The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Angel_Queen]

Ravon was beyond surprised when Lewis told her about the blacksmith tools he was going to be able to acquire. "Lewis I guess we can wait until after we eat some dinner. Though I really would love to know what the surprise is." She could tell in his eyes that is was going to be something she wouldn't expect. Over the months that Ravon had lived with Lewis she had grown to love the way he was. She would end up having a full stomach before he would allow her to know what the sweets were. Desert after dinner. Ravon loved everything about Lewis but was still distant from him. Nothing would hurt her while Lewis was around. She knew she was safe for now.

"So Lewis what shall we have to eat then?" Ravon was trying to be patient but couldn't. It wasn't like her to be patient. She anticipated the worse but expected the best. Ravon listened as the ran gently came crashing down on the roof of the inn. She realized that she had left the windows up and was worried that for some reason the rain may get in. "Lewis did you go back by our home before you arrived at the inn. I'm afraid the windows are still up." Despite the fact that Ravon had a serious look on her face Lewis began to chuckle and laugh. "Ravon the windows are up. I stopped by the house to see if you was still there before coming back to the inn. All is well in our little hole in the ground." In all her life Ravon never imagined that she would be living in a hobbit hole like all her new neighbors.

Ravon stood up and looked down at Lewis. "I'm going to get an ale would you like one as well?" Lewis gave Ravon a nod and she knew that was her answer. She walked over to the counter and asked a waitress for two pints of ale before returning back to where Lewis was. The foam was layered on top of the warm liquid. Warm ale was always good on a rainy day. Sitting down she placed a mug in front of Lewis. "Here's to us." Ravon's mug and Lewis' mug slightly touched making the foam jiggle. She took a drink and set her mug back down only to be reminded of her old home. When it rained she would always love to dance in it. Now more than anything, Ravon just wanted to be with Lewis. To her it didn't matter what the weather was like, cause with him the sun was always shining.

[Firefoot]

Lily felt an immense relief at Posco's offer. She had been worried, before, when he had hardly said anything about her news. She had wondered if he did in fact think that she should do as her aunt and uncle would likely expect, and if she had been wrong in telling him. But she worried no more, because Posco had made himself clear. She smiled over at him.

"I would be delighted if you would ride with me," Lily replied with a pleased smile. "If it's not raining-" she darted a wistful glance out the window "-then we can leave tomorrow after breakfast sometime." It seemed to be the perfect solution. She had not really wanted to leave just yet, especially now with Tommy Banks waiting for her, and say good-bye to Posco for a time, but she had been away from home for quite a while now. If Posco would ride with her for a time, though... they could take their time, and despite the fact that she would be heading home, he would be with her. It was the best of both worlds.

Posco returned her smile with one of his own; Lily recognized it as the same one he had given when she said she would go riding with him. Lily continued, "I hope that there won't be any problems straightening everything out at home." Her features were even, but her voice conveyed a hint of worry. "If there are, well, you may come and 'thrash Tommy Banks,' and if that solves nothing I will run away with you." Her eyes glinted with amusement, though she was being serious, at least in part. She would do whatever she thought was necessary to be with Posco. She wasn't sure what that might entail, and hoped it wasn't too drastic. She was not rebellious by nature, nor did she want to be, but if rebellion was the solution her nature would not stand in the way of her love.

"I hope everything works out," she whispered. She did not know if Posco heard her or not, but either way she took comfort in his presence. She feared that she would miss him something terrible before long.

[Nurumaiel]

Posco glanced nervously down at Lily and coughed slightly. "Well, Lily," he said, as if he regretted his words but felt them his duty to say, "I don't know if we should actually run away. My parents wouldn't like it, and your aunt and uncle wouldn't like it."

"Oh, Posco, I don't really mean it."

"Of course not," he said, and his face brightened. Both were silent for a time, and Posco gazed out at the softly falling rain. He had always loved rain, for it was so soft and smooth-looking, and the sky was grey as if a painted picture, and mysterious mists would sweep over the green hills. Yet this rain seemed to be the outward manifestation of the dreariness in his heart. He did not want Lily to go home, and he did not want her to spend too much time with Tommy Banks. And he did not want to say what he felt he must say. She might misunderstand him, and begin to doubt his affections for her. Nevertheless...

"Lily," said he, and she turned her eyes up to him. He could not help but see the love in her eyes. She enjoyed hearing him speak her name, just as much as he enjoyed hearing her speak his name. He hardly had the heart to go on; but he remembered: he was not saying anything to give her doubt. He was merely speaking as he felt he should speak, as a gentlehobbit. "Lily, when you go home, for my sake, don't be cold and unkind to Tommy Banks. Don't act rebellious towards your aunt and uncle. Be obedient to them as far as you can, and if they try to impose the marriage upon you, be respectful when you answer them. And... and... don't entirely disregard Tommy Banks from your mind. Let him talk to you, and talk to him in return, and try to discern your heart... discern if you really, truly love me, or if you would not be happier with Tommy Banks."

"Of course I love you, Posco," she cried, and dismay was on her face. "Of course I shan't want to marry Tommy Banks. I could not be happy with him."

"I believe it fully, Lily," said Posco, "but I would feel much easier about marrying you if I knew you had made a responsible, well-thought-out decision. If you at least consider that Tommy Banks might be the one you should marry, but you choose me anyway, I'll know I'm making you happy by taking you as my wife, not taking you from a happiness you didn't at first realize."

"Would you do the same if there was a girl back home your parents wanted you to marry?" Lily questioned.

"Yes, I would, if I had your permission. I couldn't really doubt that I had a real, honest affection for you, but I'd think about it, and thoughtfully decide. You won't mind doing that for me, will you, Lily?"

[Arry]

‘Well, now, just let me tell you ‘bout the shivaree . . .’

Ferdy’s head snapped round at the sound of his Da’s voice . . . his loud voice . . . coming from somewhere across the room . . .

Tomlin and Gil, sitting across from Ferdy in one of the Dragon’s back booths, nudged each other and pointed toward the table where Andwise sat. ‘That can’t be your Da,’ Gil whispered across the table. Ferrin, who sat next to Ferdy, kicked Gil in the ankle.

It was Fallon, just come from lingering near the tap, who confirmed it was indeed Andwise. ‘Buttercup says he’s well into his third pint. Him and Mister Derufin. And he keeps topping off his mug from the pitcher she left on the table.’

All five of the lads now craned their necks outside the confines of the low walled booth to see what Ferdy’s Da was doing . . .

---------

Andwise took a pull at his pint, then set the mug carefully down on the table. His fingers were feeling a bit numb, as were his lips, he noted. He leaned back in his chair, attempting to cross his left leg over his right, but his legs had developed a will of their own. They seemed to have turned all noodley and slippery, too. Neither would stay crossed no matter which one he chose to swing over the other.

Derufin’s face, in focus just moments before, now seemed to have split into two, no, make that three, grinning visages. Andwise blinked his eyes several times trying to get the images to align. He leaned forward, his forearms on the table. ‘Begging your pardon,’ he said slowly, carefully enunciating each word. ‘I did intend to tell you about the shivaree. But something’s gone quite wrong. Some effect of the rainstorm I believe . . . shaking the Inn quite fiercely, don’t you think? Everything’s got all wobbly . . .’

He trailed off and was about to slip from his chair when a pair of hands shored him up and a familiar voice spoke close to his ear. ‘Da, you’ve had too much to drink.’ Andwise looked up into the wavering face that hung over him. Closing one eye, he brought it into focus. ‘Too much you say . . .’ Ferdy bent down and got his arm round his Da. Gil propped up the Hobbit’s other side, while Tomlin ran out to bring round the cart.

The crowd in the Inn opened and shut behind the three Hobbits as they made their way to the door.

Fallon and Ferrin were about to follow, when Derufin called them back. ‘Something I can do?’ he asked nodding at the door. ‘Nay,’ said Ferrin, sitting down in the now vacant chair. ‘The Banks never did hold their ale too well. Ferdy’ll get him home and into bed. He’ll be alright tomorrow. Late, that is.’ Fallon nodded his head, taking one of the other chairs to the left of Ferrin. He picked up Andwise’s mug and finished off the last of the ale. Pouring himself another from the pitcher at the table, he offered a drink to Ferrin. ‘We heard him say something about the shivaree,’ he prompted Derufin. ‘Didn’t go into the plans for it did he, now?’ he asked casually, sounding the man out.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin spread out his hands, palms up, and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ve no idea what he meant to say,’ he said, looking expectantly at the two Hobbits. ‘And as for any “planning”, I am more in the dark about what that refers to, than I was before.’ Motioning for one of the servers to come near, he had two new half-pint mugs brought (he was being careful this time . . .), and a fresh pitcher of ale. ‘Now, lads,’ he began, smiling warmly at them as he poured the ale in a long amber stream into their mugs, the foam of it winking invitingly in the light at the two. ‘What is this “custom” I have to look forward to?’ Eager hands reached out for the mugs, but they were denied any access until Ferrin, at last, began to speak.

‘Well, sir, Master Derufin,’ Ferrin began after a hastily whispered conference with his companion, ‘it’s more or less like this . . .’

The two Hobbits played tag team in telling him about the shivaree. An old custom, apparently, they said. And one most likely born out of the Hobbits’ love for parties, good food, and drink. Or so one of their great granda’s had told them once when he was well into his cups and bent on giving a lesson about the importance of tradition.

‘We like the party to go on and on, you see,’ said Fallon, wiping the foam from his lips and leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘And the one after the handfasting is always too short by Shire standards. What with the couple wanting to get away and all . . .’ He grinned up at Derufin, and gave him a wink.

‘So we figured a way to continue the fun,’ chimed in Ferrin, motioning for Derufin to fill his mug. He took a long pull at it before speaking again. ‘Now customs differ depending on the families being joined. The rowdies from Girdley Island kidnap the man just before he and his missus reach their house, get him quite sauced, then leave him across the river to make his way back to his missus in the dead of night. While those from Pincup make off with the missus herself, and the man must find her . . .’

Derufin’s brows had risen nearly to his hairline at this report. He filled his own mug, shaking his head and wondering how he was to tell Zimzi of this local tradition.

Ferrin and Fallon grinned at his discomfiture. ‘Now don’t think we didn’t consider one or t’other of these approaches,’ Ferrin continued. ‘But honestly,’ Fallon went on, ‘you’re a might too big for us to handle.’ Derufin breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, now don’t think we’re giving up on it altogether,’ Ferrin put in. ‘Shall we tell him, Fallon?’ ‘Might as well,’ the other Hobbit agreed.

‘Once you and the missus have come back to the cottage, your friends from the party will find their way there,’ Fallon continued. ‘No rest for the happy couple, I’m afraid, til the wee hours of the morning! There’ll be a gathering in your from yard, a very loud gathering. Pots and pans will be beat on with stirring spoons and the like. The men and lads will vie for who can sing you the bawdiest of songs . . .’ Ferrin nudged him, ‘Oh, and aye, even the sweet-faced old gammers will have some songs and taunts to throw your way . . .’

‘It’s a loud and horrible din we’ll make,’ chuckled Ferrin. ‘And there’ll be no stopping of it . . . until, of course, you throw your robes over your night clothes and come out to join us.’ Fallon nodded, his eyes glinting impishly. ‘And of course you’ll want to be offering these fine singers and reciters of choice verse a little something to drink and eat.’

‘Don’t forget to tell him about the blanket toss . . .’ slurred Ferrin, who had helped himself once again to the pitcher.

‘The blanket toss?’ wheezed Derufin, his last swallow of ale gone down wrong. His face had gone pale, but not from the coughing. In truth, his head was spinning as he tried to take in the details of this Shire custom. Fallon clapped him hard on the back to relieve the breathless cough.

Ferrin, seeing the last of the ale had gone from the pitcher, now waved it in the air, calling for more. Derufin had just caught his breath and Fallon begun again the further details of the shivaree when Cook’s voice broke in on the trio.

[Firefoot]

Once Lily had gotten over the shock of Posco’s request, she was able to think clearly about it. Why would he ask such a thing of her? She did not doubt that he loved her, and he said that it would make him happier if she was confident that he was who she really loved. She sighed.

“Since you ask it of me, I will try,” said Lily. She had no resistence to his wishes. She would be polite to Tommy, and give him a chance; the question was whether her heart would really be in it.

“Good,” replied Posco, sounding as if he meant it. Lily only wished he didn’t seem quite so sure.

“I made a promise to you earlier, though. I said I would come back. Even if my choice were to be Tommy Banks, I should want to let you know...” Even as she said the words, she began to accept them. They didn’t sound right, even to herself, and she hated the unfortunate circumstances that forced her to consider loving one other than Posco. “Of course, if you didn’t want to see me then, I would understand,” she said, and stopped. This was coming out all wrong, and it would be easy to see how she might have caused Posco to misunderstand her. “Oh Posco, I must sound a blundering fool. But I will hope to come back, some day, and if I do it will be for you and no other.” She wished she could be more certain, but there was a niggling doubt in the back of her mind that she might not return, compounded by Posco’s request that she give Tommy a chance.

Suddenly she felt as if she were drowning in responsibilities. She could have remained in Bree; very likely Tommy Banks would now be courting her, and she would have been happy, because she would not have known Posco. She couldn’t change the past at any rate, and she wouldn’t want to, either, all told. Even with all the complications, they must be worth working them out. So far it had proved to be so. Simply running away seemed to be a great deal more desirable than when she had first presented the option only minutes before, but she knew that the solution would be much more difficult than that.

It occurred to her then how much it must have taken on Posco’s part to make the request. He wanted her to be happy, even if that meant she married Tommy. Surely that would cause untold hurt to him, but he had still asked. How selfish she had been, thinking only of herself!

“I will miss you,” she murmured, though her voice was still completely audible. “Even giving Tommy a chance won’t stop that.”

[piosenniel]

‘Masters Ferrin and Fallon!’ Two heads swung about to see Cook standing behind them, hands on ample Hobbit hips. I hope they’ve not been filling your head with horrible stories about our little custom,’ she said addressing Derufin. She cocked her head to one side, looking at the man. ‘Though by the look on your face it seems you have heard the worst of it.’ She tapped her foot quietly on the wooden floor.

Ferrin took a pull at his mug, then cleared his throat. ‘Now, Miz Bunce . . . we were just giving him the widest of views of what might happen.’ Fallon nodded his head in agreement. ‘Tis good to be a little afeared of the unknown, so my old granda says,’ he chimed in. ‘Besides, the old man here’s one of us now . . . no reason he should be spared some good Shire fun.’

Cook’s face cracked into a wide grin and she chuckled at the earnestness of the two lads. ‘I’m beginning to think that you two might have decided to have a hand in organizing the shivaree,’ she chortled, raising her brows at them. The two clamped their mouths shut tightly, but the decided glimmer of impish plans surfaced in their eyes and their lips, of themselves, curved up in knowing smiles. ‘I see,’ she pronounced, nodding her head knowingly. She looked at Derufin, his face registering bafflement. She patted him on the arm. ‘’Twill be fine, Master Derufin. ‘Tis an enjoyable custom . . . even the caterwauling.’ She beamed as an idea came into her head. ‘I’ve some old pans and lids stored down in the cellar,’ she said, winking at Fallon and Ferrin. ‘Mind you keep your hands off my working set and you can borrow those others.’ She cleared her throat and made one further offer. ‘And I might be persuaded to sing, too . . . providing there is a wee dram of those Dwarven spirits available . . .’ She gazed meaningfully at Derufin. A call from the kitchen cut further conversation short as she turned hastily to take care of the problem.

‘Now you should be afraid,’ whispered Fallon, leaning over the table toward Derufin. ‘Oh, aye,’ said Ferrin, filling their mugs once again. ‘We should all be afraid.’ Derufin took a gulp of ale, raising his brows over the rim. ‘Miz Bunce,’ continued Ferrin. ‘You’ve never heard her sing, have you?