The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Saurreg]

Ascasir was mildy surprised to hear that the newcomer was a captain of the secretive Galadhrim - foremost of the elven warriors that remained on these shores still. He had met some elves of Celeborn's Household before his travels begun and was impressed by their dignified bearing and the manner in which they conducted themselves - proud but not arrogant and calm but not aloof. Ascasir was no less impressed by the handsome Isilmë who seemed to possess a certain charisma like that of Lord Carahnwë.

'So, have you always been staying in Eryn, what drove you off on the long road to get here?' the newcomer suddenly asked.

Ascasir took a sip of the weak but favoursome brew and held Isilmë with his gaze,

"Perhaps curiosity and idle hands, friend Isilmë. I was a servant of great Carahnwë; a champion of Taur-nu-Fuin who has departed for the undying Lands and since then, I have been free without any cares or responsibilities. And the answer to the first part of your question is yes, I have never left Eryn Lasgalen before. I never intended to travel but when a dear acquaintance invited me to visit him at the great city of stone built on the Anduin, something within my bossom stirred and I could not refuse. Since then I have not looked back and my heart beats warm at the though of further experiences to be gained and new sensations to feel,"

Ascasir concluded and waited to hear what his new friend had to say. As he placed the chipped rim of the fire-dried clay mug to his lips, his eyes caught sight of a lovely elven maiden who was sitting alone at a table not far from where he and Isilmë were. The fair quendi took notice of him, and Ascasir smiled back and dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

Isilmë nodded and felt impressed as Ascasir talked. They had both been servant's but in the past few years they were free from all responsibilities.
'...Since then I have not looked back and my heart beats warm at the though of further experiences to be gained and new sensations to feel.'

'I totally agree with you, my friend.' Isilmë said and nodded.

Isilmë watched how Ascasir sipped his tea and his gaze held him. As Ascasir told him how he'd got here, he also noticed that Ascasir's gaze was drawn to another table where a young maid sat. Isilmë caught his friends gaze again and smiled, then he turned back to the maid and glanced. The maid seemed uncertain and looked down in the wooden table.

Isilmë turned back to Ascasir but noticed that he was still looking at the maid. He giggled and Ascasir turned back to him with a questioning look.

'Oh, nothing.' Isilmë answered him as the glance he got from Ascasir was saying something like; What?

'Well,' Isilmë started again and leaned over the table closer to Ascasir, 'Maybe we should invite her to our table?' His voice was almost a whisper.

'Agree' Ascasir replied.

Isilmë decided to take the initiative about inviting the young maid so he said;
'My lady' Isilmë started and rose up from his chair and bowed, 'would you like to join us here?'

Isilmë turned back to Ascasir that now smiled towards them both.

'I mean, if you want to, my Lady..?' Isilmë added and now felt a little bit dumb and pushy. Hope she won't get upset or something, he thought and blushed.

Ascasir intended to be a much more self-confident person than himself and Isilmë now hoped that he would help him out as the situation didn't look brighter when he blushed.

Ascasir now opened his mouth to say something and Isilmë quickly sat down again, he didn't know why, it was just like an instinct that he couldn't describe. Isilmë awaited him to help him out.

[Saurreg]

Now this is unexpected, mused Ascasir to himself. Elven brows rising again.

Isilmë had stopped himself abruptly without a courteous word of leave-taking to the fair quendi and dropped himself heavily onto the chair. The goodly Galadhrim had turned his back on the confused elven maiden and was facing Ascasir again, who could see clearly that his newly-acquainted friend had mysteriously (and quite suddenly) lost his nerves. A disbelieving look was on Isilmë's face and Ascasir was sure that he was breathing alittle too quickly.

I wonder if all quendi males are having difficulties interacting with members of the fairer sex today, the Silvan wanderer thought to himself as he decided to aid Isilmë in resolving the awkward dilemma.

"If you would be so kind as to allow me, friend Isilmë," offered Ascasir.

Ascasir pushed his chair away from the table effortlessly over the lacquered wooden planks of the tavern floor, got up slowly and made his way to the lovely quendi. The closer he got, the more he was able to make out of the female elf's features.

If Aman the innkeeper was pretty, then this creation of illuvatar's was breathtakingly stunning. Ascasir had seen many other attractive elven females back at Eryn Lasgalen but none could match this sight before him. She was very slender and her simple wood-green garments clinged flatteringly over her feminine body. She was sitting but even then Ascasir could tell that she was tall, statuesque even. Her long lucious dark hair was carefully braided and thus shone brightly in the sunlight with the same lustre of black pearls, like the crystal clear waters of the Enchanted River reflecting quicksilver at night. Around her thin shapely neck, she wore a fine-wought chain that housed an emerald crystal, smartly fitted.

The elven female caught Ascasir looking at her and smiled shyly back with her bright-red lips. Bright piercing eyes met and Culcollo found himself momentarily sucking in his breath and attempting to avert her gaze. Isilmë's reason for floundering could be understood, easily understood.

Regaining his composure quickly, Ascasir stood across the elven lady's table and bowed courteously in a slow delibrate manner,

"Fair maiden whose eyes shine like black fire, Arien comes forth on this day to reward me for all my praises and prayers to Elbereth. For the sun rises today only to allow me a glimpse of you. I, Ascasir Culcollo of Eryn Lasgalen have finally seen beauty and am contented. But should I be so bold and undeserving to request that you grace the table I share with friend Isilmë with your sublime presence? I shall be more than exihilarated if you would consent to my unworthy request."

[starkat]

From her table, Gwenneth watched as the two elves introduced themselves to each other and began talking. She watched them for a bit and then looked around at the other patrons. To her surprise, when her attention returned to the elves they were watching her.

Gwenneth looked down at the table in embaressment. She hoped that she had not offended the two Quendi. When she looked back up, they had leaned in close to each other and seemed to be whispering. When she realized that they were glancing at her, she giggled softly and waited for them to make the next move.

One of them rose and turned to her. "My lady" He started and rose up from his chair and bowed, 'would you like to join us here?"

The elf looked back at his companion and when he turned around, he seemed to become uncomfortable. Confused, Gwenneth watched as he sat back down and his friend stood up. As the second elf walked to her table, Gwenneth gave a cautious smile. I wonder what is going on. Both of them seem nice, but when they start talking they seem to get nervous. When the second elf bowed and began speaking, Gwenneth was impressed at his flowery speech.

"Fair maiden whose eyes shine like black fire, Arien comes forth on this day to reward me for all my praises and prayers to Elbereth. For the sun rises today only to allow me a glimpse of you. I, Ascasir Culcollo of Eryn Lasgalen have finally seen beauty and am contented. But should I be so bold and undeserving to request that you grace the table I share with friend Isilmë with your sublime presence? I shall be more than exihilarated if you would consent to my unworthy request."

Gwenneth had never thought much about her looks. Up until now she had spent more time with horses and learning from her brothers than worrying about how she appeared. She was surprised to learn that the reason both elves seemed nervous was because they found her pretty.

The young elf maid became nervous. Not one to beat around the bush, Gwenneth quickly made up her mind and smiled at both of the elves. "I would be honored to join you Ascasir Culcollo." She rose and walked over to their table. "Thank you Isilmë for your invitation. My name is Gwenneth. I hail from the Grey Havens."

[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

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, the Stablemaster (played by Envinyatar)

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

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.

_____________________________________________

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.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

[piosenniel]

It is nearing noon-time at the Green Dragon Inn. Second-breakfast is still being served. But the fragrant scent of lamb stew is hinting that lunch is nearly ready.

The day is proving to be a fair one so far . . . no clouds on the horizon as yet.

[piosenniel]

~*~ NOTICE OF NEW RPG OPENING ~*~

Crystal Heart invites you to play in her new game:

Seekers of Truth

The Discussion Thread for this game will open to take on characters on 8/15.

Until then, read the proposal carefully and craft an interesting character with a First Post to submit for the game owner’s approval when the thread opens.

See you then!

~*~ Piosenniel

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman eyed the elven man, Ascasir, sidelong as she pulled out a pint for one of the bar customers. Flicking her eyes across to Ruby, who was giving the bar a cursory wipe down, she murmured, "Do you think he flirts with everyone, or is there some selective, generous process here?"

Ruby looked across surreptitiously to the elf where he appeared to be making advances on a slender, dark elven woman sitting with her back to the bar. The hobbit giggled and whispered back, "Jealous."

Aman's eyebrows shot up and she gave a short laugh, finishing off the pint. "Pardon me, Ruby Brown! What would I be jealous of? And not that it is a bad thing either - he flirts quite charmingly, if a little awkwardly." Turning to the customer, a young Breelander, she smiled warmly as she pushed the pint across to him. "Here you are, sir."

"Fli-irt..." Ruby replied in a singsong voice. The Innkeeper picked up the now stationary rag and flapped it at her, frowning exaggeratedly. "Don't you start!"

"Well, it's true!"
"It isn't, as you well know."
"No, it is as I very well know."
"Is."
"It isn't"
"It i-is..."

"Ruby, I refuse to get into this with you," the Innkeeper replied abruptly, rolling her eyes. Ruby regarded her for a second, then contented herself with raising her eyebrows and settling back with an infuriatingly smug expression on her round features. Aman stuck her tongue into her cheek and refused to be riled, grinning slightly. The Common Room door opened and a few cheers made Aman look up out of curiosity. Seeing who it was, she smiled widely and pulled another pint of ale with sudden speed, darting around the bar with her precarious load to the newcomer - Halfred Whitfoot, Shirrif and postman.

"Halfred! Or is it 'Shirrif Whitfoot' for today?"

"Ah, no, just plain ole' Halfred Whitfoot today, Aman," the round faced hobbit replied, panting slightly. Producing a worn pocket hankerchief he dabbed at his red forehead and gave a heavy sigh. "Well, the day is a beautiful one indeed...really builds up a man's thirst..."

Subtlety had never been a strong point of the rotund Shirrif and Aman laughed, handing him the pint of ale - always on the house, for it didn't do to offend to postie, or the Shirrif - and seating him at a nearby table. "There you go, Halfred. Dumpling is in the stables?"

"Of course - you have a new boy, I noticed...?"

"Aye, Merrimac - but hardly new! You should visit us more, Mr Whitfoot - you'll be left behind," she teased. The hobbit chuckled good naturedly and took a long draft of the pint, swallowing half of it at once. Aman hovered beside him, careful not to let her impatience show: Halfred had a habit of dancing around his actual reason for coming, and if you showed any impatience, he usually only dragged the task out more. But today, it seemed, he was in a less teasing mood, for as he put down the pint again he fumbled around and produced two letters from his bag. Squinting at them unsteadily, he looked around and replaced one, then took another long pull at his ale. Aman resisted the urge to fold her arms and raise her eyebrows, and was rewarded with the other letter. Smiling gratefully, she thanked Halfred and returned to the bar, pondering the letter's contents. Taking a small kitchen knife from the odd bits of cutlery under the bar, she slit the letter open tidily and scanned it's contents quickly.

Dearest Aman,

It has been long since we have spoken, hasn't it old friend? I would take time to catch up, but then, what is the point? The subject matter in letters are, after all, quite different from those to be broached face to face.

Aman smiled, recognising the tone of the letter rather than the quick handwriting, written with a light hand so it was quite hard to read on the dark, speckled parchment. Holding it up to the light a little more, she read on:

But no matter, for I think we may be able to meet up rather soon. Although I returned to Gondor those months back (and it has taken me a while to find you - how on earth did you end up in the Shire, my dear?!), my attention was drawn to something that may rather interest you. On the Great East Road (South of that pretty, secretive little backwater you currently reside in), there is to be another of the great markets.

But it is to be larger than usual, I am led to believe, and the goods even more worthy: the farriers are turning out well for it. Some groups of Southerners and Easterlings have moved further into the mainlands, and they have come up, along with groups of Gondorian and Rohirric horsebreeders. I know you have always had an interest in the strange, angular steeds of the Haradrim...

The market will last for a week, and by the time this reaches you, you may have missed some already. Come, Aman - it will be a pleasure to see you once more, although I do not doubt it will be the promises of so diverse a range of horses that will persuade you rather than simply me!

Truly,

Taydoch.

Taydoch... Aman had guessed at the very beginning. The Gondorian author of the letter had been a good friend of hers for several years back in Rohan, taking odd jobs here and there in Inns and shops, before eventually blowing up in the stables with Aman - having bluffed his way in, not actually knowing how to ride. The man was an oddity, a year or two younger than Aman herself - but he had been one of her dearest friends. After he had returned to Gondor, to some family crisis, a few months before Aman left for The Green Dragon, the pair had lost touch. It would be good to see him again.

But bearing in mind the speed of post...Aman grinned determindly and tightened her grip on the letter. Surely Cook wouldn't begrudge her a few days...

Briskly entering the kitchen, Aman found Cook standing by the great fire, stirring a large cauldron of fine smelling stew. Resolving to stay for lunch, the Innkeeper tapped Vinca on the shoulder and handed her the letter, giving a gabbled, eager explanation as the elderly hobbit read the letter over. Vinca took a moment's pause having finished the letter, then folded it very slowly and carefully. Taking off her glasses, she looked up at the Innkeeper - and nodded, smiling. Aman beamed back. "Oh, thankyou, Miss Bunce - I know I may be leaving you in the-"

"Oh, pish posh, I did the same when Zimzi and Derufin went with Pio. And after all, you said this will only be for a few days..."

Aman nodded firmly. "Aye, two, maybe three."

"And you will leave..."

"From the smell of that stew? Well, I shall be hanging around for lunch, that is certain!" The pair laughed and Vinca rolled her eyes as Aman darted back out and upstairs to pack what little she would be taking.

~*~*~

OCC: I will be leaving tomorrow morning on holiday, and will be without internet access for a week I am afraid (I will return late on the evening of Sunday 22nd). Apologies - have fun, and happy writing this week without me!

[Morsul the Dark]

Morsul gloomily looked up towards the Inn he was tired so was his horse, as he tied his horse to a post out side the old man scratched his stubbled chin. He walked into the bar. Inside he admired the great host of people present. Some patrons looked up but most ignored him as was to his liking he did not like others prying his business it was afterall his.

Ordering a large cup of Beer, he looked around the pub he seemed to believe all the eyes were upon him yet none looked at him he pulled back his long grey hair and then twisted his mustache as the beer took and his mind began to wonder. He was waiting. For what, he did not know.

[rutslegolas]

Harry Brandybuck was stout and strong hobbit,he worked as a carpenter and had recently returned from his long journey to the strange but beautiful land of Rohan.He wished very much for a drink of good ale on his return,so he dropped into the Green Dragon Inn.'Such a long time since I have been here,but it just feels like yesterday',he thought.

When he entered the inn the smell of fresh lamb stew and buckleberry tart reached his nose and he nearly jumped in excitment.He then sat down at a table near a old Gaffer and ordered two ales for both of them.

[Envinyatar]

From his vantage point on the roof, Derufin could see the Hobbits working at a steady pace below. Andwise, of course, knew the other four, younger lads and had stepped into the room they were just starting to frame, admiring their work and asking where, if any, doors they intended to put on and would their be any built in cabinets.

‘Aye, there’ll be a door here,’ said Tomlin, ‘and two windows, here and here. So’s they can get a cross-breeze of sorts on those hot shire nights.’ He shook his head at the question of cabinets – be best if we just put in a wardrobe, I think – one they can move if they need to.’

He could not here what Andwise said, as they had now passed into the interior of the house. But soon he saw Andwise bringing out cupboard doors to lean against some sawhorses he’d set up. And on another pair, he and one of the younger Hobbits, Fallon, had brought ought the old door and laid it flat across them.

‘Think you can salvage that one?’ Derufin called down to Andwise as the Hobbit surveyed wood closely, running his practiced fingers along the surface as his eyes scanned up and down.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger watched as the Innkeeper and Cook spoke. She had gathered the violets . . . blues and yellows and whites. And, to her delight, in a little patch beneath the Ash tree that overlooked an older part of the flower patch, were the Heart’s Ease, a much loved pansy-violet of old with its lavender-blue, white and yellow petals. The little basket she had been given to put the flowers in put forth a light and lovely scent.

Away from the heat of the cooking hearth, Cook had sat her down, with a small bowl in which she’d gently beaten together some egg whites and a little water. Dipping her small brush into the egg mixture, ginger lightly painted the petals of the violets, a flower at a time, then holding the now sticky violet over another bowl filled with fine milled sugar, she sprinkled a small stream onto each flower, coating them with the shiny crystals. Flower after flower was patiently done in such a manner, then laid gently on a baking rack to dry.

‘How long will these last,’ she asked Cook, about halfway through the task. ‘A year,’ came the quick reply from Miz Bunce, as she added a few grinds of pepper and a little chopped parsley to the stew. ‘’We only need them to last a week, though.’ Cook came over to give a critical glance over at the lass’ effort. ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘You’ve a deft hand at that.’

Ginger blushed at the compliment, the crimsoned stain spreading up her fair neck to her cheeks, which soon burned bright as beacons. ‘Never have done such before,’ she confided to Cook. She picked up one of the violets and twirled it about in her fingers. ‘It’s going to be a beautiful cake, isn’t it? My stars, it will look just like a big bouquet of flowers!’

Buttercup bustled in from the common room, her eyes widening at the racks of bejeweled flowers. She picked up one of the more dried ones and admired it from all sides. Without thinking, she popped it into her mouth, the sweet surprise of it making her smile. With a cluck of disapproval, Cook shooed her out of the kitchen before she could taste another, ushering her to the door with directions to tell Derufin and the others to come in, in a bit, for lunch. Ginger, while Cook’s back was turned, winked at Buttercup, then boldly popped one of her creations into her own mouth.

[Arry]

Ferdy could hear his Da whistling as he came round the side of Inn’s old caretaker’s cottage. Andwise was happiest when he was “workin’ the wood” he’d always told his son. And sure enough, there he was planning and scraping down some small doors to some cupboards he supposed. Ferdy waved as his Da looked up. ‘Shall I start on one of these little doors you’re doing, or start on the big door over there?’

‘Big one, I think, son,’ said Andwise, pointing at the wooden toolchest set near him. ‘There’s a second planer in there. And I think in the back of the cart there’s a basket of shavegrass we can use for the fine rubbing.’

The two set to work, a comfortable silence settling in between them, punctuated by the frequent bursts of melody as the spirit struck Andwise. It was an hour or so later, when Buttercup came bustling from the Inn with news they were to put aside their work and wash up at the pump. There was stew to be served for lunch with thick slices of crusty bread. She’d set a table for them all beneath the spreading oak tree near the back door of the kitchen and would be serving them herself.

Andwise harrumphed as he watched the Hobbit lads gawp at the retreating figure of Buttercup. He was about to make a remark to Ferdy, when he noticed the same expression on his son’s face. Almost as one, the five young Hobbits ran toward the yard pump. Derufin had by this time come down from the roof and stood staring after the retreating herd. ‘Now don’t that just beat all,’ said Andwise, shaking his head at the lads. He grinned up at Derufin. ‘Nothing like the anticipation of a hand-fasting party to turn the young’uns heads . . .’

[piosenniel]

~*~ NOTICE OF NEW RPG OPENING ~*~

Crystal Heart invites you to play in her new game:

Seekers of Truth

The Discussion Thread for this game is now open.

~*~ Pio

[Lalwendë]

Jinniver Cornthrift had been busy since breakfast. She had brought her horse, Nutkin, out to take some fresh air, and then had been seeing to the goods she carried in her cart. Under the tarpaulin were boxes and packets of seeds, all labelled in Jinniver’s own hesitant but neat handwriting, there were empty plant pots, hand painted in bright colours, and wooden containers with little jars, packed in straw to keep them safe. These jars contained the sauces Jinniver made, following her mother’s old recipes. These too were labelled, “Cornthrift Farm Condiments, The Greenway, Bree”. Jinniver checked to see that all this produce was safe, and then began to attend to the trays of seedlings and cuttings which took up most of the space in the cart.

After she had finished watering all her plants, Jinniver felt in need of a rest, and sat down on the grass at the side of the road, in the shade of her cart, and lit up her pipe. Her hair was coming loose again and she began to wish she had gone back up to her room to tidy it up, but now she felt too tired to do so and simply knotted it back onto the nape of her neck once more. She was wondering whether to go into Hobbiton with her wares when she saw an extremely round hobbit coming up the road, and she stopped to watch him.

He was as wide as he was tall, and his round stomach reminded Jinniver of a large ball, stuffed inside a fancy waistcoat; his head was also rather round, and his face was red. She smiled to see him, and even though she pretended to be looking at the view, she couldn’t help but steal a glance at the hobbit. Despite his rotund frame, he was walking quickly and soon drew level with Jinniver, where he halted, leaning on his walking stick.

“I say, young miss, could I trouble you for a light?” he asked, his head on one side.

“Why, of course, “ said Jinniver, standing up. The hobbit lit up his pipe, took a deep draught and exhaled with a sigh. “Egbert Proudfoot,” he extended his hand and Jinniver shook it tentatively. “Retired Gentlehobbit of Hobbiton. Most pleased to meet you miss.”

“And I am Jinniver Cornthrift of Bree, here on business, although it is turning out to be quite a pleasurable trip” Jinniver smiled, and Egbert asked her about her line of business, something which Jinniver felt quite comfortable discussing with this strange hobbit. Before long, they were looking at the packets of seeds and happily talking about blooms and slug remedies and soil improvements. She had soon learned the names of the many keen gardeners in the village, who Egbert assured her would welcome the chance to buy some of her seeds and cuttings.

“You might have heard of the Gamgees, they have become real collectors of rare plant species. Have you seen the Mallorn tree yet?”, said Egbert. Jinniver had heard of this wonderful tree, and was excited to hear about it. She asked the hobbit to tell her more, about how Hobbiton had come by it, but he said he regretfully had to be moving on, as he was due to visit his son for lunch, but before he went on his way, he bought as many packets of seed as he could carry, and he asked her to deliver some seedlings to his hobbit hole down the road.

Jinniver watched the hobbit go and felt happy. She looked at the coins in her hand, lost in thought for a moment. She had come to The Shire hoping to earn money and make some contacts, but it was also turning out to be something of a holiday, an experience she had never before had. Many years ago she had felt great happiness, but this had all too soon turned to regret and fear, and since then her life had mostly been hard work. She was almost afraid of happiness, in case it was taken away from her. The memory of herself as a very young woman floated into her mind, and quickly she shook it away. She didn’t want the past to spoil the simple happiness she felt now, and she did what she always did to help her forget, work. Purposefully, she took out her accounts book and logged the sale she had just made, then made her way back inside the inn to have something to drink before delivering Mr Proudfoot’s order.

Isilmë blushed even more as the maiden spoke to him. Her words sounded like music to his ears, and he was like enchanted by her grace and beauty. He was dumb with astonishment cause of Ascasirs good charisma and manner. She joined them by their table and she was he first to say anything.

'Thank you Isilmë for your invitation. My name is Gwenneth. I hail from the Grey Havens.' she said and smiled towards Isilmë.

Isilmë half-bowed in reply to Gwenneth and now spoke more self-assured and pulled himself together and said; 'As you've heard, my Lady, my name is Isilmë. I am from the Golden Wood in Lorien, but in the past time I've been staying in Ery Lasgalen, just as Ascasir.' He didn't blush anymore, and he glanced over to Ascasir that didn't seem unsure about himself at all.

Gwenneth's voice ringed like bells in their ears and Isilmë felt that he could sit there and just listen to her forever. The spell ended as it started to clatter from plates and they turned their heads and now saw that lunch was being served.

The nice smell of the lunch started to tempt Isilmë's mind and he glanced over to a counter where they now served lunch. Cause of his late breakfast he had, he didn't feel much hungry, but a small piece of lamb stew would be nice.

Many of the Inn guests started to eat lunch and Isilmë saw how Ascasirs gaze was like drawn towards the counter where the lunch was being served. Isilmë cleared his throat and said 'I believe that I am not the only one who is hungry.' He glanced over to Ascasir with a smile. 'I suggest we'd get something to eat, or what do you say?'