The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Amanaduial the archer · 07-20-2005, 05:14 AM

Aman watched the boy from a few steps off, close enough to jump forward to prevent him coming from harm should he step too close or press to hard. But he seemed strangely at ease with the giant stallion - though dwarfed beside Taydoch's muscular eighteen hand figure, the boy's hand moved with gentleness and ease over the soft black coat. And, incredibly, the horse also seemed not to mind, nuzzling the boy's hand gently with his oddly angular face: as she had said, Taydoch was one of her three horses, but he was the youngest and most exciteable, barely a colt, and from wild stock - he was the product of a a Rohirrim stallion and an Easterling mare, and so was almost unique, beautiful yet serviceable, streamlined for running yet muscly and strong enough for combat, and with the fire from both his parents' stocks. The Innkeeper was fairly impressed, then, when she noted how calm both horse and boy were; he hadn't been exaggerating when he said he knew how to handle horses - even Merimac, the stablehand, wasn't particularly fond of dealing with Taydoch, simply because of the horse's size and the fact that, Merrimac claimed accusingly, 'it watched him'.

Aman gave the stallion a quick pat on the nose, then showed Tim around the stables, finishing with her own other two horses: a dappled grey mare whose very coat seemed to shiver into different tones like a cresting wave whenever she moved. She went by the name of Rochfalmar, and had been a gift, or maybe just a loan, from a good friend of Aman's - an elf by the name of Pio, the previous Innkeeper at the 'Dragon. And lastly, the most recent addition to her little team: Felarof, another black stallion but this time descended from the line of the meeras, and as such one of the finest horses in the South - a present from Aman's good friend and grandfather (as strange a wording as that may seem), Tar-Corondir.

As they left the stables, Aman felt it may have been safe to ask a few more questions about the boy - maybe he did not trust her yet, but he was more at ease. "How old are you, Tim? And your sister?"

Folwren · 07-20-2005, 11:35 AM

Wren, in the kitchen, stepped back away from the stove, wiping her hands on her apron as Ginger offered to do her hair. She smiled shyly and nodded.

“I’d like that,” she said quietly. “Should we take off the aprons first?”

Ginger agreed with one of her many smiles and they took off the aprons and hung them up. Ginger fetched the brush, comb, and ribbons and sat Wren down in one of the kitchen chairs and commenced to brush out her hair.

There were many tangles and for some time, the Hobbit worked in silence. Wren sat as still as she could, swaying back when the brush caught on a particularly hard knot, and going forward again when her hair was released. She showed no sign of any pain, for she felt little - Ginger was gentle.

“I like you,” the little girl said after many minutes of silence. “You’re nice. I hope Tim says we can stay. We haven’t met anyone like you on the road. Most people didn’t like people from outside the Shire, you know. One person let us sleep in their barn once and in the morning when some eggs were missing, he accused Tim of stealing them and didn’t let us stay for breakfast even. But it wasn’t Tim,” she said with a slight sigh. Her hand picked absently at a thread in her dress as she stared out the kitchen door and continued talking. “It was one of their dogs. I saw him get into the nests. But the fellow was very mean to Tim and I think Tim would have gotten mad back if he had any chance of convincing him that he hadn’t done it.” Gingner was braiding her hair now and Wren turned her head slightly and changed the subject abruptly. “Can you use the blue ribbon? That’s my favorite color.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking across the yard again, Aman asked Tim how old he and his sister was. “I’m almost eleven,” Tim said, looking up at her briefly. “And she’s eight and a half.” He stopped and gnawed on his lip thoughtfully for a brief moment and went on. “I know we’re kinda little and we may not look like we can do much, but we’re not weak, and neither of us are dull.”

Aman smiled kindly, and shook her head. “No, I’m sure you’re not,” she half murmured.

Larien Telemnar · 07-20-2005, 12:23 PM

Larien sat at a table, enjoying her breakfast in silence. She watched the other patrons, her saphire eyes roving about, searching for something of interest. She had a slight hangover from a little too much ale the night before, but she chose to ignore it.

She noticed that a young lad and lass were there, although they seemed to have no father or mother with them. She wondered curiously what they were doing out alone. She noticed how quiet the boy was with the great stallion, and how much help the girl was in the kitchen.

'I wonder who they are.' She pondered aloud.

07-20-2005, 12:23 PM	#3
Larien Telemnar Wight Join Date: May 2005 Location: Frogmorton, The Shire, Middle-Earth Posts: 110	Larien sat at a table, enjoying her breakfast in silence. She watched the other patrons, her saphire eyes roving about, searching for something of interest. She had a slight hangover from a little too much ale the night before, but she chose to ignore it. She noticed that a young lad and lass were there, although they seemed to have no father or mother with them. She wondered curiously what they were doing out alone. She noticed how quiet the boy was with the great stallion, and how much help the girl was in the kitchen. 'I wonder who they are.' She pondered aloud. Last edited by Larien Telemnar; 07-20-2005 at 12:28 PM.

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07-20-2005, 05:14 AM	#1
Amanaduial the archer Shadow of Starlight Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: dancing among the ledgerlines... Posts: 2,347	Aman watched the boy from a few steps off, close enough to jump forward to prevent him coming from harm should he step too close or press to hard. But he seemed strangely at ease with the giant stallion - though dwarfed beside Taydoch's muscular eighteen hand figure, the boy's hand moved with gentleness and ease over the soft black coat. And, incredibly, the horse also seemed not to mind, nuzzling the boy's hand gently with his oddly angular face: as she had said, Taydoch was one of her three horses, but he was the youngest and most exciteable, barely a colt, and from wild stock - he was the product of a a Rohirrim stallion and an Easterling mare, and so was almost unique, beautiful yet serviceable, streamlined for running yet muscly and strong enough for combat, and with the fire from both his parents' stocks. The Innkeeper was fairly impressed, then, when she noted how calm both horse and boy were; he hadn't been exaggerating when he said he knew how to handle horses - even Merimac, the stablehand, wasn't particularly fond of dealing with Taydoch, simply because of the horse's size and the fact that, Merrimac claimed accusingly, 'it watched him'. Aman gave the stallion a quick pat on the nose, then showed Tim around the stables, finishing with her own other two horses: a dappled grey mare whose very coat seemed to shiver into different tones like a cresting wave whenever she moved. She went by the name of Rochfalmar, and had been a gift, or maybe just a loan, from a good friend of Aman's - an elf by the name of Pio, the previous Innkeeper at the 'Dragon. And lastly, the most recent addition to her little team: Felarof, another black stallion but this time descended from the line of the meeras, and as such one of the finest horses in the South - a present from Aman's good friend and grandfather (as strange a wording as that may seem), Tar-Corondir. As they left the stables, Aman felt it may have been safe to ask a few more questions about the boy - maybe he did not trust her yet, but he was more at ease. "How old are you, Tim? And your sister?" __________________ I am what I was, a harmless little devil

07-20-2005, 11:35 AM	#2
Folwren Messenger of Hope Join Date: Jun 2005 Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States. Posts: 5,076	Wren, in the kitchen, stepped back away from the stove, wiping her hands on her apron as Ginger offered to do her hair. She smiled shyly and nodded. “I’d like that,” she said quietly. “Should we take off the aprons first?” Ginger agreed with one of her many smiles and they took off the aprons and hung them up. Ginger fetched the brush, comb, and ribbons and sat Wren down in one of the kitchen chairs and commenced to brush out her hair. There were many tangles and for some time, the Hobbit worked in silence. Wren sat as still as she could, swaying back when the brush caught on a particularly hard knot, and going forward again when her hair was released. She showed no sign of any pain, for she felt little - Ginger was gentle. “I like you,” the little girl said after many minutes of silence. “You’re nice. I hope Tim says we can stay. We haven’t met anyone like you on the road. Most people didn’t like people from outside the Shire, you know. One person let us sleep in their barn once and in the morning when some eggs were missing, he accused Tim of stealing them and didn’t let us stay for breakfast even. But it wasn’t Tim,” she said with a slight sigh. Her hand picked absently at a thread in her dress as she stared out the kitchen door and continued talking. “It was one of their dogs. I saw him get into the nests. But the fellow was very mean to Tim and I think Tim would have gotten mad back if he had any chance of convincing him that he hadn’t done it.” Gingner was braiding her hair now and Wren turned her head slightly and changed the subject abruptly. “Can you use the blue ribbon? That’s my favorite color.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Walking across the yard again, Aman asked Tim how old he and his sister was. “I’m almost eleven,” Tim said, looking up at her briefly. “And she’s eight and a half.” He stopped and gnawed on his lip thoughtfully for a brief moment and went on. “I know we’re kinda little and we may not look like we can do much, but we’re not weak, and neither of us are dull.” Aman smiled kindly, and shook her head. “No, I’m sure you’re not,” she half murmured.