The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Witch_Queen]

Adu looked as if she was lost in the world. She knew where she was but then again she didn't. Adu figured her mind was playing with her. "Fáinu, I don't like to be alone. Setting her watching everyone else and their companions only make me long for company that much more. I don't know when Hama will be back and then again I don't know if he will come back. I need a friend right now and your the only one that can understand what I'm feeling." Adu wiped the tears from her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she cried like this.

I have cried myself to sleep many nights but never was it like this. Always it was for my homeland and my family. Yet they have forgotten about me. To them I am no more than a shadow. That is the way it will be..... Aduthondiel the Forgotten. She sat there staring into his eyes. She didn't know why but for some reason she didn't feel alone anymore. Realizing what she was doing Adu turned her head away from him. She could feel her cheeks burning and she knew she was blushing.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The gathering dusk opened momentarily and from it emerged a dark cloaked figure atop a great black horse. The slow tread of the hooves fell like metal into the evening light as the horseman drew into the grounds of The Green Dragon. The horse was suddenly stilled and its rider regarded the Inn from beneath the dark folds of his hood. Only his eyes could be seen, glittering with a baleful light as they sought to swallow the Inn like food. The smell of the roasting lamb fell about the horseman unnoticed, and the quietude that spread out from him began to still the yard.

With a sudden jerk, as though waking from a dream, the horse and its rider strode to the stables where the rider quickly dismounted, his high, richly made leather boots ringing loudly against the flagstones. He looped the reins over the rail and quickly removed the saddle, which he tossed upon the low stable door nearest him. The man looked in through the stable door for a moment, gazing upon something or someone who was no longer there. He sighed and moved toward the open door of the Inn, now filling with a warm and welcoming light.

He stepped into the familiar confines of the Inn and greeted the rush of sound and light with an unaccustomed smile that lit his face. Few noted his entrance with anything more than curiosity, for he was greatly changed since his last visit to the Inn, and he had learned the ways of cloaking his true self in the intervening months. His dark eyes swept about the room, searching for someone in particular, but they did not find their quarry.

Suddenly worried that perhaps he would be thwarted in his search, he strode through the room to the bar. As he approached it, there entered from the kitchen the welcome and familiar countenance of Ruby Brown. Her happy eyes met his and there was amazed recognition. Quickly dropping a curtsey, Ruby stammered out, “Welcome back, Sir! I had not thought to see you again, I must admit. Have you had a long journey?”

The man smiled at the hobbit’s warmth and placed his hands upon the bar. They were clad in rich leather gloves and as he moved his robe fell away revealing the silks and furs of a great and powerful noble. His hood, however, he left in place. Casting his voice to a lower pitch he answered Ruby quite simply. “Yes, a very long journey.”

“Well, like I always say, long or short it doesn’t matter once it’s ended.”

The man’s smile was knowing and a bit unsettling this time. “Ended? That is a claim indeed to make for my journey. I do not think that I can say that it is ended. But perhaps for a time I can delay.”

Ruby smiled at this, although she had little idea of what he was talking about. Suddenly remembering, she flushed and looked about the bar. “I suppose, Sir, that you’d be wanting to speak with Miz Aman?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I’ll just run and see if I can find her.” Ruby turned to go, but then paused and looked back. “Who should I say is asking for her, Sir?”

The dark man smiled, and pulled back his hood revealing strong dark features and his flowing raven hair. His grey eyes flashed like steel. “Why Ruby, I thought that you recognised me.”

“Indeed I do, Sir, but I wasn’t sure if you’d have a new name to go with everything else that’s changed about you.”

He laughed softly with genuine amusement. “I had forgotten how perceptive you are Ruby, like all your folk. I do indeed have a new name, many in fact, but you should use the one that I had when I came here last.”

Ruby curtsied once more. “Yes Mr. Snaveling,” she said before disappearing in search of the Innkeeper.

[Amanaduial the archer]

At the moment the door of the Common Room closed behind Snaveling, the sidedoor of the kitchen opened, releasing the fragrant smells of Cook's work into the pleasant night air. The Innkeeper, now clad in a dress, stepped out onto the step, breathing in the still air happily, her eyes closed as she took a moment to enjoy the peace and coolness. The soft green material of the dress's skirts lapped lazily around her legs and feet and the breeze gently stroked her half-exposed arms as she stood suspended on the step; after the constricting leathers, especially after several hours hard riding, the dress seemed ridiculously airy and light, and besides, Cook had made it quite clear that she would 'much prefer it' if Aman changed - the hobbit woman's glares of disapproval would send a weaker woman cowering beneath the bar.

Breathing deeply, Aman shrugged her shoulders lightly and began to walk briskly towards the stables: having changed now, she intended to check on her horses, especially Taydoch, before she went back in for the evening. Reaching the courtyard, something immediately struck her as odd, something which maybe would not have seemed so odd to newcomers to the Inn who did not know it quite as well as the Rohirrim Innkeeper.

The door was closed.

Likesay, this would not seem so strange had it not been for the fact that it was always open - both Derufin and Merrimac had a habit of leaving it open so that the warm, comforting light spilled onto the cobbles of the courtyard, giving a pre-taste of the Inn, the bright windows of which you saw when you fully rounded the corner into the courtyard. But to see it so conscientiously and carefully closed...

Approaching and lifting the latch, Aman gave an experimental push and was relieved when the door swung open with a soft creak - that meant at least that it was locked only from the outside, and that there was no one inside. Still, with horses from every race and calibre of peoples from ever inch of Middle Earth stored under one roof, it didn't pay for the owner of said roof to be at all careless. Closing the door almost entirely behind her, Aman turned to lift the lantern from behind her...and leapt as a thump punctuated the silence.

Whirling around with the lamp held high, the oil light flaring into the uncertainty of the shadows, Aman glared around wildly...and grinned in relief, feeling foolish, as she realised it was merely the sound of one of her own horses shifting. Lowering the threatening lantern and turning the little stick carefully so that the light softened, she approached them with a smile. Taydoch and Rochfalmar stood with their heads close over the half-doors of their stalls and the mare nuzzled her nose against the black stallions gently as Aman came towards them, and he reciprocated gingerly. They were getting on well then. Aman held out a hand to stroke Taydoch's nose - and stopped as she noticed the second thing that was amiss: that the ever-absent stall beside Taydoch's was no longer absent. The Innkeeper cocked her head on one side and looked speculatively at the new occupant of the stall: a huge, dark beast like Taydoch but more stockily built, it's eyes glinting with some inner fire, it's coat melding into the darkness as if woven of the night itself.

This was a horse that meant business.

Aman held out a hand to the horse and it pushed firmly at her sleeve in the search for oats - so it was obviously animal not immortal beast. She frowned slightly beneath her smile though - there was a certain something about this horse, an essence that spoke of something else...someone else... The memories stirred confidently and Aman blinked: could it be...? No, don't be silly, just because the horse happens to be the sort of steed you could imagine him riding...it doesn't mean he has returned...not when you never really expected to see him again...

Picking up her skirts and half-running out of the stables, Aman deposited the lantern hastily and made her way quickly into the Inn, pausing only to look hopefully at the window of the Inn, where the bright lights of the fire and the joy of the customers shone brightly. Was that a tall figure she saw there, wearing dark riding clothes? Or was it simply imagination...

Making her way up the steps at what Cook would have called an 'indecent pace' for a young lady, the Rohirrim woman took a deep breath as if plunging underwater and opened the door. Looking around, her eyes settled as if drawn magnetically on the figure warming his hands in front of the fire, his back turned to her, dark hair falling down his neck, the profile of his pale face familiar as he turned his head...

"Snaveling..." Aman breathed softly. The man couldn't have heard, but he turned anyway, and a dry smile broke out on his noble features as he caught Aman's eye and nodded, moving towards her without a word. Aman broke out in a bashful grin that would have set every old gossip in Hobbiton gleefully muttering to each other, but this time with reason - maybe. Holding out her hands to Snaveling's, she grasped them tightly and smiled up at the Numenorean.

"Welcome back, Snaveling - come, I see by your face that we have plenty to discuss..."

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Fáinu looked darkly about the room. He knew not what he could do. He sat there deep in thought, weighing his options one by one. He took a drink from his mug and looked back at her.

"Much I would do," he began at last, "To help one in such plight. Deep wounds you bear, wounds of history. And I perceive, that some you know not the origins of. Indeed, I know those wounds, for I bear them myself."

He was silent again and went back into deep thought. At length an Old Dwarf came into the Inn, he was weary and coughed as he entered.

"Fáinu!" he spluttered, "I am going to Bree, I tell you so that you need not seek me."

"Very good, Dwaline." Said Fáinu, then, remembering his manners, "This is Aduthondiel, a friend of mine." The dwarf bowed and coughed, he took out a pipe and placed some weed in it.

"I'll be off then." Said Dwaline turning and puffing smoke, "Not like I'm wanted in Half-ling country."

"Dwaline, wait!" Cried Fáinu, "I must bid you do one thing."

"Name it, I shall do it." Said the Dwarf, "If it is in my power." He coughed and spluttered again.

"On the road," Fáinu began, "find what news you can of one named Hama. Send what news you gain to me, ether here or at Rivendell."

"Very well," Dwaline turned again and walked briskly out of the Inn. Hoof steps were heard slowly getting faster as the Dwarf rode away. Fáinu looked back at Adu and smiled.

"Perhaps this will ease your mind." he said, "He may be old, but Dwaline can get news better than most that I know." he then took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Adu. "Come, put worry aside for a time."

Just behind them a small fat Hobbit began a drunken song, which resulted in him falling from his chair and looking up at Fáinu.

"Who are you supposed to be?" he asked in a drunken slur, "Can I have a drink pal?"

The other Hobbits then picked him up and dragged him out. Fáinu smiled at Adu with a raised eyebrow suggesting amusement at the Hobbit's antics. She smiled back, weather she was amused, or fained it he could not tell.