The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[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.”

[Larien Telemnar]

'Lady Telemnar..? Is something wrong?'

Larien looked up suddenly, bringing her mind out of the memories of the past and tried to conentrate on the future. She gave a half-hearted smile.

'Forgive me sir. It seems as if I have returned to the road leading to the past, a place I often find myself these days.' She looked down at her hands uncomfortably, her fingers rubbing against the cloth of her skirt, as they always seemed to do when she was anxious. Perhaps I should tell tell this stranger my troubles. She thought. Perhaps he will not think ill of me.

She glanced at him to see a look of concern on his face, his eyes sincere and kind. After a short moment of deliberation, she resolved to tell her tale at last.

'I have only told the fair people at this inn about the early events of my life, bu only one other knows of my guilt, and the events that happened only within the last few years. I am the daughter of two Hobbits who wer travellers. One night while travelling through the misty mountains they were ambushed by Orcs. I was just an infant, so it was an easy task for my mother to hide me. Lord Elrond of Rivendell was travelling through the mountains and found me, took me home and raised me as his own daughter.' Here she paused to take a sip of her tea.

'I lived there for many years, untill the War of the Ring. I was lurking in the shadows during a council that was held, concerning Isildur's Bane. I thought to aid Middle-Earth in some way, so I ran away, against my father's wishes. A friend went with me, a young Elf by the name of Tyaro, as well as a few others. We had travelled to Rohan ten years before that, and decided that we would travel there first. After travelling to Rohan, we wandered about, fighting small bands of Orcs. One night Tyaro and I were seperated from our group, and were attacked by Wargs.' Here a small tear trailed down her cheek. 'We tried to fight them, but there were too many. Tyaro knew there was no hope of defeating them; he had already been mortally wounded, so he hid me in a rock clef- against my wishes- and drew them away. I can still hear his screams at night.'

Her voice trailed off as the tears streamed down her cheeks. 'I could not fight after that, so I sent the rest of our band away, back to Imladris.'

She gave a weak smile through her tears. 'Forgive me, sir. I should not be troubling you with this tale.'

[Seth Cotton]

Éothen sat speechless and baffled by her story. He wasn’t sure of what to say, if it would sound stupid, heartless or even mean? He decided to remain silent for another moment, maybe she would say something. She cried, not a sound, but he saw the tears roll and he felt a bit uncomfortable with the situation and he looked down in the table.

‘I am s-sorry...’ He started, thinking it must sound really stupid. His way of saying it, his words of choice. The tone in his voice that sounded more like someone who has nothing better to say than that. He felt guilt and rubbed his head a little innocent.

‘I am really sorry to hear about your dear friend, my Lady...’ He continued and sounded more comfortable as the tensed situation began to ease and he felt more confident. She had almost stopped crying, yet she was still sad, no doubt of it. ‘Still it seems to me you are afraid of something?’

Maybe it was stupid of him to ask further more about it. Perhaps it would just make it worse, he would probably just bring up more darkness and sorrow. Even though it wasn’t his intention it seemed inevitable to him. He knew how it was to lose a friend, he had lost many. He thought of her as a brave person to actually talk about it; talk about the sorrow she felt. That was a braver thing than fighting a hundred orcs.

Éothen, for one, would never speak of such things. They were still strangers to each other but she must have built up a lot of confidence for Éothen which made him feel a little bit better and he even smiled, but stopped abruptly as he realised how dumb he must look. He sighed deeply; not even the sun outside helped. The shadow was lying over them as a covering of sorrow. No sun would take it away.

‘Maybe we should speak of something else...’ Éothen said a bit melancholy. He glanced at her and then made a quick glance outside at the fine weather. ‘Would you join me for a walk in the garden instead? Maybe it will make things better?’

As the young man reached the stables of the Green Dragon Inn, he smelled the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchen. He was not tall by human standards, but he was finely built in musle and had a firm jaw. His black traveling cloak covered a leather breastplate with a horse embroidered upon it, common to the Riders of the Rohirrm. A shortsword was strapped to his side, as well as a long dirk. On his back he wore a quiver and shortbow, and his leather greaves were stained with mud. The famed inn was bustling as he walked in, people moved about waking and shaking sleep from their eyes. He moved carefully, ducking passing serving maids and dodging groggy adventurers.

"Sir, would you like a room?" a man asked.

"Yes, but I do not know how long I will be staying."

"Alright, may I ask your name?"

"My name is Palin, Palin Viccus. And m'am," Palin asked as the woman turned to leave, "may I get some food as well?"

"Certainly," the innkeeper said as she shuffled off to check on other guests. So, this is where I will start my adventures he thought. He was passed a plate of bacon, bread and a cool ale. He downed the meal in moments and pulled the cowl of his black cloak over his eyes, and slowly he drifted off to sleep.

[Dragon Elf odin Ragnorock]

It was a bright and sunny morning when a man in a dark cloak rode up to the green dragon inn.When he gets there he ties his horse up and walks in the bar. Then he askes the bartender if he could get a cold ale, some food, and a room because he had been riding all night and wanted to get some rest. Then he told the bartender to bring the food and drink to the back table in the corner. while he was waiting he pulled out his pipe and sat down in the chair dowsing off every once in a while. why didn' I stop at the last inn I came to he thought to himself.

"Here is your food" said the waitress

"Thanks" said the man

"is my room ready" asked the man

"I dont know" said the waitress "let me ask the barkeep"

"ok"

Then he ate his meal and had two more drinks. Then derifted off to sleep in his chair, but was suddenly sturred by the sound of darts on a dart board.

"Can I join your game?" asked the man

"sure"said one of the players"but what is your name?"

"it is Menecar"