The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Dunwen]

Widow Rosebank had scarcely had time to tuck into her tasty breakfast when a hobbit woman at the next table asked if she would like to join her. The widow wasn't surprised. Hobbits were generally gregarious, and never more so than at mealtimes. This hobbit looked like she might be a bit younger than the widow, and had an open, friendly air about her. She looked like she would be good company, and perhaps might be willing to talk about the Shire.

Unfortunately, the widow had just taken a large bite of egg and was unable to respond immediately. By the time she chewed and swallowed, her neighbor was speaking to one of the servers. The Bree-woman continued to eat as the little hobbit invited a somber-looking Elf to join her. She would have liked to go over then, just to get a closer look at him. She had dealt with Men of all sorts, and Hobbits and Dwarves often enough, but Elves traveling on the Great Road tended to go around the thickly populated Bree-land. She had once spoken briefly to an Elf she had met by chance a few years ago while walking through her daughter and son-in-law's fields, but that was the only contact she had had with the Fair Folk. However, he and the hobbit woman appeared to be having a private conversation, speaking quietly with their heads together.

As the Elf got up from the hobbit's table, Widow Rosebank thought she'd better get over there before the sociable stranger had to leave. She got up and slung her saddlebags over her shoulder. Picking up her mug and plate, she walked over and greeted the hobbit woman.

"Thank you kindly for asking me to join you. I do apologize for not answering you right away. I only travelled from Frogmorton this morning, but the fresh air does give you an appetite. If you don't have to leave right away, I could do with some company, not having been to the Shire before." Carefully setting her food and drink down, she shrugged the saddlebags off her shoulder and set them on the floor. "How d'you do," she said politely, once she had a hand free to offer the stranger. "I'm Ebba Rosebank, pleased to meet you."

The two shook hands. "I'm Miz Bella," replied the hobbit. "Pleased to meet you, too. Tell me how it is a Breelander finds her way to the Shire."

Ebba considered her answer for a moment. "Well, I do business with some of the farmers here who have sheep. I have a nice little store in Bree -- Rosebank's Drygoods and Notions," she said proudly, "and I sell wool for yarns and stitchery as well as cloth of all sorts, and a few things from Dale and the South, too. While I'm all for selling Bree-goods as much as I can, the wool from the Shire is as nice as I've seen, and there are more sheep here -- there would be, of course, the Shire is bigger than the Bree-lands -- and more wool. So I've dealt with some of your farmers for years through traders and such. Seeing as how my girls are old enough to mind the store for me, and as how I've never been out of the Bree-lands before, I thought I'd come myself this year. I've had customers traveling from the Shire for years talking about this tree of Mayor Gamgee's up at Bag End, and I've always wanted to see it. All gold it's supposed to be."

She stopped to take a sip of hot tea. "And then they're talking all the way to Bree about this fair you've got coming up, and I don't mind telling you that I'm mighty interested in that." She nodded significantly to Miz Bella. "I have a little business proposition for whoever is running it."

"Here now, I've run on about myself long enough. Are from you Bywater yourself?" Ebba settled back in her chair to give Miz Bella her turn to talk.

[Nurumaiel]

Marigold opened her mouth to say something, but caught herself just in time. Perhaps the threatening widening of Falco Headstrong's eyes helped her to remember. But, for goodness' sake, if his head hurt so much, why didn't he go back to his room? He said he didn't want breakfast, so there was really no reason to stay in the Common Room. Unless he liked the talking of all the people, which he couldn't, because it would make his headache worse. Why didn't he go? She liked his company when he was good company, but he was just a trial now. Sitting there, moaning, groaning, keeping her from speaking...

She turned discontented eyes away from him and they fell on an Elf that seemed to be looking at her. Immediately she blushed and dropped her eyes. Was that Elf looking at her? She had never expected that an Elf would notice her. She didn't seem interesting enough for an Elf, and aside from that she was so small that she was easily overlooked. What if the Elf was looking at her? What if the Elf tried to talk to her? How does one talk to an Elf? Would one try to speak very intelligently and very mysteriously?

She glanced up again quickly, and recognised the Elf as young Neviel. He had been at school. She smiled in great relief. It wouldn't be so bad to talk to Neviel. She wouldn't have to try to be Elvish.

He had caught her smile and had begun moving towards her. She recalled that Falco Headstrong was sitting at the table, and deciding it would be better to hold conversation away from him, she sprang up and hurried over to Neviel.

"Hello, Mr. Neviel," she said, slightly shy. "I'm so glad you came over. I've been wanting to talk all morning but Mr. Headstrong has a headache."

[Child of the 7th Age]

Mis Bella listened quietly as Widow Rosebank explained how and why she'd come to the Shire and about her business back in Bree. When the Widow had come to the end of her explanation, Miz Bella threw back her head and laughed, "I'm definitely not the one to see about transactions at the Faire. I am a newcomer myself to these parts and a teacher of young children. Business dealings were always beyond me. Maybe that's because I am a Took, born and raised outside these lands, one of the very few hobbits whose father went roaming far from the Shire. You see, father was never much for practical things either," added Miz Bella with a sigh.

"But that's enough about me. I do admire gumption in a hobbit, and you seem to have plenty of it. I know there are folk here who could help you. Cook, now, knows everyone in these parts and can put you in touch with someone with a good business head on their shoulders."

"But there is one thing you said that I am definitely interested in," Mix Bella stared fixedly at the Widow. "I love good yarns and such. You wouldn't happen to have any of those finished yarns for stitchery along with you? I'm looking to buy some for the little ones who come to my class. They'll be working on the props for one of the plays that's to be put on at the Faire. A bit of brightly colored yarn would do well both for decoration and even for sewing some of the puppet costumes and such."

"If you've got such along with you, I'd be mighty obliged to have a look...."

[Dunwen]

Ebba smiled broadly when Miz Bella asked her about her yarns. She had an entire saddlebag full of those of her wares which could easily be packed and carried, including skeins of yarn and spools of cotton thread. One of her great pleasures was creating designs on cloth with jewel-colored threads, yarns, and when she could get them, beads. For that purely selfish reason, she always had a supply of good quality yarns, cloth and thread at hand.

When she had been left a young widow with two small daughters, she had turned to peddling as a way to provide for them all. Her hard work had paid off and she now owned a respectable business in Bree, patronized by Big Folk and Little Folk alike. Like most of the other Big Folk in Bree, Ebba had grown up with hobbits and was familiar with their preferences, so she thought Miz Bella might find something she liked.

Now she opened a saddlebag and pulled out skein after skein of yarn: rich blue, golden yellow, buttercup, moss green and emerald, red, orange, violet and cream. A rainbow appeared to have settled on the table in front of Miz Bella, who exclaimed in delight.

Most of the yarns were ordinary knitting yarns, but there were some that were thinner for fine work, and some that had an odd loosely-twisted appearance. There were even spools of cotton thread suitable for embroidery in the colorful mass, as brightly colored as the woolen yarns.

"There we are," Ebba said. "Take your pick!"

[Saelind]

Neviel listened intently to Marigold's description of Falco Headstrong. The young Elf thought a moment and then he spoke. "Don't feel bad, Marigold....about Mr. Headstrong, I mean. Whenever big people have problems they don't want to talk about, the just tell everyone they have a headache. My father is the same way. When he is feeling blue and missing mother, he just says he has a headache. Elves aren't even supposed to get headaches, but he still says it anyway! If Mr. Heastrong told you that, it probably means he wants to be alone to think through something."

"Look over there," said Neviel excitedly, pulling determinedly on Marigold's sleeve. "Look and see what Miz Bella is doing." Their teacher was seated in front of a large display of yarn and threads and was picking them up one at a time. It looked as if every colour in the world had been splashed across the table. Some of the yarns were bright reds and yellows and green, simple colors that hobbits love. Others were soft, muted shades of blue and grey that reminded Neviel of the Sea. He thought that his father would especially like those. Still others seemed to glitter with silver and gold. Intrigued by the sight of so many colors, Neviel snatched again at Marigold's sleeve and began guiding her over to the table where Miz Bella was seated.

[brim]

Newalme led Brim by the hand into the crowded inn. He Carefully avoided the occupants and sat down in a realatively empty corner. He smiled as his friend's empty pool like eyes met his. It was almost like she could actually see his sandy blonde hair.

Brim took her seat gingerly. She had gotten quite used to her seat being pulled from under her by now. Brim's muscles ached from the long Journey she had taken a break from. As she felt for her book ,with various bumps and spaces instead of words, she brushed against the handle of one of her infamous thowing knives.

Newalme had always wondered how I could hit my target. brim thought to herself smiling. It was simple really her hearing and judgment was better so all she would have to do is wait for her enemy to advance on her. She sighed and pulled out the book begining to read.