The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Nurumaiel]

Falco gazed up at the Elf woman in deep amazement, and fumbled about with his hands. He was at a complete loss for words in the face of her kind smile, and he felt upset with himself. What had he said to make her apologise so? He had wanted to see these Elves apologise, but now that this fair lady was... it was not right. She had done nothing wrong. But... how could he say even that?

"I do not know what I would have you do," he faltered, feeling inclined to drop his eyes again, yet unable to take his eyes from her kind face. "Do what you think best for the lad. I know I can do nothing for him but be his friend... but perhaps you can help him more than that."

"Do you think," she said, "that to help restore the use of his legs would be a better help than the love and kindness you will show him?"

He crimsoned at her open use of the words 'love' and 'kindness' in relation to how he felt towards the lad, and at the not at all subtle implication of praise in her words. He could think of nothing to say, but again: "Do what you think best." And then he hurried to sit beside Rory and Marigold before she would say anything further.

Marigold smiled shyly up at him, and when he looked down at her he started momentarily, the vague feeling of familiarity stirred up in him again, as it had been at the hand-fasting the day before. He felt, as he had then, that he had known her before, and it puzzled him.

"I do look to you, Mr. Headstrong," she said. "You've been kinder to me than any other hobbit since my dear mamma and papa died."

He started again, more violently this time. He had not known that her parents were dead. He had wondered absently why she was wandering about with no one to care for her, but he had never guessed that she had no parents.

She put a little hand on his arm and looked up at him with big, shining, earnest eyes. "Will you take care of me?" she asked.

Falco looked quickly away and coughed, and made a grunting noise that could be taken as either agreement or dissent. Of course he would, if she wanted to him, and even if she didn't really care if he did or not. But this was getting much too sentimental. Little hobbit girls could have big shining eyes, but it was awkward when they were looking up at a crusty old hobbit. Much too sentimental.

"Do you know, it has gotten quite late, and I did not notice!" he said, coughing hastily again. "Why don't we find a nice table to sit at, my lad and lass, and prepare ourselves for the delicious supper that is no doubt waiting for us?"

[littlemanpoet]

Uien rose as Falco Headstrong led Rory and Marigold to a table, and turned to Mithalwen. "It seems that we must wait until after supper to take a measurement, unless you trust your eye."

"There is time," Mithalwen replied.

Uien frowned. "I fear I use the osanwé overmuch. As easily not perceive the thoughts of those around me as not to smell a rose that is held before my face."

"I do not blame you for its use."

"Thank you," Uien smiled. Then she turned, and shared her thought with Mithalwen. "Did you notice that, a shock in someone? A man who calls himself Snaveling. I wonder what befalls there?"

[Tevildo]

Camille had finished the last of the chores that Cook had assigned and had even gotten permission to join her family for supper. “Just tonight, mind you,” Cook hastily explained. “I can’t have you in the kitchen chopping and scrubbing while your family has its first meal in the Inn, especially not when Master Falco was so kind to set up everything.”

Camille had nodded in agreement and stolen a quick look at the five cakes that had been set on a sideboard in the kitchen. These were small cakes but not too small: each one just the right size for a hearty hobbit appetite. “Out with you now, Miz Camille,” Cook had chastised her lightly. “No use fixing on the end of the meal until you get through the beginning.”

Then Camille had helped to carry out a tureen of stew and a platter heaped high with biscuits to the table where her family was sitting. On one end of the table Falco presided. Rory was seated on his left and Marigold on his right. She and her mother were next to each other on the opposite end facing their benefactor.

Camille beamed brightly at her mother. “Ma, you look pretty tonight.” For her mother indeed looked far happier and more radiant than Camille had seen her for some time. She was wearing her nicest dress, a green skirt with a vest of brown and a small lace collar; she had combed back her thick red curls, and had even fastened a ribbon with a locket about her neck. Camille wondered if Master Falco had noticed how lovely her mother looked. She wondered if there wasn’t some way to get her mother to sit beside Mister Falco instead of Rory, but she didn’t know how to do that politely.

When her mother and Master Falco began discussing the arrangement with the laundry, Camille got out of her seat to give her brother a hug. She noticed he had found one of the little placards on which appeared the names of the foods that were to be served at the Inn for that particular day. Rory could not read the words but was carefully tracing the letters with the tip of his finger. He did not stop even when the stew and biscuits were set on the table in front of him. The young boy asked Camille to read the words for him, but she just threw up her hands and laughed, “I’m no good with words, Rory. Perhaps Master Falco can help you, or even Marigold.”

[Mithalwen]

Snaveling! Mithalwen's curiosity about the man had been her reason for staying and now she had got caught up with first Marigold and then Camille and Rory. She had only come to the inn to shelter from the foul weather and this would be her third night. Tonight was paid for but if she needed to stay longer for Rory's sake .. well she would think about that tomorrow.

At least, Uien had made her aware of the source of Mr Headstrong's resentment - injured pride. Uien and she had made the same understandable mistake... elvish communities were it seemed more communal than hobbit ones. Different people had different skills but used them largely for the common good. She started in her gentlest, humblest tones,

"Mr Headstrong, I believe braces could be made to straighten and support young Rory's legs while his limbs strengthen. I have the skill to do this, but I do not have the resources since I am merely travelling through the land. Perhaps you know where I could obtain, the steel and leather I will need - for local folk know best where to find these things and get the best value......"

Falco had seemed mollified to be asked for his advice and promised to give it his consideration. Mithalwen thought ruefully of her workshop at the havens. There she could have done this kindness using spare materials at no cost other than time. She hoped Falco might offer to pay for the materials but she suspected that if she admitted to her limited resources he would think her some penniless vagrant - at least a foolish traveller who did not think to prepare herself for her journey. He would not know that she had journeyed often to Rivendell but that this was the first time she had needed to spend more than trifling amounts. . She excused herself to the group audibly and Uien silently, giving her a fuller impression of why she felt the need to talk to Snaveling . "I will return after the meal".

She decided that she could afford wine at least and collecting a bottle of the local vintage (a fine drop thanks in part to the Lady Galadriel's gift) and slipped across to the obscure corner where Snaveling sat . " Tar Corondir.. may I join you? We have not had a chance to speak sice Marigold's mishap - from which she seems to have suffered no lasting effects - I hope you resolved the embarassment of her indiscretion with Miss Aman?" Then she was close enough to see the expression on his face and on whom his glance was fixed .. perhaps not... she sought to probe his mind "Tar Corondir, what has happened?"

[Child of the 7th Age]

Bella had spent most of the day quietly reading and napping in Cook's parlor. By evening her strength had returned, and she was ready to look at the rooms that Cook had mentioned. She had gone downstairs and found Ruby, who had escorted her over to a small suite of rooms located in a hallway off the back of the Inn. Thanks to Cook's instructions, the smallest of the rooms had already been tidied up for her use. It had a bed, a wardrobe, a table, and two chairs along with a shelf nailed onto the wall that would be excellent for storing her personal books and slates.

An adjoining room was large enough for a group of six or seven children to gather, sitting at tables and studying . Ruby explained that this particular chamber had not been used for some time. She removed the key from her belt and unlocked the door so that Bella could have a look. The schoolroom was a jumble of old furniture. Large dustballs rolled across the floor, and odds and ends were strewn everywhere. Still, Bella could see that it was a good size chamber. Best of all there was a large window that faced the garden and even a little door that opened to the outside. Along one wall were a series of cupboards and a small hearth where a fire could be lit on chilly days.

Bella looked about and smiled, "Yes, I believe this will do very well. Would you be kind enough to tell Cook that I plan to take her up on her offer? And please ask if she could use a bit of the money I gave her to assign a sturdy young lad or lass to help me haul out the furniture we don't need and get the schoolroom in shape. Meanwhile, I'll be working on a notice that I plan to post in the Common Room.

Tearing out one of the sheets from the back of her journal, Bella sat at the little table in the bedroom and began to write.

[elf-girl-63]

Aranel took out her rarely used handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. Now that Ferdy had prised open the gate to her feelings, she couldn't stop them rushing out. Breathing deeply and taking a gulp of ale, she organised her mind.

"I suppose... I suppose I do miss them. Well my brother especially. My sister, I didn't really get along with her. She was alway popular, as I said before but she was spiteful too. I remember once, I caught my dress on our nail in our house. I went to tell my mother but she got there before me and said I'd done it practising with my sword. I hadn't but of course my sister was believed and I was hit," seeing Ferdy's concerned look Aranel hurriedly added, "It didn't hurt too much and it was long ago."

While Ferdy nodded and continued eating (did hobbits ever stop?!), she gazed out the window and saw a dark pinky-blush sky. The day had cleared up and now evening was coming on quickly, she was glad she had a room for the night but wondered about others out on the open road. Her mysterious friend for example, where would he be now? She frowned as she remembered he'd given her no name but what use was it to her?

She turned her gaze and Aranel saw in Ferdy's face something she'd had little experience of in her lifetime. An unconditional love for his family and his home. Of course she missed the city, its interesting ways, its bright life but she did not pine for it as she knew he would this place. Her family and Minas Tirith went together as a package, like Ferdy and the Shire, they could never be separated. For some reason, the young woman felt she should resent the hobbit for it but she did not. All she felt was gladness... gladness that someone could feel such a deep-running affection for a place and people.

Aranel blinked suddenly and realised her melancholy mood was making her new acquaintance nervous. As she had stopped talking he was just gazing at the table as if he daren't look up in case she began sobbing again. She forced her mouth into an almost smile and touched his arm.

"Listen, I'm fine now. Would you like another drink? Or some more food? You hobbits do eat an awful lot!" She half-laughed but Aranel wondered if he could see her bright eyes.

[Huan]

‘I do have a few pieces of my work . . . two; no, three is all. And those are ones that I wear as personal ornament. Two of them really are the same – I brought a pair of links for my more formal shirt’s cuffs. They are fairly plain . . . a small gold anvil on one side, a chasing hammer on the other. Each one is set with a small beryl, a favorite gem of mine, and each a different color. But here . . .’

He reached for his cloak, rubbing the pin on its left shoulder to take away the film of dust from recent travel. He opened the clasp of the pin, taking it from its bed of dark blue wool. At first it appeared to be a starfish, worked in gold . . . five pointed as the creature is, yet upon closer inspection, irregular about its borders. The middle, too was raised up to a definite point, and in it was set a small, many faceted clear gem.

‘This is lovely!’ one of Anyopâ’s tablemates said. ‘Something tickled in my memory as you removed it from the blue folds of your cloak . . .’

[piosenniel]

Supper was moving along nicely. The cold of the earlier day had sharpened people’s appetites and they tucked in with appreciation to the chicken stew, thick with taters and carrots, and the big, fluffy biscuits that accompanied it. They were thirsty, too. The hours of confinement in the Common room as the rain pelted down had dried their throats mightily as they strove against the inclement weather with friendly conversation and pipeweed.

Never mind that the sun had come out late in the afternoon and the weather turned more pleasant. Once those in the Inn had their seats planted firmly on the comfortable chairs and benches, a pipe in their hand and a neighbor to jaw with, no amount of sunshine would flush them out.

Camille and her family looked to be having a good time, thought Cook as she peered out the doors from the kitchen. The girl was a good worker for one so young. Cook pondered the possibility of having one of the maids show her soon the routine for getting a room ready for a guest. The Spring Faire would be coming on soon; it always drew in a great lot of visitors. Many hands would be needed to keep things in order in the kitchen, the laundry, and the rooms to let. It was best if workers knew more than just one job. She was half-way through her ponderings when Ruby came in, bearing a tray of dirty dishes.

‘I thought you were helping Miz Bella?’ asked Cook, coming over to help scrape the plates.

‘We’ve got about as far as we could get before supper,’ returned Ruby, setting the scraped dishes into the deep pan of soapy water. ‘She said for me to tell you she was going to “take you up on your offer”.’ Ruby dried her hands on a dish towel and looked at Cook expectantly. But Cook only said, ‘Ah! Good!’

‘She also asked me,’ Ruby went on, ‘to have you find a helper of some sort for her. To get things carted about and arranged and all that. Said you should use some of that money she gave you.’ Again Cook was not forthcoming, her thoughts turning to whom she might spare.

Camille hurried into the kitchen just as Ruby, exasperated with trying to find out about “offers” and “money” had loaded a platter with bowls of stew and baskets of biscuits and was heading for the Common Room. The young lass, it seemed, was after another pot of honey and one of butter for the biscuits. While Cook showed her where to find them, she asked Camille if she would be willing to take on a small task for her. It would help out immensely, and there was the promise of a certain number of coins a week and meals, of course, while the job lasted. A strong worker was needed by one of the new Inn guests to move about small boxes and odds and ends of furniture. And any other handiwork that might be needed. And did Camille think she could do such a job?

‘But no need to answer me now, dear. Enjoy the rest of your meal. Then come see me when dessert is done and they’re all sitting about talking. If you’re interested, we can start you tomorrow on it. She’s a nice lady you’ll be working for if you decide to take it on.’ She gave the girl a push out the door. ‘Go on now and finish your meal . . . And don’t forget to save room for cake!’

Cook watched as Camille made her way to the table where her family and Mister Headstrong and Marigold were sitting. ‘She’ll do nicely, I think,’ Cook nodded to herself. ‘Be a real help for Miz Bella.’ At the thought of Miz Bella, Cook sent one of the servers to her room to ask if she might like to take her supper in the kitchen, or would she like it sent along to her room . . .