The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Larien Telemnar]

Larien looked up in surprise to see a man standing before her.
'Would you mind if I joined you, my Lady? It would be an honour'. He bowed, smiled, and waited for her answer. For a moment Larien was speachless. Aparently this stranger wished to sit with her. What was it about the Shire that people were so friendly to her, an Elven-raised Halfling who was running from her past? Why weren't people more suspiscious, even travelers like this man.

She realized that she couldn't leave this man standing before her all day, so she rose and curtseyed.

She smiled up at him. 'Yes please join me, Sir. I would be happy to share my table.' She indicated the chair oposite her and sat down once more.

She could tell from his attire that he was a traveller, and a man of Rohan. Curiosity drowned out her own cautious nature, so she decided to make conversation.

'From whence do you come, Sir, if you don't mind my asking. You are man of Rohan, if I am not mistaken, and that is a place far off from this.'

[Seth Cotton]

Éothen nodded and sat down in the opposite chair with his tea and bread. He started to eat a little of his bread, and he noticed the woman was looking at him. He looked up at her, smiling friendly, then she asked 'From whence do you come, Sir, if you don't mind my asking. You are man of Rohan, if I am not mistaken, and that is a place far off from this.'.

‘True.’ Éothen said shortly and cleaned his hands with the napkin. ‘Far indeed; it was a long journey here.’ He smiled and sipped some of his tea, the aroma was delightful and the heat from the tea sparkled and warmed hup his whole body. He had a recovering feeling that he got from the tea, he looked down in the cup, but as it appeared just normal he shrugged.

‘Oh, and yes, maybe I should introduce myself closer.’ He chuckled and put his plate of bread and napkin away. ‘I am Éothen, Captain of Rohan. I serve King Éomer.’ He paused, but then added. ‘I am not on duty now, of course, this is a small private journey off-duty made for pleasure and exploring.’

The woman appeared troubled to him, sort of uncomfortable. He glanced around from side to side, trying to see if there was something nearby that made her feel uncomfortable. ‘My Lady...’ He started again, but stopped. He didn’t want to question her right away, it wouldn’t be polite. Especially as they barely knew each other.

‘And what is your name, my Lady? Are you from around here?’ He forced a smile, just to ease up the situation a little and took another sip off his tea.

[Alcarillo]

Alcarillo swallowed his mouthful of bacon, dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, cleared his throat, and when the elderly hobbit woman seemed to be losing patience, spoke.

"I have not seen the innkeeper all morning, madam, but I'm sure that one of the servers could direct you to her," he answered. Remembering to be courteous, he said "Please, have a seat." Alcarillo gestured to an empty chair at his table. "My name is Alcarillo Nession, and I'm from Harlindon. Are you hungry?"

Alcarillo was finishing his breakfast, but still felt it was rude to be eating in front of her while she ate nothing. Alcarillo pushed his half-eaten plate of bread across the table towards her. "Here, have some bread."

[Nerindel]

Lúrëaelda's return

A low sun shone bright in the clear blue morning sky, as Lúrëaelda rounded a the hill that led to the Green Dragon inn. The road was dry and small dust clouds rose in his wake, leaving a thin covering on the deerskin boots that covered his feet and half way up his calf. As the familiar sounds and smells of the inn reached this ears and eyes he looked up, his unusual piercing yellow eyes glistening in silent recognition at the familiar sight of the green dragon hanging almost welcomingly over the door.

A single voice coming from the rear of the inn caused the Silvan Hunter to freeze, his dark grey skin paling as he recalled the admonishments of the inns Cook the last time he had arrived at the inn. As he remembered it he had been innocent in the whole incident, but still Ms Vinca Bunce was not one to upset especially when it came to food and the payment thereof.

“No, surely she will not remember,” he swallowed shaking his head and turning away from the busy kitchen sounds and facing again the welcoming entrance of the inn. It had been sometime since he had left and as well as being a little taller than before he was now more sure of himself. A lot had happened since his last visit some good and some not so, but in all that time one image had burned in his memory.

A wry grin reached his lips as he ran a nervous hand through his dark cropped hair, disturbing the thin silvery braid from his shoulder so it fell down his back over the dusty hide jacket that covered the garb of an elf of Eryn Lasgalen, would she even remember me he wondered fleetingly. Then adjusting the bow and pack on his shoulders he pushed open the green door and stepped inside, his eyes hopingly searching for the friendly warm smile of the Dragon’s innkeeper.

[Larien Telemnar]

Larien smiled when Eothen mentioned being one of the rohirrim. She recalled an adventure she had had a few years ago in Rohan. She had the privilage to meet the King and many of the soldiers and captains. She wondered if she had met this man before.

Her smile faded quickly when she remembered the consequences of that adventure, though. One of the very events that had led to her sitting at that table with this stranger in the Shire.

‘My Lady...’ She looked up quickly, remembering her manners, hoping he had not noticed her attentions wandering off. The Stranger's voice trailed off, a look of uncertainty crossing his face. I hope I haven't offended him in some way. She worried to herself.


‘And what is your name, my Lady? Are you from around here?’

Larien's face flushed with embarresment when she realized she had forgotten her manners and failed to introduce herself.

'Forgive me sir!' She cried. 'I am Larien Telemnar. I am a traveller, going from one place to another- but there was a time that I lived in Rivendell, as the adopted daughter of Lord Elrond.'

[Pivli]

Violet sat down on the offered chair; perched, that is, like some small green bird, on the seat’s edge. ‘The fellow is nice enough,’ she thought to herself, ‘but Violet you don’t really know him now, do you?’

His offer to share his bread with her, however, melted her reserve somewhat, and she smiled at him. ‘Well, now that would be quite nice,’ she said, scooting herself back in the chair.’

The elder hobbit loosened the ties on her black and beflowered bonnet and set it carefully to one side of the table. She patted her graying curls, hoping they had not got all wild and flyaway when she removed the hat.

‘My name is Miz Greengage. Violet Greengage. Live up by The Pool,’ she said, introducing herself. ‘Very nice to make your acquaintance Master Nession.’ Violet glanced about the room, hoping to see someone who looked as if they were in charge.

‘I wonder - might I have the pot of jam, there, too, if you don’t mind?’ she said as he pushed the basket of bread toward her. ‘And one other, small request, if you don’t mind. I haven’t been into town in a great number of years. Who is the Innkeeper these days?’

[Seth Cotton]

Éothen smiled back to her, being in a pretty good mood. He fiddled some with his hair, spun the hair around his fingers as they went on talking. It was a habit he had as long as he could remember. The woman then exclaimed as Éothen had asked for her name.

'Forgive me sir!' She cried. 'I am Larien Telemnar. I am a traveller, going from one place to another- but there was a time that I lived in Rivendell, as the adopted daughter of Lord Elrond.'

For a moment he thought she looked sad, into deep thoughts of sorrow. And that she after this statement returned into them. Éothen nodded slowly at her. He didn't know what to say.

'Lady Telemnar.' He said, nodding again, 'I guess you have great experience in travelling to distant places?' He grinned slightly, but only felt stupid as she saw she was unhappy. Her expression spoke of a sorrow long forgotten that had returned as they spoke. He was curious, wondering what once happened to her.

'Lady Telemnar..? Is something wrong?' he asked, sounding worried. He leaned closer and glanced at her. She did not smile, Éothen was growing nervous and afraid of maybe have insulted or brought up something he shouldn't have.

[Folwren]

Wren reached up and took the handle of the wardrobe. Ginger smiled down at her and then they both pulled at the doors. It came open with a reluctant squeak and they swung the doors back to the wall behind it. Wren searched the dim insides with bright, expectant eyes as Ginger reached forward and opened drawers and pulled out different dresses and aprons to go with them. Wren’s eyes got brighter and brighter as Ginger pulled out more. Finally, the hobbit stopped what a triumphal ‘Aha!’ and held out a dress that looked like it might possibly fit the small form of the girl.

Ginger helped Wren take off her first dress, worn from the constant travel and use and with the dirt of the road clinging to it’s folds, and put her into the new outfit. She did up the buttons in the back and then put an apron about her and tied it in the back around her waste to bring the dress in (it was, of course, to wide for her there).

“Does it look pretty?” Wren asked, looking down at herself as well as she could and turning about to make the skirt swirl. Ginger smiled and led her with gentle hands to the mirror at the other side of the room. Wren nearly squealed for joy when she saw her reflection. She had not looked so nice for weeks, she knew. The dress was almost fit perfectly, and her hair was done up admirably. She turned to Ginger and took her hand with excitement and began pulling her back towards the door. “Can we go down to the kitchen and show Tim? He’ll like the new dress and he likes blue, too, so he’ll like the ribbons...”

She didn’t wait for an answer and hurried out with the hobbit in tow. In a minute, they were back in the kitchen. Tim and Aman were just walking back in through the door and Wren let go of Ginger’s hand and ran to him.

“Look, Tim! Ginger did up my hair all nice and found me a dress, and see, look, she even let me have blue ribbons for my hair and she’s real nice, Tim. Can we stay? Please, can we stay?”

Tim surveyed his little sister carefully with a small smile on his lips and a fond light in his eyes. Her last question brought a little stronger smile and he looked up at the others in the kitchen briefly. Then, turning his look back to his sister, he answered. “I don’t know yet, Wren. It’s not up to me. We’ll see what comes.”