The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Amanaduial the archer]

Not wanting to intrude upon the solemn affairs that Esgalhugwen talked of to Falowik, Aman had murmured a few polite words and quietly excused herself from their company. After all, she did have an Inn to run, even if it did seem to be part-schoolroom, and even if it did manage to get along quite well enough without her help sometimes. Running a hand through her hair, the Innkeeper surveyed the Common Room thoughtfully, one hand on her hips; she had neglected it somewhat over the past few days, she supposed, and no doubt would need to make it up to Cook at some point. Goodness knows how the old hobbit woman matron deserved it, a break - but on the other hand, it wasn't like she would ever dream of taking one.

As if the very thought could conjure her up, the aforementioned Miz Bunce bustled past Aman as she spoke, heading for the kitchen purposefully. As she did so, she almost ran into a small hobbit lad, and Aman caught her elbow instinctively. Distangling herself from the younger Innkeeper, Vinca raised her eyebrows amusedly at Aman. "Now, now, Aman, I'm not a senile old bodger yet."

The Innkeeper blushed slightly. "Oh! Oh, no, sorry Cook, I didn't mean to cause any...any offence..." she trailed off as she saw that Vinca was laughing at her, and raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Ah. I'm just being mocked as usual. Well, very well, do carry on..." she replied sarcastically. Cook nudged her companionably, tutting good-naturedly. "Ah, hush now, Aman: you're as bad as some of these little'uns!"

As the hobbit woman bustled away, leaving the Innkeeper with this comment, Aman took a second then hurried after her. "What do you mean by that, hmm?" she challenged, pretending to take offence. Her half-moon glasses perched on her round nose - unusually, for Cook did not usually wear them unless she was doing the accounts - Vinca looked severely up at Aman, taking on the role of scolding school teacher. "Having a paddy indeed, Aman - as bad as any of these 'ere children! Not that I mind having the little ones about the place, of course - keeps you young, isn't that what they say, hmm?" Chuckling to herself, Vinca departed in her purposeful potter towards the kitchen, leaving Aman to muse on the hanging rhetorical question. Glancing about at the room, she eyed the hobbit children, who were now reluctantly allowing themselves to be gathered in by Miz Bella, and grinned to herself as she went about gathering the plates and cups already left over from the beginnings of lunch. By the fiercely good-natured determination on the young schoolteacher's face, she wasn't sure Miz Bella would agree with Cook's last statement.

Reading, 'Riting and 'Rithmatic - the three 'r's, taught since the beginning of time by schoolteachers everywhere, and no doubt to be taught to every groaning schoolchild until the end of the worlds came and the gods sailed from the West. Would Miz Bella inject any extras? After all, the Green Dragon was a very unusual Inn; it would be fitting that what was taught was a little different... And it wasn't as if there was any lack of teachers around here from any walk of life, who could teach the budding students any number of things - however irrelevant, it would certainly be an interesting education! Why, Snaveling, or Tar-Corondir as Mithalwen named him: his knowledge of Dunedain history was detailed and from several perspectives, especially the history tracking Gondor for the last century at least, being as he had lived through it; and his knowledge of the court of Gondor. And Miz Bunce? If she could be prised away from her beloved kitchen ad duties, she had a wealth of knowledge of cookery and gardening which Aman solemnly believed was sorely to be matched by any in the Shire, plus her rigid ideas of morals and etiquette, especially for young hobbit lasses. And for the boys? Well, Derufin was able to turn his hand to just about everything - include teaching and he could probably impart some of his useful skills to the children, while Zimzi, his darling new wife, had her own skills...

And why not? The musings carried Aman along in a daze as she patrolled the Common Room. The Three 'R's - add to them botany, cooking, etiquette, history, geography... Her gaze alighted on Hearpwine and Aman almost clicked her fingers as she realised a vital skill for any small hobbit: music-making! In her inquisitive and flowingly curious state of mind, Aman 'accidentally' caught the end of Mithalwen's reply to the Rohirrim Bard.

"...and at all times the necessaries of life - but my greatest delight, and I hope skill, is in the making of instruments of music."

"And who is to say those things are not one and the same?" Aman interjected, smiling warmly at Mithalwen. The elf looked surprised - after all, their interchanges yesterday had not been exactly warm - but picking up on the sincerity of Aman's expression, Mithalwen hesitantly returned the gesture. Hearpwine seemed unaware of the tension, his broad features breaking out into a proud smile as he nodded approvingly up at Aman. "Spoken like a true Rohirrim!"

Mithalwen seemed to wince slightly, and bearing in mind Aman's newly discovered ancestry, the irony of the statement did not escape Aman, but she managed to limit her reaction to a mere twitch of the eyebrow. Covering it up, she continued to clear the glasses on the couple's table onto her tray. "Aye, well, music is the food of life, Hearpwine, as well you know - and talking of which, would you too like lunch at all?"

Mithalwen politely declined but it didn't take much cajoling from the Innkeeper, who would not take no for an answer, for her to accept; Hearpwine was, as always, ready for the Green Dragon's hearty but homely feasts. ("All well and good, just so long as he stays out of the kitchen from now on," Vinca had muttered darkly.) But before she left, Hearpwine commented on Aman's thoughtfulness, and the way she kept glancing towards the school children. Seeing the perfect opening, Aman clicked her fingers and jumped in. "Strange you should mention that, Master Hearpwine. I was...well, I was just thinking about how we could maybe...erm...'extend' the class's curriculum."

"Oh yes?" Mithalwen replied, apparently interested as she leant forward, eyebrows raised. Aman perched on the edge of the seat for a moment, speaking excitedly as she outlined her proposal of all the Inn's denizens and staff had to offer. "I mean," she concluded. "Hearpwine has already attempted to entreat them with music, and were your songs not well recieved?"

"Indeed, indeed, Innkeeper," the bard secondly heartily, taking a quick pull at his fast-emptying pint. "But you yourself, do you not play an instrument?"

The Innkeeper shrugged. "I have not played a harp in many years, Hearpwine, but I remain a vocalist, I hope..." she shrugged again as she rose from her seat, not one used to blowing her own trumpet. "It's just an idea really."

"What does Miz Bella think?" Mithalwen asked.

Aman ran her tongue around her lips anxiously, wincing slightly. "I haven't exactly broached it with her yet," she replied carefully. "But...well...maybe I will..." she added thoughtfully. On that note, her head full of possibilities, the Innkeeper swept off to prepare food, drinks, and a proposal to Miz Bella...

[piosenniel]

Tea with Lithmîrë is finalized; the Artichoke merchant is sent for . . .

‘I’ve been stared at by Elves more bristly than you, Master Lithmîrë,’ said Cook staring back up at the tall fellow. She really didn’t like folk looking down on her, especially with the ‘look’. She was not that short for a Hobbit. Just right in fact, in her opinion. And being short did not mean she could be easily pushed about.

Cook chuckled to herself, recalling how Mistress Piosenniel had tried to ‘manage’ her as she gazed down from her height. ‘Just say what you need and I’ll accommodate as I can. No need to get your hackles up. Tea out of doors will be fine. Perhaps we can just step round in and hour or so to the little bower out near where the groundskeeper’s cottage is.’ She oriented herself and pointed in the direction she meant. ‘It’s a nice private place where two gardeners can talk without fear of turning the others about them to stone from the boring details of plant and dirt. I happen to know that the groundskeeper and his wife will both be gone for the afternoon.’

She led him over to the pump in the Inn’s back yard. ‘Now, if you will, just give the handle a few up-and-downs and I can get my hands washed.’ She did the same for him, worming out of him with her small chitchat what sort of sweets he might like with his tea.

Cook came round to the front door of the Inn, looking for one of the young fellows she’d set to tending the flowers in the front gardens. He wasn’t there, but he’d done a most excellent job so far with the weeding and the pinching back. His tools, she noted, were neatly lined up by where he’d left off. She nodded approvingly. ‘Gone into the Inn for a bite,’ she thought to herself.

Aman was there as she crossed the Common Room. The dear girl had maneuvered her aside to avoid one of the youngsters that was haring back toward the schoolroom. She tossed the young woman a few short comments, her eyes twinkling as she did so. As she hurried on to the kitchen, she could see the vaguely perplexed look on the Innkeeper’s face. ‘Keep her on her toes!’ she chuckled.

Ginger came up to her, just as Vinca was tying on her apron. The story of Artifondo and his artichokes was relayed. ‘Hmmm,’ said Cook, thinking how long it had been since she’d had a nice, plump artichoke to eat. All steamed up nicely; the leaves dipped in melted butter. ‘Have him come to the back door of the kitchen with a few of his ‘chokes. I’ll look them over and see if I want some, or not.’

She stepped into the pantry, looking for the dried plums she had stashed in the back. Out came the plums, sugar, flour, and the big crock of butter. ‘Plum tarts for dessert tonight,’ she announced to Buttercup, who was washing the dishes. ‘Can you mix up the icing to drizzle over them when they’ve cooled?’

[Noinkling]

Benat spies Derufin and Anyopa coming into the common room

As he waited for the arrival of soup, bread, and cheese, Benat looked curiously about the room. New people had arrived to swell the ranks of those he knew by name or at least sight. And he thought he’d seen, off to the side of the building, as he approached, a group of children eating together in a small courtyard and playing games. Now what was all that about, he wondered? He’d ask Ginger about it when she returned with his food.

He was just pouring himself another mug of cider, when he saw some fellows he’d met last night walk through the door, form the kitchen. Cullen thumped his tail at their approach. Benat stood, pulling out some chairs for them.

‘Come! Have something to eat and drink with me,’ he said in a hearty tone. ‘I’ve had the most amazing morning . . .’