The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Yet before she could shut her mouth it came out. "Fáinu, perhaps this is fate."

At this Fáinu's smile faded. Fate was a word that had haunted him for a long time. He looked about the stable for his horse; it was standing in the far corner and eating some hey. He led the horse out of its standing place and stopped it just in front of Adu. He was using this as time to think of how to react to what Adu had said.

"You speak of fate as if you understand It." he began, "I thought I did, but it is now hidden from me. For now, my fate is shrouded in cloud and dust." He placed his left hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "Do not tempt fate, it has a nasty habit of hewing off hope like a limb." he smiled at her trying not to put her into despair,

"I cannot see the future in myself, however, in thee, I perceive that your future is long and arduous, yet I do not think you shall be alone for ever. That is not your fate, as I can see it." He hoped that this would cheerer her up, and he smiled as he lead his horse out of the stables and awaited Adu to follow.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling watched in dismay as Aman retreated into herself. He knew well what it was like to live behind a mask, and could see the contours of the one that she was trying to wear, as well as the shape of her true feelings beneath it. He knew the ache of an unrequited affection, and was not unaware of the bitter irony of their situation. Her words came back to him: it is only Aman the Innkeeper who you came for. The truth of those words stung him deeply with shame and regret. He should not have returned to disturb the Innkeeper in her life, but the purpose of his quest gripped him so that he could not do other than come here. Here is where he had met Roa, here is where he had the best chance of finding her again.

Despite his wish to respect Aman’s privacy he was anxious for news of the Ranger, and it was only with the greatest effort of will that he was able to prevent himself from joining Aman at her meal and asking for more news. He did not wish to cause her any more grief, but he could tell that for the time being there was not way he could speak with her without making the situation worse. He cast about for another option, and his eyes landed upon one of the hobbit lasses working as a serving maid as she emerged from the kitchen, her tray laden with food. She was new to him but she seemed to know what she was about. It occurred to Snaveling that if Roa had come through the Inn recently, this hobbit lass would be sure to know about it. The fact that she was new also appealed to him, for perhaps she was not yet aware of his history at the Inn…

The room was growing warm so he removed his cloak and cast it upon an empty chair at a small table. Seating himself, he called out politely for the lass. She looked at him pertly and came to the table. “Would you like some supper, Sir?” she asked. A lifetime spent as a vagabond is hard to shake loose, and Snaveling was immediately wary of her tone, for in it he sensed some slight reluctance toward him. Was the lass aware that he was the cause of Aman’s distress?

He smiled at her. “As a matter of fact, yes, I would like some supper. But might I trouble you with a question first?” As he spoke he nudged a chair toward her with his foot by way of invitation. The lass did not sit down, but looked at him, her eyes slowly growing more serious.

“What would you like to know, sir?” was all she said.

“Well, for the first, your name if you don’t mind giving it to me. I am Snaveling.”

The lass’s eyes betrayed nothing at the mention of his name. She replied simply, “I’m called Ginger”

“Thank you, Ginger. I am looking for a friend of mine,” he began as carefully as he could. “A woman named Roa. She is a Ranger, quite young with red hair and green eyes,” his heart caught at the memory, “she was once a regular at the Inn, and may have been through here some months ago. Have you seen her?”

[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.

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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.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Horses? A rare enough talent in the Shire - but then, nowadays young gentlemen such as yourself are rare enough as well."

Aman had entered through the side door through from the garden, pretty much unseen and unheard thanks to Derufin's well-oiled locks, and had been quietly listening from the doorway. Startled, Ginger jumped slightly, then smiled in relief at the Innkeeper; whereas Cook span around with her eyes narrowed accusingly as she realised that the Innkeeper had been listening, unseen. Aman held her hands up as if in surrender. "I apologise, I could not help but overhear."

"You were eavesdropping, Missy," Cook growled. Aman looked about to protest, then closed her mouth and shrugged, nodding and giving a slightly rueful grin. She saw Tim staring at her in amazement and winked at him, shrugging again. "Well, maybe a little bit..." she murmured. "But now I'm here..." she stepped further into the kitchen, off-loading an apron-full of freshly picked vegetables onto Ginger; the Green Dragon vegetable patch was a modest but well-kept plot which sprawled neatly around the side of the Inn, beside the kitchen, and the Innkeeper had happened to be picking from there this morning - it allowed her to be useful enough so as not to be berated by Cook, whilst avoiding the rush of all-too-perky customers early in the morning. The Innkeeper was not a morning person.

However, this morning was already looking to be a beautiful one, and despite the early hour, Aman was feeling the sun inside as the external one warmed her outside. Eyeing the two children, Aman realised that they were indeed the pair who had come in last night: on the right, with Ginger's comforting hand on one skinny shoulder, was the little girl; and on the left, having apparently developed a sudden and intense interest in the tea-pot, was her brother, the wary-looking boy, Tim. The woman sighed: she had suspected these two weren't looking for their parents, and apparently this had been confirmed. That was the problem with niggling suspicions: sometimes it was so much easier, for once, if one could just be proved wrong about them.

Turning to Cook, she clicked her fingers, suddenly remembering something. "Oh, Vinca - Goody Longhole was asking after you this morning. Something about you agreeing to swap a few of the Dragon's recipes with hers..."

Cook snorted in a most unlady-like fashion. "Swap? With her? That old trout, if she values her darned apple pie as highly as any of the Dragon's finest fodder and thinks I'll trade secrets for that, she is sorely mistaken! Been pestering me about it for weeks..."

The Innkeeper clandestinely raised an eyebrow at Ginger, wiping her earthy hands on her now muddy apron. "Well, you know, she has been working hard for the festivals this coming summer, that apple pie of hers isn't to be lightly valued anymore..."

"You consider her deserts to be finer than mine?" The old hobbit-wife was almost quivering with indignation. Aman hastily tried to remedy her words. "No, nonono, I didn't mean...I just meant that maybe a little extra help is maybe just what you need to show her exactly why the 'Dragon is famed for it's victuals." Cook settled down and Aman almost sagged in relief - the wrath of the homely looking hobbit matron was to be feared by the fiercest of battle-scarred warriors. But Cook had picked up on her drift by now, and at this point turned to Wren. Her face softened and, to Aman's surprise, her features took on an almost conspiratorial edge as she nudged the little girl carefully, winking. "What do you say? Reckon we could give that Goody Longhole a run for her money, eh?"

The little girl giggled between sniffs and returned the smile bashfully. Aman wordlessly offered her a clean handkerchief as she eyed her brother. He had looked up in surprise at the Innkeeper when Cook had given this apparent consent to them staying, but when he saw the Rohirrim woman returning his inquisitive gaze he reddened slightly but, not altogether to the young woman's surprise, he raised his chin and returned it - not insolently, but with a quiet pride. A stray he may have been, but this boy was not a beggar: a determination glinted in his grey eyes that Aman wasn't sure she did not recognise. She nodded slightly, more to herself than anyone else, and looked away, her eyes turning to her hands as she resumed wiping the dirt away, as she measured up the boy. The 'Dragon had always been a quietly charitable residence, certainly since Aman had got here: the Innkeeper had picked up a fair old reputation for 'picking up strays' as some of the older, disapproving goodwifes put it. But then, maybe it was a reputation which she deserved, and did not exactly resent: when those in hiding or without a friend were swept to the Dragon, the kind-hearted Innkeeper simply couldn't just turn them away, even when it would perhaps have been better to do so. Crystal, a girl on the run from her vicious father; Uien, an elven girl of such melancholy beauty who Derufin had adopted as his protege; and Snaveling, of course, always Snaveling - if there had ever been a fouler rogue who the Innkeeper would have been in her rights to turn away or, better still, have arrested, the Black Numenorian was it - yet her charity to him even when he spat it back in her face had been rewarded, had it not? She had found a key to a past she had never know to have had... Aman smiled slightly to herself. Yes, Tar-Corondir was an exception to every rule in the book, and more. But he was just more living proof that scorn of the hand she extended to wanderers was, if only sometimes, a scorn unstudied.

She looked up sidelong at the boy again, and nodded slightly once more. Looking in his eyes, eyes that had lost both parents and yet were still determined to keep their pride and make what they could of life, Aman was not sure that she did not see a little of herself in him. But to have been subjected to such loss so young… “Tim, isn’t it?” The boy looked slightly surprised, but nodded. “Your mother was an Easterling, you say? It isn’t an accusation,” she added hastily as the boy’s eyes flashed defensively. “It was merely a question. I have a fondness for the Eastern horses – indeed one of my three horses, Taydoch, is from the the region of Rhun – far East, I suppose, especially from the viewpoint of where I originate from.”

Tim frowned questioningly, and Aman answered, “Rohan. I am from the land of the Horse-lords.”

“Psh, not just from – Aman herself is a so-called ‘horse-lord’ – never seen a woman so fond of wearing riding leathers…” Cook interjected huffily, but with a touch of a smile in her expression nonetheless. Tim, his head whipping from one speaker to the other as if watching a tennis match, his eyes saucer-like, seemed speechless. “…you’re one of the Rohirrim?”

Aman smiled simply, then held out a hand to the boy. “If you truly have an aptitude for working with horses, we’ll get on just famously,” she replied warmly. “Come on, let me show you the stables – no point in hanging around…”

[Folwren]

Tim paused for half a second and then sprang to his feet. This was a chance being offered to him by a lady from his parent’s homeland. His father had not often spoke of Rohan, but when he had, there had always been a strange light in his eye that Tim had never fully understood, but did enough to know that it was a beloved land and that his father missed it. He came forward and took Aman’s hand and then looked back at Wren.

“Can you stay here for a bit?” he asked. She only nodded, and he and the Rohannian lady went out.

They crossed the bright yard and entered the dim barn again. Aman led him forward to the stalls and then stopped by one. She smiled down at him slightly as she undid the latch and then swung the door open and ushered him in.

A large mass moved in the corner across from them and Tim saw the horse’s head turn towards them. Its jet black, shining eyes caught the light from the open doorway and reflected it as it stared at Tim. Then he moved and shifted, pivoting on his hind legs to face the two visitors and took two steps forward to them.

“This is Taydoch,” Aman said softly from behind Tim. A smile came to the boy’s face and he extended his hand upwards to touch the horse. He felt the warm breath from his wide nostrils flow over his fingers and he gently stroked him.

Taydoch was a gentle horse, but seemed positively massive next to Tim’s slight figure. The lad didn’t mind and he wasn’t at all shy to walk forward to his shoulders and pass his hands along beneath his stomach and girth and feel the muscles of his legs and the delicately shaped bones of his fetlock and hoof.

“He’s beautiful,” Tim said, walking back to Aman with his hand trailing the handsome curve of Taydoch’s neck. The lady smiled.

“Come see the others,” she said, turning to go. “There are several here belonging to the guests.”

The two of them visited most of the occupied stalls as briefly as they could and then headed back towards the inn’s kitchen to see what could be resolved upon.

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

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, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAy AT PRESENT

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Meriadoc - Stablemaster

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

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.

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EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

Time of Day

It's morning in the Shire. Breakfast is being served.

The weather is pleasant - sunny with a clear sky.

[Primrose Bolger]

‘The blue ones it is, then,’ said Ginger. She finished one of the braids and bound it with a short piece of kitchen string. Her hands flew quickly through the other braid, and soon it too was done and bound. The length of one of the blue ribbons, the one the color of a bluebird’s feathers, was cut in two and twin bows soon found themselves perched securely on each of Wren’s braid ends.

Ginger glanced at the half-hour glass. The sand had almost run through. She peeked into the oven, noting the tops of the cakes were still wet looking. Closing the oven door once again, she turned the timer over.

‘Well, I suppose we could get these washed up and chopped,’ she said pointing to the carrots and taters and onions Aman had brought in from the garden. Cook does want to have some nice thick chicken soup for supper, but . . .’ She pursed her lips, then grinned at Wren.

‘If we’re quick about it, there’s a wardrobe of clothes that travelers have left in their rooms and never come back to collect or sent for. I’m certain there are skirts and blouses and dresses that would fit you. In fact, I know there are – I’ve looked at them myself.’ She held Wren at arm’s length and twirled her about. ‘You’re a Big Folk child, but still we’re about the same height. I’ve got maybe an inch or so on you.’ She took Wren by the hand and pulled her quickly up the back stairs of the kitchen toward the attic rooms above her own and the other server girls. ‘Step lively. We wouldn’t want the cakes to burn,’ she said, hurrying the girl along.

Ginger flung open the door and sneezed a bit in the stirred up dust. ‘There’s the wardrobe over there,’ she said pointing to a corner near one of the attic’s small windows. ‘Help me get the doors open, won’t you. They’re a bit sticky.’

[Primrose Bolger]

Wren and Ginger picking berries

The sheet cakes were cooling on racks set along the kitchen counters. Ginger and Wren were out of doors, a basket each on the ground beside them, as they crouched down among the plants in the strawberry bed. Here and there a bright red jewel peeked through the green leaves, drawing their fingers on to find more of the tasty berries.

Ginger’s deft fingers worked their way down the rows, taking only the sweet, ripe fruit. ‘’Bout time for second breakfast, Wren, once we’ve finished here. We can set the berries in the cool pantry and wash and slice them later.’ Ginger rubbed the tip of her nose with the back of her hand. ‘We should check on what cream we have, too. Now as I think on it. We’ll want to whip up a big bowl of it to plop on the strawberries and cake for supper’s dessert.’

[Nurumaiel]

Falco Headstrong stumbled wearily into the Common Room, and found that Marigold had already come down. She was perched on top of one of the tables, and when she saw him she waved frantically. Grumbling, he staggered over to her and sat down heavily in one of the chairs. She lightly sprang from the table to the floor, and likewise sat down.

"I had to sit on the table until you came," she said. "I wanted you to know where I was and I was afraid you might not see me if I were in one of the chairs. There are so many tall folk about. I was very afraid that someone would see me and say I wasn't allowed to sit on the table, and then what would I do? I'd have to give you up for lost, Mr. Headstrong."

He said nothing, but groaned loudly.

"Am I annoying you?" she cried, her face filling with distress. She clasped her hands together and looked earnestly into his face. "Do you dislike it when I talk?"

"At the present moment," he said, "anyone's talk, whether yours or the man in the moon's, will bother me. I have an awful headache that has been going on for most of the night."

"Oh, I'm quite sorry," she said. "But, you know, it just goes to show that names, like appearances, can be deceiving. Anyone who was just introduced to you might think that you had a very strong head. But your head is just as likely to ache as anyone's."

He groaned again, and quickly she closed her mouth and remained considerately silent... for a time. Her eyes darted about the Common Room quickly, as if she were searching for something, and then she took it upon herself to explain.

"I'm so excited for school to start," she said. "I find it so much easier when you're past the first day. The first day, you know, I was very quiet. I was so afraid I would make a fool of myself but saying something ridiculous. But I'm beginning to feel more like talking. After all, many of the children don't know anything, and I know something at least, even if it's not very much. Maybe if I studied all the day, and not only when the school is going on, I would become so wise that I could help teach. And then all through the day the children would come to me asking questions about this and that, and that and this. I'd feel quite important then. Not that I don't usually feel important. I felt important the time I fell off the horse and all the Elves were so worried about me. I suppose you're awfully important when Elves worry about you. But I was hurting all over, so it wasn't as exciting as it might have been. It will be something I can look back upon in my old age, though. Do you think they'll teach us about Elves in school? There are so many Elves here in the Inn we could talk about... and they could come and teach about themselves! Wouldn't that be funny? Imagine if I were to go to a school to teach everyone about Marigold Baker. Don't you think that would be odd?"

She turned bright eyes to Falco, and saw from the expression on his face that he wasn't in the mood to think about anything. Her eyes grew wide and she wondered how long she had been prattling on. She closed her mouth again, this time much more firmly, and this time it stayed closed for a little while longer.

Eadwyn paused her whistling for a moment to wince at the pains of hunger that were currently gripping her stomach. She had been riding since before the sun was up without a meal, and the long hours on the road admiring the beautiful scenery had distracted her from taking a break. The inviting sign of an inn just up ahead made a smile creep onto her young face. Eadwyn slowed her horse to a stop and climbed slowly off the dapple gray mare. She took a much-needed stretch and looked up. Her pale blue eyes took in the sign out front.

"The Green Dragon." Eadwyn whispered with a smirk. "Sounds friendly enough."

Eadwyn took the reins of her horse in her hands and gave the mare a pat on the nuzzle. She pulled the hood back off her head to reveal a mass of golden blond hair neatly tied back behind her head.

Eadwyn located the stable hand, Meriadoc, and after making sure her travel companion was in good hands she entered the inn. Things seemed pretty calm; Eadwyn looked around and found an empty table. She maneuvered quickly across the floor and slid into a seat at the table.

Eadwyn hailed from Rohan and she realized for the first time in many days how truly far away from home and all familiar things she was. Her mother, a lady of the court, had detested much of Eadwyn's decision to go out and explore the world she lived in. Her father, a celebrated member of the Rohirrim, found it amusing that his spirited daughter wanted to expand her horizons. Eadwyn had spent much of her childhood causing mischief and getting in to trouble by playing with the boys. She had always wanted to be a rider like her brother, but the rules of the world would always put a damper on her dreams.

However, today her dreams brought her to this cozy little place filled with interesting faces. Eadwyn was eager to meet new people, but her boisterous personality was masked as usual by her shyness. She settled for ordering some breakfast from someone named Ruby who seemed to be the kitchen help.

Eadwyn wished to take her time eating. She needed to take a long, long rest for the road that still lay out ahead of her.