The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Primrose Bolger]

Buttercup’s eyes widened at the mention of the Iron Hills. ‘Why those hills be by The Lonely Mountain, don’t they?’ she asked, clapping her hands in delight. ‘Our own Mister Bilbo Baggins traveled there with some Dwarves and old Gandalf. My Gammer told me the story of that when I was younger.’

‘Oh, but here I stand talking on when you’re wanting a room.’ She looked him up and down, noting the state of his clothes. ‘And what about something to eat, too? And drink? You can walk into town then and visit the shops.’ She blushed a little, thinking she might have been too forward. ‘That is I couldn’t help but notice your clothes. Must have been a long hard trip from those hills of yours.’ She eyed him once again. You’re only a bit bigger than our grown Hobbit men, I’m sure the tailor could make some things for you.’

‘But here I am going on again! Let me get you some breakfast. You can eat while I make up your room for you.’ She smiled widely at him, waiting. ‘Now what would you like to have, Master Frór?’

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

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Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Meriadoc - Stablemaster

Tim Woodlock - Stableboy; Wren - his younger sister: humans, originally from Breeland (characters played by Folwren)

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

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Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

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About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

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EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

Time of Day

It's nearing noon in the Shire.

Second breakfast is being served. Lunch is being cooked.

The weather is pleasant - sunny with a clear sky.

[Witch_Queen]

Cariâthwen looked at the man with what might be seen as deep regret. "I am Cariâthwen of what is left of Lothlorien. I mean not to pry into your business. 'Tis your business and as curious as I may seem I don't want to know any part of your business." Her words didn't come out as smooth as she wanted them. But she had to do her best to keep herself calm cause she wished not for anyone to pry into her business.

"Well I have told you my name but you have yet to tell me yours." Cariâthwen had told the strange man only part of who she was. She didn't need to let anyone know of her escape from her home. The secret of who her grandmother was would have to remain a secret until she could trust the company she was in. It would be weird for anyone to hear that I, Cariâthwen, am the granddaughter of Galadriel. My secrets are my own and this is my own business that I must tend to.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Seleven leant back in his chair and drunk a little port. He took a pipe from his pack and placed its mouthpiece towards the table. He did not light it, but merely held it, as if it held memories of its own. The grey eyes and fair face told him immediately that this was an Elf, and one of high order.

He coughed and cleared his throat, "I am Seleven," he said, "Son of Daynú of Gondor." when no reaction came across Cariâthwen's face, he knew she did not know him of his father, that, in his mind, was a good thing. Many years lay heavily on him, added to them were the years his fathers treachery had laid upon him. Blood was on his hands, kindred blood. But now, here in the unspoken north west of Middle Earth, he was speaking with one who regarded him with spite, not at all.

"My business is nothing terribly private," he said at last, "and I do tend to create the curiosity in those around me. Pray, forget I said such harsh words." he raised his glass as a sigh of a toast.

Looking into the eyes of Cariâthwen, Seleven saw some wisdom that perhaps could help him. He fished out the paper once again from his pack and showed it to her. It was very high quality paper, found only in Gondor and especially Minas Tirith. It was paper designed for historical records and not for ideal letters between friends or foes. "Can you read this?" he asked as he held it up.

Cariâthwen looked and saw that the letters were a mixture of different elvish scripts, as well as some Gondorian and even Dwarvish runes. The End was signed in the plain common tong, 'May you bitterly lie in wait, Smilog.' Seleven watched as Cariâthwen nodded with a look of puzzlement upon her face.

"Worry not," he said, "many of these have I received recently. But it is good to know others are widely learned in other tongs beside their own." Cariâthwen seemed troubled, so Seleven leant forth and spoke softly, "Now, my good Elf, what troubles ye? I see a grief in thine eyes that I have not seen for many years. Perhaps I can lend some aid?"

[piosenniel]

‘Begging your pardon, Miz Rosebank,’ said Cook, her gaze fixed on Ginger. Vinca’s brow was furrowed, and she had half a mind to remind Ginger whose kitchen it was and who decided who did which jobs. But the lass seemed frantic to tell her something. Though what could be so important that one would treat a guest of the Inn as one of the staff was something she could not fathom at the moment.

Her glance drifted to Buttercup, whose eyes went wide and shoulders shrugged at the implied question. ‘So it’s not something Ginger has told the other two.’ She could see Ruby offering to help the woman put on the apron.

‘I’ll just settle up this matter with Ginger and be back to speak with you.’ She looked at the woman’s hands. They seemed to have known their share of work. ‘If you don’t mind helping with the washing up, we’d be glad to accept your offer. And then perhaps when the serving up is done and the leftovers stored in the pantry, we can sit down and have a talk about the Faire.’ She was curious to know what the woman from Bree would bring to the event.

‘Come along, then, Ginger. We’ll just go down to the root cellar and get us out a basket of taters for supper. She suppressed a smile as Buttercup groaned quietly behind her. Peeling taters was not one of her favorite tasks.

~*~

As they scooped up taters in the dim light cast down the stairs from the cellar door, Cook questioned Ginger about ‘the message’. The words poured out of Ginger all higgledy-piggledy and Cook had to stop her several times to sort out the main concern. In the end, she had put it together about Miz Rosebank and Bree and Tim and Wren. And Wren’s fears, too.

‘Well, of course we won’t let anyone snatch them away from us,’ Cook said, in an attempt to allay Ginger’s worries. ‘But I’ll need to sort this out with Miz Rosebank. If they’ve got any family, it might be a different story.’

The two of them managed the heavy basket up the stairs, and set it down by the back yard pump. Ginger was instructed to wash the taters and scrub them thoroughly with the stiff brush left hanging on the pump post.

Cook sluiced the dirt from her hands in the cold water and wiped them dry on her apron. Leaving Ginger to her task, she returned to the kitchen, thinking how best she might ferret out the information she needed.

[Dunwen]

While she was thankful not to have been shooed out of the kitchen immediately, Widow Rosebank was surprised when Ginger made such a to-do about welcoming her help, instead of waiting for the Cook to give permission. Such doings in a hobbit kitchen were rare as hen's teeth! She herself didn't make a move until the Cook accepted her offer to help with the washing up.

"I'd be happy to help," she replied with a smile. As the Cook left with Ginger -- the girl obviously wanted to talk about her with Miz Bunce, probably worried that she might complain about their small collision upstairs -- she took the apron offered by one of the hobbits. The widow tied on the bright yellow apron, pleased to see that it was human sized. Then she moved to the dish-laden wash tub. Adding more hot water from the kettle, she picked up a dishcloth and slung a towel over her shoulder. Luckily, she was short for a human, scarcely over five feet tall, so felt fairly comfortable moving about a hobbit-sized kitchen. After carefully clearing a space near the washtub for clean dishes, Widow Rosebank got to work.

As she washed and dried, she introduced herself properly to the other two hobbits, and found out their names were Buttercup and Ruby. Both hobbit-lasses chattered excitedly about the party to be held that evening as they went in and out of the kitchen, but did manage to ask a couple of polite questions about the widow's presence in the Shire. They both pricked up their ears upon learning that she was a drygoods merchant. In turn the widow learned a bit more about the Green Dragon and Bywater. She worked steadily and soon had a neat pile of spotlessly clean dry dishes ready to be used again. As she added more hot water to the dish tub and began washing another batch of dishes, Widow Rosebank waited for the Cook to return and rehearsed what she wanted to say.

[Tevildo]

Tevildo balanced precariously on the window ledge and arched his back so that his muddy white fur fluffed upright, making him look like a dirty snowball. Extended first one paw and then the other, he leapt gracefully down to the floor. He was still quite sleepy. He had spent most of the night caterwauling and prowling with other cats in the vicinity of Bag-end, searching for mice in the tool shed. The band of cats had made such a loud racket that Master Gamgee had finally emerged with hoe in hand threatending the noisey trespassers with extinction. Deep inside the burrow, Tevildo had heard the sound of a little one crying.

Not wishing to take on the authority of the mayor, the cat had taken off across the fields on a tear, returning to the safety of the Dragon, where he had slept most of the morning. Now he slunk along the wall that led towards the kitchen. As the door opened and one of the serving maids rushed through with a tray full of goodies, Tevildo slipped under the lass's skirts and skittled inside. For the moment, everyone's back was turned. Tevildo spied two fat smoked chickens that had been hung on a hook not far from the wash basin, just opposite a shelf full of dishes.

Seeing an opportunity he did not want to forego, the cat sprang up to the shelf and carefully threaded his way between the plates and the cups. Reaching the very end of the shelf, he could smell the sweet odor of chicken beckoning him forward. His mouth began to water and he licked his whiskers, anticipating the feast that was sure to follow. Gathering his body, he hurled himself expertly into the air, expecting to land on the shelf where the enticing carcass was hanging. But something unexpected happened at that point. One of the inhabitants of the kitchen raced up, and seeing what the cat was about to do, extended a broom in his direction. Tevildo let out a screech of indignation as his front paws slipped off the far shelf and he went plunging into the dishpan, miserable and wet. The water splashed up as one of the teapots flew out of the pan and crashed against the counter, shattering in several pieces.

[Farael]

Farael walks into the Red Dragon Inn looking tired and fairly dirty, as if he had just been back from the wilderness as he is still carrying his bow and carcaj over his shoulder. Being aware that his appearance is not in the least appealing, he looks for the Innkeeper, asks for a room and disapears towards the back.

A few minutes later, Farael walks back into the common room after taking a bath and putting on some fresh clothes. He looks around for familiar faces, but even though the room is far from empty, he does not recognize any of the many faces. With a tired sigh, Farael leans against the wall and waits to see what kind of activities are happening today.

[Koobdooga]

Farael is invited to sit with a Dwarf

The savory scents of mutton stew and fresh baked bread that drifted from a nearby window lured Ibun from the porch. ‘I’m going in for some food,’ he said to his companion, Frór, as he got up from his chair. ‘Good food, by the smell of it, too!’ He cast an eye at Frór who was just refilling his pipe. ‘I’ll just go in and get us a table, if you wish.’

The common room had filled up with hungry diners. The Dwarf managed to secure a table near the wall and was just giving his order to a passing server when he noted a man standing against the wall. ‘Wonder if he’s looking for a place to sit down and eat,’ Ibun murmured to himself. He caught the serving girl’s attention just as she had turned from the table and called her back.

‘See that fellow over there?’ he asked, pointing toward the man. ‘The one leaning against the wall down there aways?’ She nodded her head ‘yes’. ‘Well, why don’t you invite him to sit down here? There’s an empty chair. Tell him Ibun Lodestone of Khazad-dum would be happy to stand him a mug of ale.’

Ibun watched as the girl went off toward the man. ‘He looks to be an interesting fellow,’ thought Ibun. ‘I’ll just bet he has some interesting stories to tell.’

[Huan]

‘Best you get up!’ called Rowan from the little hallway in the upper part of the Inn. She knocked loudly at her brother’s door then tried the handle. There he was, still curled up in bed, the quilts thrown over his head.

‘I know you can hear me, Tolly! It’s already nearing noon. Don’t you want to practice our little play before tonight?’ A few muffled imprecations issued from beneath the thick quilt, and Rowan ducked back quickly as an arm snaked quickly from beneath, pillow in hand.

‘Missed me!’ she cried hearing the pillow thump against the now closed door.

She took the scarlet ribbon from her vest pocket and tied back her chestnut curls as she walked to the landing. Once down the stairs, she looked about the Common Room, seeking the others of her troupe. No sign of Gwyn or Talan. And none of Emlin, either. ‘Probably all out and about already,’ she thought to herself.

Oh! But there by the fireplace, his back turned to her was that fellow she’d met just last night. The singer. Now what was his name? Rowan walked quietly toward where Gil sat hunched over his mug of ale. She drew up quietly behind him and cleared her throat to get his attention.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

For all that he was a small fellow, he could eat prodigious amounts of bacon and eggs. Even the other hobbits began to wonder at it as the tiny newcomer tucked away the last fragments of his second plate of second breakfast. With a contented sigh he sat back in his chair and took a long, final pull at the mug of ale that the barmaid had given him. With his eating done he took out a long stemmed pipe and began energetically puffing away upon it, until soon he was lost to sight in a large cloud of fragrant smoke. He emerged again sometime later as the cloud drifted away on the currents of the room, looking contented simply to sit and watch.

And there was much to see. So many strange and adventuresome folk moved about that he hardly knew what to say or where to step. He sought in earnest to catch the eye of the hobbits who moved about, but they seemed so used to the presence of the Big Folk, Elves, Dwarves and other sorts that they went about their business as though it were entirely usual and normal in the Shire to have such a gathering.

He saw the pretty barmaid come skipping past upon some errand and called out to her. She came over to him, asking if he wanted more ale. "Nay, lass, just someone to speak with for a bit. I have some questions as need answering."

She looked about, saying, "I'm afraid that we're very busy at the moment. There's been an injury to the stablemaster, and all these new people have arrived...but I suppose I can spare a moment. What would you like to know?"

"Well, first off, your name would be nice. I am Fordogrim Chubb, of the Gamwich Chubbs."

The girl shook his hand and said that her name was Ruby Brown. A brief conversation of a very hobbitish type followed as they quickly ran through their ancestry and found that they were fifth cousins, twice removed. Having established this they became more comfortable with one another immediately -- as one always does with family. "And what brings you to Bywater Mister Chubb?" she asked.

"Nay Nay, call me not 'Mister', lass. Any great-grandneice of my father's cousin's half-sister is going to call me Fordogrim or naught. But to answer the question, I am here to see if there's a market for my new ale. I'm a brewer you see -- but I'm sure you know that -- all the Chubbs in Gamwich are brewers! -- and I've done quite well for myself. Most of the Inns of the West Farthing serve my brew, and I'm looking to see if there's folk in these here parts who'd be willing to try some."

"Well, Fordogrim, I can assure you that the people hereabouts do enjoy their ale, but most of them are most particular about what they'll drink. It would have to be a mighty fine mug of beer to get most of them to change. Not that they will refuse to try it!"

Fordogrim grinned and leapt from his chair. Looking up at Ruby, who towered over him by at least a foot, he cried out, "Now that's the best news I've heard in a while! As it happens, they'll have a chance to try it and right soon, for I've arranged for a small sample of my ales to be sent to this very Inn later today. Why, I've walked through the night just to get here in time to meet them!"

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

Had it not been for his hunger, Frór might have reacted differently to the hobbits mentioning of the tailor, but he was tired, hungry and actualy he did need some new clothes.

with a sense of importans in his voice the dwarf replied Buttercup : A hard jurney it has been, from my home far over the Misty Mountains grim and cold.
Far away from Erebor it is not.

But first bring me a pork-pie and salat, with some ale.

When i have eaten we can talk of Mr. Baggins and the Iron Hills

For indeed Frór had heart the tales of Thorin and he's companions.

[Koobdooga]

Frór is greeted by a fellow Dwarf

Ibun Lodestone tucked the napkin Cook had delivered along with his tray into the collar of his tunic. His long beard was parted at the chin and done into two thick braids that hung down his chest. Now normally, he was not a messy eater, but he feared that the scrambled eggs and the thick sliced bread loaded with butter and jam might just decide to plant parts of themselves on the front of his shirt. And this tunic was his only clean one at the moment.

He paused for a moment, giving thanks to Mahal for the finding of this most excellent Inn. The smells from his plate made his mouth water in anticipation. Picking up his fork and knife, he tucked into the generously piled platter with gusto. Thick sliced ham and eggs as light as clouds soon found their way to his mouth.

As he chewed, he could not help but notice that nearby was one of the Hobbit serving girls speaking to another Dwarf he hadn’t noticed before. Ibun put down his utensils and wiping his mouth, he went over to where the other Dwarf sat.

‘Well met, Master Frór,’ he said, smiling at the dwarf. He had heard the server say his name as she left to fetch Frór’s food. ‘My name is Ibun. Ibun Lodestone. From Khazad-dum.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I was wondering,’ he went on, ‘if you’d like to join me at my table.’ He pointed to where he’d been sitting. ‘I’d like the company, if you don’t mind mine. What do you say?’

[Witch_Queen]

What Cariâthwen had read on the paper scared her out of what sign of life she might of had still in her face. Cariâthwen was lost in thought until she heard Seleven talking. "Now, my good Elf, what troubles ye? I see a grief in thine eyes that I have not seen for many years. Perhaps I can lend some aid?" With all color out of her face Cariâthwen turned to meet Seleven's gaze. She didn't know what to tell the man setting across from her. She didn't know whether to tell him the truth or dig deep into her imagination and come up with a far fetch story. The look she was receiving from Seleven told Cariâthwen that he wanted the truth.

"I am not use to being on my own. I always had my mother around me and up until my grandmother left I had her too. Everyone knows that the elves are leaving Middle Earth. My family is gone and I now have no one well except for my horse. Thorn would never abandon me like the others did." Cariâthwen didn't know what she was saying, there was no others, there was never any others. All her life she was alone and now she realized it even more.

"Normally I talk to Thorn about all the problems I face in this endless life yet Thorn could never answer."I feel hollow inside almost as if someone reached through my skin only to take out part of my heart and soul. I show no scars for the abomination that has hurt me is neither alive nor dead. After all how can one kill life when she only renews herself with the dawning of every new day.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Seleven placed the pipe in his mouth and still left it unlit, the words that came from Cariâthwen were filled with deep pain and some longing. Seleven felt he could sympathise, "being alone can oft' leave one scared," he said, "especially is one has been with company for so long. Believe me, I know the feeling well, and it haunts me even today." His eyes became filled with memory as he stared seemingly through the very walls of the Green Dragon.

He shook his head and smiled, "Ah, do not listen to me," he said, "I am a foolish old man. But this Thorn you speak of, that name sounds Dwarvish, is it not? I knew a dwarf of good measure once, a delightful fellow, but too many ideas beyond his years and height" he chuckled to himself at the memory, "He once thought he could build a raft from stone. Terribly silly idea, I thought, and I was right, but that didn't stop the little fellow from trying it anyway." He shook his head and saw that Cariâthwen was at least a little amused; she obviously knew the nature of Dwarves and how they can be.

[Arry]

Gil gives the intruder the cold shoulder

‘I told you I didn’t want to be bothered! No, I don’t want any eggs and ham to go along with my ale! Just leave me be . . .’

Gil hunched down closer over his mug. He was in the midst of some rather melancholic thoughts, having a ‘pity-party’ as his sister would say. He wasn’t used to things not going the way he’d planned. And especially when it involved a lass he’d had his eye on.

He twitched his shoulders in irritation, hoping whoever was behind him would take the hint and go away.

[Witch_Queen]

At the mention of dwarves Cariâthwen suddenly began to remember the time that she had snuck away from home to spend some time with a family of dwarves. One time her mother saw her sneeking out and followed her. To this day she still remembered her mothers words, "Cariâthwen! You know I don't like you sneeking out... And DWARVES!! Why can't you be like everyone else and go play with your cousin." But Cariâthwen knew she wasn't like her cousin, and she wasn't like her kind. Cariâthwen had a smile across her face. "You know Seleven, I actually got Thorn from a dwarf. He was the first dwarf I met. Even then he believed he could do anything. Quite rare in a dwarf, especially to become such a close friend of mine. But that was many years ago and despite all feelings that we are talking about the same dwarf we couldn't be.Plus I believe Koibur went into hiding some years ago."

Cariâthwen always felt safe around dwarves. Her mother never understood her like the short bearded people from the mountains did. Koibur was the only true friend besides Thorn that Cariâthwen ever had. She never talked about Koibu much for she knew not the company she was in. But she had a feeling that Seleven was going to be good company.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Seleven nodded and smiled, "Dwarves are strange folk," he said, "but no doubt the ways of men or elves are strange to them. My father hated them, he once said of Dwarves, 'they hide away, aiding the world not at all. If I had my way, they'd be cast to the sea.' old fool." Seleven stopped himself before he said something harsh. Although he had not liked his father, he still had to respect him, even if he was a tyrant.

"Seldome is it heard," he continued, "that in these days, Sindarin Elves make friendship with Dwarves. Unless they were Legolas of the woodland realm and Gimli, Gloin's son. But they are rare cases. Magnificent folk, really, a little crazy about Gold, but they have good hearts deep down."

An old Hobbit dashed behind Cariâthwen, he was shouting and making a noise about something to a friend of his across the room. Seleven smiled and placed the pipe in his mouth once again, looking towards Cariâthwen with a sense of familiarity. The Green Dragon had gained a reputation of being a place where you can meet unusual folk, a reputation the Hobbits were not at all happy with, but the Inn enjoyed the extra business.

"I say," said Seleven as he leant forwards, "you're an elf of Lorien, perhaps you know, or heard tell of the Haradrim leader Smilog. I see from your face that you have not, perhaps that is good." He fished in his pack for another piece of paper, he drew it and read aloud.

"From the Lord high King of all in South Gondor to the self proclaimed watchman of the tower upon Anruin, Greetings.

"I Smilog, Lord and master of all Lands south of your post declare that you are trespassing on land that belongs solely to Sauron and to me. I give you till noon upon the fourth day since midyear to leave your post and return to Minas Tirith. Else we shall take your hold by force.

"May your fear by unbound,
"Smilog, King and Emperor."

Seleven shook his head and placed the paper back in his pack, "A sad tale really," he explained, "Smilog was once called Túlan, and was a good friend of mine, before the War of the Ring when he joined the haradrim. He thinks himself mighty and calls himself Lord of lands he hath not conquered. His strength was not in arms, but in fear he struck to hearts. He had, it was said, met a Nazgul, and was therefore untouchable by fear of death." Seleven snorted, "That was later proven false. Ah, but look at me, rambling on like an old tale weaver. Do tell me some of your history, I do love tales and adventures told in tales." he leant back with his pipe in his mouth and a glass of port in the left hand.

[Koobdooga]

Ibun chuckled at the girl’s words. “Having a chin-wag” was what his grandmother called it when his grandpa and his friends would sit about and talk and drink. ‘No offense taken, Miss Woolcomb!’ Grinning, he looked toward Frór. ‘We’re certainly guilty of what you’ve described. And if we brought good thoughts to mind of your family, then all the better!’

His pipe had gone out, and he tapped it on the railing of the porch, letting the ashes fall into the flowerbed below. ‘Well, best you get on about your business and not let us hold you up. Perhaps we’ll see you at the party this evening. We’ll stand you to a cup of cider or of ale.’ He smiled and nodded at her. ‘Oh, here I go forgetting my manners. I’m Ibun Lodestone come from the Misty Mountains as you call them here, I think. And this is my friend, Frór, from the Iron Hills.’

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger took the little blue dress from Wren and looked at it with a practiced eye. There was a tear where the lace about the collar had come loose, and a small jagged rip near the back hem where it had probably been caught on something and yanked loose hurriedly. Neither of which problems could not easily be fixed, she told Wren. They’d also need to heat the irons and give it a good pressing to smooth away the wrinkles.

The girl took back the dress and holding it against herself was dancing about the room. It was then that Ginger noticed the state of her shoes. Now, were she a Hobbit girl, there would not need to be any consideration for this part of the dressing up. But the Big Folk liked to have something on their feet at all times . . . except in bed, she supposed, but then she had not the opportunity to have checked on that bit of information. And oh yes, the girl would need some tights of some sort; that seemed the Big Folk standard for wearing a pretty dress and nice shoes.

‘See that wardrobe over there,’ she said, drawing Wren’s attention to a tall sort of cupboard that stood in the corner. ‘That’s where we keep shoes and boots and such that the Big Folk have left behind. Why don’t you see if you can find a pair of party shoes to go with your dress?’

She watched as the girl climbed on a stool and opened the tall doors. ‘I think I’ve got a ribbon that will just match this blue color, down in my room. Open those drawers there at the bottom and see if there’s a pair of tights that can go along with everything. Or do you have a pair in your pack?’

Ginger started toward the door. ‘Come down to the kitchen when you’ve found what you need. I’ll just mend the dress real quick and get it pressed. After we serve lunch and clean up, then I’ll help you polish up the shoes you’ve found.’ She nodded at Rose, motioning for her to continue the search. Then down the stairs she went to ask Cook for the loan of her sewing basket.

[piosenniel]

The bright coin tumbled end over end in the air, catching the light as it arced upward, winking at Buttercup as she watched it descend and fall easily into Ruby’s ready hand. ‘I did pour the ale for those two,’ she said, her eye on Ruby’s closed fist as she walked back to the bar where Buttercup stood.

Ruby laughed at her friend, standing there hands on hips, and expectant look on her face. ‘Aww! You know I’ll share with you, dear heart! But isn’t it nice to have a bit of silver of my own in my fist!’ She gave the coin to Buttercup who turned it over to have a look at both sides.

‘Must be one of those new ones the High King’s put out,’ Buttercup said, looking closely at the side view of some man’s face on the one side and a tree with stars on the other. ‘Pretty, it is.’ She hefted the coin in her hand, feeling the slight weight of it. ‘Wonder how many silver Shire pennies it’s worth?’

The needs of the customers in the inn were at a lull for the moment. The two Hobbits leaned their elbows on the bar top and surveyed the room. ‘Think he’s some sort of noble fellow,’ Ruby asked, nodding slightly at the man all in black. ‘Dunno,’ said Buttercup, giving him a critical look. ‘Could well be. Looks more than those errand-riders we get in here once in a while. You suppose he knows the King?’

Several moments passed as they eyed Belegund. ‘And what about that other fellow? Did you catch his name,’ asked Buttercup.

‘It’s Eo- something or other. I couldn’t quite hear it all. One of those Rohan names, like Miz Aman’s friends, I’m sure.’ Ruby grinned at Buttercup as she continued. ‘That Belegund, now he seems seems smooth as silk in his manners, doesn’t he. But look at the Rohan fellow, he’s a bit twitchy, don’t you think?’

Further consideration of the two Big Folk gentlemen was forestalled as Cook called firmly from the kitchen door that it was time to get lunch ready to serve . . .

[Lilly]

Lilly and her Aunt help out

‘Can Auntie and I lend you a hand,’ Lilly asked, watching Cook bustle about the kitchen. Ruby and Buttercup had come in from the Common Room and were now going about the tasks Cook had assigned them.

Lilly washed up her hands and plucked an apron from the pegs by the door. ‘I noticed you had a batch of cookie dough setting here on the counter in that big blue bowl.’ She picked up the bowl and brought it over to the table. ‘Auntie Violet and I can spoon these out onto the cookie pans if you’ll just show me where they are.’

Buttercup pointed to the bottom cupboard where the pans were stacked and Ruby fetched them each a couple of spoons. ‘They’re spice drops,’ she told them, as Lilly tied an apron on her aunt. ‘Make them about walnut size and roll them in this pan of chopped nuts and sugar.’ She was about to give further instruction when Lilly smiled and said she thought Aunt Violet and she could figure out what needed to be done. Buttercup came over and led Ruby away. ‘Thanks for the help. And don’t mind her,’ she said, nodding at Ruby. ‘Sometimes she gets carried away with her instructions.’

Lilly put the bowl of dough and the bowl of sugary nut bits near her aunt. She gave them each a pan to fill and started spooning the balls of dough into the nut mixture and then onto the pan.

[Rose]

‘Pleased to meet you. The both of you,’ Rose said, a smile of relief on her face. Her apology, it seemed, had been accepted. ‘I’d be more than happy to share a mug of cider with you this evening. A party you say? Oh, that should be fun!’

A few moments of conversation passed in which Ibun explained what had gone on earlier in the Inn’s front yard – the ale from a Master Fordogrim, the accident, the contest, and the group of players who said they were going to entertain.

Rose excused herself once he'd finished talking, saying she had some business to conduct within. ‘I’ll see you both later, then,’ she said, giving the two a smile and a wave of her hand as she entered the Inn.

[Noinkling]

Notch views the room

The small brown, notch-eared mouse poked his head out from the hole. The Green Dragon seemed busier, noisier than on previous days. The great oaken door banged open and another two-legged entered the Inn. Another of the littler ones, the barefooted ones that lived around here. At least in comparison to some of the others who now sat at the tables, the female in the reddish cloak was one of the smaller people. But she looked a giant to Notch as he stared at her with his glittering black eyes.

Two men were sitting together now at one of the tables, sharing ale he thought and a basket of fresh bread (he could tell by the smell of it even from a distance) and that good, sharp cheese the cook kept locked away in her pantry. He watched them carefully looking for any crumbs that might fall to the floor as they talked and waved their hands about for emphasis.

One of the men, the darker one, had flipped something shiny and small into the air to the girl that worked here. It was pretty as it tumbled in the light. He knew where the girl’s bedroom was and pondered how he might snatch the glittery thing for his own nest.

News from the kitchen traveled on the air each time one of the busy servers went in or out. Notch twitched his whiskers as he took in the savory aromas of lunch. Stew with rich gravy and chunks of vegetables and meats. Warm bread, cheeses, and what was that tantalizing smell that drifted out just now. Sweet and spicy! He nearly fainted from anticipation. Spice and nut cookies, to be sure.

Notched pushed himself back into his little burrow at the base of the common room’s hearth and rooted about in his little larder. An apple core, still fairly fresh, caught his attention. Holding it between his paws he began to nibble on it in earnest. His tiny belly was making its demands known with its grumblings, and he thought perhaps a bit of apple as a snack would tide him over til he could make the rounds of the room later, unseen and unhindered.

[Dunwen]

In the common room, Widow Rosebank noticed a lull in the lunchtime orders. Taking her chance, she slipped carefully through the door leading to the kitchen. That room was typically busy, even during a slow time. Three hobbit-women were busily engaged in several tasks all at once: boiling water for the inevitable washing up after lunch, taking new orders out, ladling the savoury-smelling mutton stew into bowls, slicing cheese, putting warm golden rolls onto small plates, bringing serving trays of dirty dishes in from the common room and piling them into a large dishpan. The center of all this activity was an older, sharp-eyed hobbit woman who clearly was in charge. Even if one of the servers had not addressed her as ‘Miz Bunce’, the Widow would have known who she was.

The Bree-woman had a few seconds to observe that Vinca Bunce was a capable, no-nonsense hobbit who ran her kitchen with firm hand. The older hobbit was taking some spice-scented cookies off a sheet while directing her young assistants with the aplomb of a general. Widow Rosebank paused for a moment, but told herself to get on with it.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke clearly enough to be heard over the clatter of crockery and the conversations between the hobbits. “Good day, everyone.” A startled silence fell as the hobbits looked at this newcomer. Widow Rosebank nodded towards Vinca and continued, "Forgive me for intruding during lunch, but I've traveled a ways and have a question for Miz Bunce about this Faire you've got coming up. It might take a bit of time to explain, but I'd be happy to help out while I talk, if you'll hear me out." She gestured to a pile of dirty dishes waiting by a wash tub. "Perhaps I could wash those for you."

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger’s head snapped about at the sound of Miz Rosebank’s voice. With all the commotion about the party and the search for a suitable dress for Wren, the previous news about the widow from Bree knowing Wren and her brother had been stuffed away in some far nook of Ginger’s mind. With dawning horror, she remembered Wren talking about her fears – now that someone from Bree had found them out, would her brother and she have to go back?

‘You puddin’-head!’ she admonished herself. ‘What if she just wants to spy on Wren and Tim? The Big Folk do have some strange ways. What if she’s going to try and make them go back to Bree? What if . . .’ Being a youngish Hobbit, Ginger’s thoughts at times bordered on the wildly melodramatic. ‘Best you tell Cook what you know about this Miz Rosebank.’

Before Cook could respond to the woman, Ginger grabbed up a fresh dishwashing cloth and stepped up quickly to Miz Rosebank. ‘Oh, my gracious,’ she bubbled with all the enthusiasm she could muster. ‘That would be a great help to us!' Ginger looked at Ruby and Buttercup both of whom had raised their brows slightly at her, but quickly nodded their heads ‘yes’. ‘If you really don’t mind, that is. You see . . . there’s a party this evening, and the sooner we get all the chores done about here, the sooner we can get ready for it.’ She gave her most ingratiating smile to both the woman and then to Cook. ‘Many hands make light work. And quick work, too, or so my Gran says. And you and Miz Bunce will have more time to talk about the Faire, too. You did say it would take some explaining.’

Ruby and Buttercup had come up by then with a clean apron and a towel to tuck in the ties. They offered them to Miz Rosebank, both of them casting glances at Ginger and then at Cook.

Ginger left the other two Hobbits to get the woman started and turned a pleading face to Cook. ‘I just remembered Miz Bunce. There was a very important bit of information I was supposed to tell you. Some private business I was to let you know. Could we just step away for a moment?’