadarion seemed to act as himself again, as if the question intrigued him to the point of forgetting his pains. "Many a time has the question been asked of my father, and many a time has he laughed and turned away. He was, or is, or never was and never is! A riddle my father will remain, but myself I know from where I came! I am the son of the trees and the river, the daughter! They named me Iadarion- the son of the father!"

It was most definitely apparent at that point, if not so before, that Iar was a queer thing indeed.

[Arry]

Alwin sat down in the chair opposite Sarin, thanking him for the ale. He pulled out his own clay pipe and tamped in a goodly pinch of pipe weed. Jack had hopped down from the chair he’d perched on and ran to get a lit straw for his grandfather to light his pipe.

‘We’re bound for Bree, to stay at the Prancing Pony for a bit. I made some good friends there when last I passed through. Then it’s on east to Rivendell, we are hoping. The Elves for the most part have gone from The Last Homely House, there, but there are one or two or so left, I think. And the great library still stands, or so I have heard, and there are still some scrolls and books to poke through.

‘Grandfather is looking for music,’ piped up Jack, wanting to join in the conversation. ‘He plays the harp . . . and sings, too.’

They were in the midst of a pleasant conversation, when the door to the Inn opened twice, and two strangers entered, one following on the heels of the other. The first a rugged looking man. Dark haired, his face in shadows. Green tunic over darker breeches, well worn boots, a ragged cloak. A blade hung at his belt, and he bore a bow and quiver. He seemed at ease in the Inn, despite his worn appearance. Cloak keeping the prying eyes of the others from cataloguing his features too closely, the man took a seat at the bar.

The second man, too, brought with him a certain air of mystery. His cloak was silver, and it shimmered in the lights of the lamps as he walked toward one of the Inn tables and sat down. His hair, too, was of a silvery nature, and his eyes were a captivating blue. They saw him speak for a brief moment with one of the servers, but could not catch his name clearly.

Buttercup came by with a pitcher of fresh ale and filled Sarin’s and Alwin’s mugs. For Jack, she had brought a cup of chilled cider. ‘Lot of Big Folk in the Inn tonight,’ she observed looking also at the latest arrivals. She smiled prettily at Alwin, then, and told him it would be only a little while until she had time to get their room in order.

‘No hurry,’ he assured her, pointing his pipe toward the Sarin and then tapping the bowl of it lightly against his foaming mug. I’ve an interesting companion to talk to, a pipeful of weed, and the finest ale in the Westfarthing.’ Not to mention,’ he said winking at her, ‘the pretty lasses who work at the Inn and the most interesting people who enter it.’

[piosenniel]

GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS:

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

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

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:

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 from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

Fredgar Hornblower – local Shiriff from Hobbiton – played by Fool of a Took
_____________________________________________

Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

[Witch_Queen]

Aduthondiel
Adu didn't know what to think of Isaac's letter. It had sent chills down her spine. She wanted to go after her friend but decided not to. Her life was at the Inn waiting for Hama to return with the good news. Adu was so happy for Crystal. But she didn't want to believe that Crystal's brother had grown so much. It seemed like just the other day she was setting there watching the two of them play as children.

Adu knew she had gotten old, even though she didn't look it she felt it deep down inside her. To her it was only the other day Hama had left but it felt like eternity. She waited to hear something from him. Adu wanted to go out and meet Hama but wasn't sure if that would be wise. She turned to Crystal and gave them her goodbye. She had to go find Hama and see where he was. Adu mounted Count and rode off from the Inn in search of Hama.

[Nurumaiel]

The first glimmer of boldness and recklessness flickered into Posco's eyes and shone there with a fervor. It came from one thing... the recklessness he felt when concerned with riding. Back in his hometown in Buckland the young lads about his age were frequently holding races and then was the time Posco become assertive and fierce. Nothing daunted him then, but all caution was thrown to the wind to be tossed amid the tree that was the finish line.

"Ride!" he repeated, chuckling in delight. "I love to ride, Miss Lily. My pony is the fastest in Buckland, or so I believe." He sat back and relived the thrills of racing, heard the pounding of hoofs on the worn dirt roads, the sight of the dust flying up and the flared nostrils of the ponies, and the cries of encouragement from the riders to their horses. Closer and closer to the finish line, and then he would cross first. Always first.... Almost always.

The realization that he had often fallen into a lower place brought recollection to his mind that he was talking with a pretty young hobbit lass he didn't know very well and that he had been bolder than ever, and urging to ask her a question, nay, make a request of her, embarrassed him still. There was nothing for it. He'd be tormented for the rest of his life if he didn't. He leaned slightly forward so she could still hear him if he spoke low. He didn't wish anyone else to hear. "Miss Lily?" he said, his voice once again shy and timid. "If you don't mind... er... oh, would you please go out riding with me some time?"

[Sarin Mithrilanger]

Sarin yawned anhd suddenly remembered just how tired he was. "Well I hate to be the one to bring an end to a good evening, but I am tired. Perhaps we shall speak again another time."

Sarin walked up to the landlord and rented a room. Without thinking Sarin wandered off to his room and slumped into his bed. Sleep quickly seized him, and he fell into sleep thinking only of the vast Mountains and the glory of his father's battles.

[Sirithheruwen]

Twylight thought Iadarion seemed all right, but she wasn't sure. She might have excused herself then and there if Iadarion had not started to call for another ale. She grabbed his arm firmly with long slender fingers and pushed him gently back into his seat. He shrugged his shoulders, unperturbed, and accepted the tea Bingo had brought back from the counter with him.

Twylight glanced over at Lily and saw that she shared the look of disgust that all the other hobbits in the Inn looked upon Iadarion with. Did Lily know Iadarion? "What are you?" Twylight looked over at Posco, somewhat surprised at this abrupt outburst. She didn't think that he had ever strung more than three words together while in her prescence. "I do mean, you are one of the Big Folk, that much is obvious, but are you a Man or are you... are you an Elf?" He turned a magnificent shade of red, and swiveled to face Iadarion. "And what race are you?" He turned to Lily. "And what race are you?" He turned to Marcho. "And what race are you?" He gazed wide-eyed in horror at his blunder. Sliding farther down in his seat, nothing more of him could be seen above his nose, all of which was now a magnificent shade of magenta.

Marcho stood. "Interesting and very good questions," he said. "If we are all to become friends perhaps we might as well know. As you can see Bingo, Posco, and I are Hobbits. What are you? Now excuse me." Twylight followed him surreptitiously with her eyes. When he reached the counter, he burst into gales of laughter. Twylight was shaking with fury now as she saw tears of mirth stream down his cheeks. She had turned a shade of red much akin to Posco's, and she fought to keep her hand steady as she wrote; in the backround Iadarion was informing them all about his father and how he was the son of the river. It was, as she would have known if she was listening at the time, the same speech he had treated her to when they first met.

I am indeed of the race of men. But your question is justified, as my clothes are of Elvish make. You see, I lived in Rivendell for some time before I took to traveling.

She indicated the shimmery material of her leggings and tunic, and the midnight-blue cloak hanging over the back of her chair. Marcho had not come back yet, but she could no longer see him, for he had disappeared behind a dark and rugged stranger that was sitting at the bar. She had not seen him before, so she supposed he had just come in. But she gave no more thought to the man, for she turned to listen to Lily's response to Posco's flustered question.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman felt an air of slight hopelessness settle on her as she realised she probably couldn't respond without either lying or causing offence. And Aman had never particularly liked lying...

"I'm afraid I cannot return your affections, Bredan," she blurted out. "My heart...belongs to another."

There was an awkward silence between the pair of them. Aman felt quite as startled as Bredan's face suggested he was. So now both of them were rather in a dilemma: the Gondorian had poured out his feelings and been put down, and Aman had to work out who exactly this mystery lover of hers was.

The fact there wasn't one simply made things a little more complicated at her end.

Bredan's face hardened suddenly and Aman saw his hand move towards his sword as his eyes darkened and he turned to scan the Common Room stormily. "Who? Who is this man who holds your heart? I will..." With horror, Aman saw his eyes settle on Eodwine, who still sat in at the crowded table by the fire, his eyes shining as he told his stories from far and wide.

"No!" Aman dived hastily forward, grabbing Bredan's arm, then hoping it would come across as a gently placatory hand. A brawl was all she needed really, . "I mean...no, Bredan, please - he is not here."

Oh, isn't he? Well, that's a start, I suppose...at least you won't have to start professing undying love to Eodwine, the poor man would probably be a little confused, to say the least...

"Oh? Then who is he, this....man?" Bredan spat, his hand still on his belt, but apparently distracted by Aman's hand. Suddenly realisation seemed to dawn on his face and a sort of resignation settled there. "It is he, isn't it?"

"...He?" Aman replied gently, genuinely mystified.

"This...Snaveling character, the one who left yesterday," Bredan replied, sighing as he turned towards the bar again, apparently calmer now. He rested his hand upon Aman's, then looked up at her, deep brown eyes looking into her own. "But he has gone, Aman, and while he has gone...?" he let the comment turn into a question and gave a small, cheeky grin, winking. Aman's eyebrows shot up and she laughed quietly, unable to help herself, then shook her head, looking down, as if it was a regretfu gesture.

"I'm sorry, Bredan," she replied softly. The Gondorian's eyes remained on hers, then he sighed again and removed his hand, looking away around the room once more.

"I suspected as much, Aman," he admitted, sadly, then sighed again. Aman felt slightly guilty at lying - but not so much that she would take it back. Maybe more could have happened as it could with anyone, but...I don't know this man...I know, in fact, remarkably little, so I do not regret what is not a lie.

"If...if you'll excuse me, Master Bredan," she replied, in an attempt to escape the awkward situation. Slipping around the bar, she hurried outside before he could gather himself and protest, heading for the stables where she had seen Uien slip away to - maybe a less confusing situation may await there...

[Firefoot]

Lily's heart went out to Posco as he asked his flustered question. She had realized that he was shy almost from the moment she had seen him, but he seemed rather overwhelmed. She didn't think much of it when Marcho got up and walked over behind the counter, and almost forgot about it listening to Iadarion's strange answer. Lily decided that not only was he a drunkard, but he was also quite mad. She was trying her hardest not to stare at him strangely and with some disgust.

She leaned over to read Twylight's parchment, for she herself had been rather curious as to whether she was Elf or Man. She got no further than the first sentence before she heard the sound of laughter. It was coming from where Marcho had gone, and though she didn't think it was him, she planned to go check.

She looked at Posco closely. "Well, I am a hobbit from Bree," she said softly, hoping to soothe the shy hobbit a bit. "Now if you would excuse me for a moment," she said, standing up. She walked over to where whe had watched Marcho go, and found him behind the bar laughing so hard he was coughing. Suddenly Lily's normally calm temper burst.

"I don't know what kind of hobbit you are," she said, her voice no less fierce or angry for its softness, "that you would leave your friend like that. Even I could see that he is quite shy and, judging by his question, overwhelmed by all the people here. You are his friend; I would think that instead of coming over here to laugh at him, you would try to calm him down." Lily paused for breath, but when she saw Marcho's mouth open to speak, she went right on. "I don't want to hear your excuses, because frankly, I can't see any that would excuse you. All I have to say is that coming over here and laughing is about the worst thing you could have done for your friend." Lily turned on her heel and walked away from the stunned hobbit. She returned to the group and sat down, forcing herself to smile for their sakes.

[Faragorn]

Faragorn sat at his cherry wood table still after a many hours waiting. Soon, he knew, some man or woman would find him sitting in the far southwest corner of the Inn. As he watched others pass through the doors he noticed that it had already become late afternoon. The howling wind picked up and a branch from a maple tree began abrading against one of the thick glass panes.

As he observed the Inn he noticed a man that was apparently finding him to his interest, but looked away, not to let the stranger find that he too was examining him. Soon later he found himself once more staring at the man as he watched a woman approach him. She had a large sized cup that she handed to him with great ease. Apparently they had already been acquainted. They spoke little, but over the shouting and gathering in the old inn he found himself not being able to hear a word.

Faragorn had thought for a moment that their eyes met. Realizing this he turned his head and looked no more. His head went back into the direction towards the door. He once more waited…

[Kitanna]

Peony left Jean not long after Falowik had left them. She spent some time talking to Deva who had ulimately gone for a nap. Lazy dwarf. She kept thinking over and over to herself.

Now a man sitting in the corner, Faragorn. He looked rather lonely, or possibly like he was waiting for someone. Either way Peony approached with her usual smile on her face. "Good evening sir. You looked as though you needed someone to talk to just sitting here all by yourself. Would you like some company?"

[Nurumaiel]

Marcho's face turned red with rage and he scowled at Lily's back before whirling back to the counter. He saw that Ruby stood not too far away, eyeing him carefully and waiting for his reaction. He took three deep breaths and then muttered to her, his voice filled with restrained anger, "Did you hear what she said to me?"

"Yes," said Ruby, "and I apologize for hearing, as perhaps it might be considered eavesdropping. I do think she's right, you know."

"It's different because Posco is my little cousin."

"How is it different because he's your little cousin? Isn't he still your friend, and don't you still want to help him? In fact you should feel more obligated to help him because he's your relative."

Marcho's whole form was trembling with rage but he restrained himself and waved Ruby away. "Go back to the table where that Falco is," he said. "I think you're needed more there than you are here. And besides, you might find them more of pleasant company that I, a grouchy, mean old hobbit." He felt a sudden and strange sadness come over him as he remembered the way he had studied Bingo before, and how the latter always looked at everyone kindly while he was exactly that... a grouchy, mean old hobbit. He hoped his thoughts did not show on his face. He would not want Ruby to notice. She did not stay any longer but went back to Falco's table. Marcho sat in a chair by the counter and buried himself in his own anger and resentment.

Posco was immensely relieved that no one had been angry at him for his questions, and he straightened about the slightest bit. He felt comforted by Lily's presence, the presence of another hobbit who spoke kindly to him and tried to comfort him. As he looked into her smiling face he suddenly thought that she was rather pretty like most hobbit lasses, and he become suddenly aware of his dishevelled hair, his torn clothes, and his muddy face. He cast a glance towards Blanco, smooth and sociable and very neat and tidy, listening with wide eyes to the tales of the adventurers at the other table. He began feeling miserable again and stared weakly at Lily, muttering in a voice barely audible, "You must think me an awful sight."

[Faragorn]

Faragorn looked up to see a woman standing there, next to the table. She offered him some company. He accepted with his eyes still wandering around to see if anyone was watching. “I can only speak for a while for I have places to see, places to discover, and most of all I have to finish my brandy.”

With that said he called the waitress over and asked for another brandy. He pulled out a chair and invited her to sit down with him. Maybe he would make a new friend.