The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Amanaduial the archer]

Having asked Ruby to fill out their order, Snaveling invited his new grand-daughter to join them at the table and, with a confused sort of half-pride, the Innkeeper did so. Valthalion, denied of his bow, immediately scrambled to his feet and pulled the chair out for her hurriedly, and Aman resisted the urge to swat him away in embarasment. However, she was saved joining the two men, for at that moment, she heard a voice outside, shouting loudly. Looking around, she craned her neck to look through the nearest window, but was unable to see the shouter. Deciding to ignore it, Aman began to sit - then realised the voice was female, and not only that, but that it sounded unmistakably like Uien. And following the elven woman's shouts came the voice of Falowik.

What the-

Alarmed, the Innkeeper rose and excused herself hastily, hurrying towards the Inn door. She had never once heard Falowik and Uien argue, beyond maybe a few reproachful words from one to the other - that would then, miraculously, be taken up. But to hear them shouting at each other in public...it was unthinkable. Throwing open the door, Aman rushed down the steps, looking around - and saw Uien lying writhing on the floor, an elven woman kneeling by her side. Rushing to her friend's side, Aman was about to reach for the other's face, then hesitated, unsure of whether she was allowed to touch the elf - what if she was indeed having some sort of fit? Where bipeds were involved, Aman's knowledge of first aid was sketchy at best. Panicked, she looked up at the woman on Uien's other side, her eyes wide and hopeless. "What is wrong with her?"

The elf shook her head, not looking at Aman, apparently concentrating on Uien's face, and Aman noted that one of her hands grasped the other elf's tightly. Feeling reassured, the woman hesitantly reached towards the prone elf's face.

"Get out! Get out, get out!"

Uien's sudden, terrified scream made Aman start backwards, falling backwards. But as Uien turned her head towards Aman, the Innkeeper saw the terror in the elf's eyes. Horrified and shocked, she stared uncomprendingly at Uien. "What on Middle Earth..." she whispered.

Practicality taking over, she looked around for the one person who had to know what was going on: Falowik. But her surprise was about to double as she saw the man, Uien's true love, walking away from the Inn - away from his beloved Uien. Scrambling to her feet, Aman ran after him, calling his name but to no response: he did not even turn, showing no recognition of his name. Reaching him, Aman grabbed his sleeve and he spun around to meet the breathless, bewildered Innkeeper. "Falowik, what...what on earth is going on, Falowik?"

[piosenniel]

Cook addresses Hearpwine

Cook’s gaze followed the tall man’s twitching fingers and cleared her throat just before they reached his harp. ‘Well now, actually we’re just beginning to serve lunch.’ She looked toward the sink, where a jumble of pots and pans used for preparing the day’s supper were waiting to be washed.

‘We could however use a hand with those,’ she said, nodding toward the stack. ‘Oh, and help yourself to the soup and bread and cheese. Best to fortify yourself . . . if you’re going to tackle the scrubbing, that is.’

She clasped her hand across her ample middle awaiting his decision. From the sideboard, where they were loading up their trays with tureens of soup and bowls and baskets of bread, two bright eyed servers paused to see what the man would do.

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik had only reached the road when he heard a female voice yelling something behind him. It could not have anything to do with me. He strode on. He heard running feet behind him, and then someone grabbed his arm and spun him around. It was Aman, breathless and anxious.

"Falowik, what...what on earth is going on, Falowik?"

"What mean you?"

She frowned. "With Uien! What is wrong with her? Why do you walk away from her, leaving her in such a frenzy?"

He pulled away from her grasp. "You would not understand." He turned away from her.

She ran around him and stopped, standing in front of him, hands on her hips. Hobbits here and there turned their heads in curiosity.

"Make me understand!"

"She-" He looked away, unwilling to say the words that would bring home to his heart words he did not wish to hear. He looked at her again; her face was fierce. "She has rejected me."

Aman looked stunned, her mouth dropping. "No. It cannot be." She pointed back to Uien. "She is in the throes of some evil. She could not-"

"Little you know what she could and could not do."

"And you know even less!"

Falowik threw up his hands. There was no arguing with this young Rohirric lass. He moved to walk around her, but she moved in his way again.

"Stay, Falowik! Do not leave! I am sure there must be some reason."

"Some reason she has rejected me? I can tell you, she wants an Elven mate with whom she can have an Elven child. Did you not see the carving she has made?"

[WarBringer]

Val was still reeling over the news of Snaveling's ancestry, when he learned that Aman was his granddaughter! Out of sheer courtesy, Valthalion rose to bow to her, but Aman stopped him. In truth, Val did not respect either of them in the least, and also did not appreciate the way Snaveling threw around the name of his king as if they were good friends. Snaveling had asked him what had happened to him since they had last met, and he answered...

"Snaveling, my friend, I am a simple ranger, and will not waste your valuable time with news of my toils in the wild. The lord Elessar sent my companions and I on many a perilious errand throughout the far reaches of the land upon my return. About six months ago, myself and a company of Rangers were caught in a fierce battle with wild men, who outnumbered us two to one. We attempted to escape, and a rear guard was assigned, consisting of myself and my close friend Elthonian. We fought for hours, running, climbing, and sneaking all the while, trying to escape to the nearest outpost. Eventually, my good friend was slain by a great chieftain, and though I wounded him with many wounds, I was overcome and captured. They brought me to their city, where I was tortured and starved, as the men hoped to learn of Elessar's movements. They meant to waylay him! Still, I would not give in. One day, during one of my meager meals, I seized an oppurtunity and slew my guard with his dagger. I was able to sneak away from the camp, and find the spot where Elthonian fell. I buried him and returned to Elessar, who praised me and presented me with my sword, Raukorist. He even offered to allow to retire to my home, to enjoy rest and reward for my valor. I would not do it, having been shamed by the death of my friend and my defeat by the hands of the chieftain. I gathered my belongings, few as they were, and have wandered since then in search of that chieftain, who bore a tattoo of the great Eye on his chest. I live, that I may slay him and avenge my sworn brother."

Val took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and clenched his fist. He looked up, and Snaveling was taken aback, speechless.

Val managed a small smile, and said "As you can see, I have been busy, so please excuse my ragged clothes. For now, Snaveling, in light of your wisdom and your closeness to Elessar's councils, I ask you to teach me what you may, so that I may become stronger and challenge the Warlord whom I long to destroy. Teach me of his lineage, if you can discern it, and anything else I would benefit from. Do this, and you will have my undying friendship, despite our differences."

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Hearpwine laughed aloud and slung his harp back upon his shoulder. Pushing his sleeves up to the elbows he strode toward the pile of dirty pots and grabbing one in each hand brandished them above his head crying, “You are quite right, Mistress Cook, I should work for my food! Why, when I was a lad my mother would insist that I take the occasional turn in the kitchen – she felt that it would do me good to feel lather between my fingers. I don’t know if she was right about the good it did me or not, but many’s the time I was washing pots I would realise that there would be a good deal less sorrow and bloodshed in the world if everyone had to take the effort to clean their own mess!” And with that, he plunged the pots into the basin, sending a wave of sudsy water onto the floor. Cook rushed forward clucking her tongue and making to mop the water, but the Bard shooed her back with a wave of his hand. “Nay, mistress Cook! I will mop that up myself when I am done!”

He washed the pots as though he meant to scrub the black from their iron, and soon he was so deeply absorbed in his task that his aimless humming began to emerge as a full blown song that he was but dimly aware of singing.

Every person in the nation
Or of great or humble station
Holds in highest estimation
Piping Tim of Glanhir
Loudly he can play or low
He can move you fast or slow
Touch your hearts or stir your toe
Piping Tim of Glanhir

When the wedding bells are ringing
His the breath to lead the singing
Then in jigs the folks go swinging
What a splendid piper
He will blow from eve to mourn
Counting sleep a thing of scorn
Old is he but not outworn
Know you such a piper?

When he walks the highways pealing
`Round his head the birds come wheeling
Tim has carols worth the stealing
Piping Tim of Glanhir
Thrush and Linnet, finch and lark
To each other twitter “Hark"
Soon they sing from light to dark
Pipings learnt in Glanhir

With the final line he made such a vigorous dash at a frying pan that he sent another huge wave of water over the lip of the basin that soaked his feet. But he merely laughed at this and hung up the pan before he grabbed a towel and began mopping the floor with it. So lost was he in his work and music, however, the Bard of Rohan failed to notice that he was using one of Cook’s best hand towels to slop up the mucky water that he had spilled upon the floor.

[Witch_Queen]

Avalon

Avalon sat perched on the table looking at Jon. I can't help you. I know not who you are and I don't care what your dreams reveal. I can't help you even if you asked for it. Something tells me to stay away from you and I mean to try to keep distance between us. Avalon didn't know why but seeing Jon just made her wish to fly away and never come back to Middle Earth.

Avalon looked at Dwaline. "Dwaline I still don't like the look of him. Just something about him still doesn't seem right. The look in his eyes say he's lieing to make us feel sorry for him. I don't like it." Avalon had a feeling that something was going to happen and that Jon was going to be the one to blame for it.

I'm not letting him out of my vision if I can help it. I don't know what he's actually doing here but still something about the look of him...... He's up to something and I plan on finding out what.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Seeing that there was distress in the face of Avalon, Dwaline grew slightly suspicious of John. More so than he had done previously. Avalon looked worriedly at Dwaline, who nodded and looked back at John. He had spotted something in the eyes of this man and ever more it made him curious. Dwaline took another puff on his pipe before eating some more cram.

"Tell me," Dwaline said leaning forward, "What can Aman tell you about you're Sarah that you do not know. She has lived in the shire for many years. I know it well, and it is well known to be a place that takes in little news from the outside world." Dwaline did not hide the suspicion in his question, he wanted to see if John would react or become nervous at his plying further into his business.

"You see this inn?" he asked rhetorically, "Many travellers come and go here, they tell their stories, some are existing and filled with danger and mystery. But none become widespread tales about Hobbiton. My Friend, if Aman has heard the truth bout Sarah, there is no doubt that it has been mingled with lies. You may send you’re self on a wild goose chase. And believe me, Wild geese oft lead you to danger."