The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Koobdooga]

‘No harsh words here, Master Fordogrim,’ said Ibun. ‘Seeing as how you’re so generous with your fine brew . . .’ He raised the mug that had been thrust upon him and took a long pull on the fresh and foaming beer. With an economy of motion he sucked the skiff of foam that rimed the edges of his mustache into his waiting mouth. ‘Yes . . . very fine brew, a right treasure! So much so, that I am carried away by its essence.’

A rumble began deep in his chest, and what sounded at first to be a hive of angry bees droning grew into a song:

So my friends, Mahal be with you,
And watch o’er you until
We can a' meet here together,
And our mugs we then refill.
We'll drink a health t’ absent friends
And make the beer and whisky flow,

So button up and aye be cheery
Take a dram afore ye go.
Button up and aye be cheery,
Drink a pint afore ye go.

He raised his mug again, and finding it empty looked round for another. Ibun chuckled as he grasped the handle of a full one a friendly hand had passed him. ‘The sort of treasure in fact that need be shared and not horded. I’ll drink my fill of your good beer, if you will; my belly will be all the cask I’ll need. Let one of the others take the barreled prize.’

Ibun nodded toward Robin and Rowan, and stepped back beside Frór. ‘If they argue long over this,’ he said in a low voice to his friend, ‘we Dwarves will have drunk the casks dry anyway. ‘Twill all be moot!’ He cast an interested eye back on the proceedings and accepted another refill.

[Celuien]

"What a pretty pickle you've gotten yourself into now, Robin Sandheaver!" the hobbit thought to himself. "You should've listened to your old Gaffer warning you against contests and such nonsense."

Aloud, Robin said, "No harsh words here either, Master Fordogrim. 'Twas quite a confusion in all the rush to help. And what else could be expected, seeing as how your beer is most excellent. I can't say as I rightly know who stacked the most mugs myself. But should I be chosen the winner..." Robin paused. He wanted the cask. But most of the hobbits in the room were his friends, and he didn't want to anger them either. He cleared his throat. "Should I be chosen the winner," he started again, "I'll share the cask with everyone here. They all had a helping hand in the business too."

Mourning the loss of a full cask of beer to himself, Robin withdrew and stepped inside the Inn to order a plate of warm rolls and honey. Stacking the mugs had been quite a job, and he was hungry.

[Folwren]

Wren looked down at the cold cider that Ginger had served her, shrugging one shoulder up as she prepared to make her answer. The hobbit’s guesses had been almost right all the way. “I wanted to tell Tim that that Mrs. Rosebank was here from Bree and had worked for that fellow-” she didn’t know their old landlord’s name nor what to call him- “because I don’t want to have to go back there, and I thought that she would want us to, even if she did say that we wouldn’t have to. But Tim didn’t listen to me and when I tried to get his attention. . .” her eyes wandered the kitchen briefly. “When I tried to pull him away, see - he was out helping with the drinks of some sort, and he didn’t want to stop, and when I wanted to tell him, he didn’t want to listen, so he pulled away and we fell over into the table and everything fell down and it all got ruined.”

She looked up at Ginger. “Will we have to go away now that we’ve done that and have been bad?” she asked in a small voice. “We didn’t mean to knock it over and make that mess. It was an accident, honest!”

[Huan]

From where she stood, Rowan could see her two friends, Talan and her twin, Gwyn, looking on from the edge of the crowd. Gwyn’s eyes were narrowed as he surveyed the still muttering group. The Hobbits who were not up for consideration for the cask were standing about in small groups, their glances resting on the three champions. Mugs of beer fueled their curiosity and the range of their opinion. Rowan saw Gwyn give her a quick shake of his head.

From behind her she could hear the voices of Gil and his mates egging her on to graciously accept the cask. Their thoughts were bent on a day off work and day of drinking and making music. She glanced up quickly again to where Gwynn stood, his brow cocked at her expectantly.

These fine folk . . . the mutterers . . . she could almost hear him say they will be our bread and butter tonight for our little show. Best we keep them on our good side, Rowan Foxburr . . . and the assurance of their pennies in our pockets.

‘Ah, my dear sweet darlin’ Gil,’ she said turning quickly as she made up her mind what to do. Much to his surprise, she planted a kiss on his one cheek, and a pat of her hand on the other. ‘Twould be best, I’m thinking,’ Rowan said, turning from Gil toward Fordogrim, ‘if we were to share the bounty of this cask with all our friends here . . .’ ‘Later, that is,’ she went on her voice growing louder at the groans of disappointment. ‘There’s enough to be had all around from the generous Master Fordogrim for now. And later, when my friends and I perform our little show in the Inn yard here, we can tap the cask and all have another mug or two.’ She smiled saucily out toward the gathered Hobbits. ‘You’re all invited, of course. And Gil and his group will surely be joining us to play and sing.’

Over the heads of the crowd she could see the glint of sunlight off Gwyn’s earring as he nodded his head and smiled at her.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordogrim hid the sigh of relief that swelled his bosom at such a happy conclusion to what had appeared to be a disaster in the making, but at the same time he little liked the idea of being upstaged by these others. If there was to be a song made of this day he wanted to ensure that it would be a song about his own generosity and the glories of his beer. He snuck a quick peak at the casks remaining in the wagon and after a swift calculation decided that he could pull it off...just.

The crowd was beginning to move off, distracted by the apparent close of the display so he had to leap upon the wood pile and raise his hands above his head to gain their attention. "Why," he cried, "I have heard many fine things about the folk of this here Inn, but I must say that this display of gallantry and civility is well beyond what I could have expected. Handsome, I say it is, most handsome. And it seems only right to me that I reward all those whose handsomeness has done us credit. Miz Rowan, you and your friends here shall have a cask of my best stout -- dark it is, like the coming of night in summer; heavy with the promise of a relaxed evening with friends. You, my friend Dwarf, shall have to your own a cask of hearty ale -- drink it with but a cracker or two and it shall be like a full meal. And to the hobbit Robin (someone fetch him out and let him know) shall go a cask of my very best Gold: a lager so light and so crisp that it passes over the tongue like liquid gold and leaves the mouth as clean as water!" A general cheer went round the yard at his generosity. But Fordogrim was determined to make it one better yet. "And if I might second the opinion of Miz Rowan, might I suggest to all our winners that they set aside their casks for tonight so they can share them round with everyone -- for I propose that we declare tonight to be a Party Night, at which we celebrate the spirit of fair-play and friendliness that is so much part of this here Shire!"

[Arry]

‘Well, well, Gil Tussock,’ said Tomlin nudging his red cheeked friend with a sharp elbow to the ribs. ‘Looks as if this one has gone and kissed you first.’ ‘And isn’t that a first all round?’ he went on, winking at the Muddyfoot brothers.

Fallon and Ferrin, for their part, had their thoughts on the cask of stout that Fordogrim had mentioned. Ferrin, in fact, was licking his lips in anticipation of the dark, hoppy liquid. ‘Do y’think he might give us a taste now?’ he asked his brother, ignorant of the fact that Tomlin had spoken to him. ‘Just a wee tot . . . for comparison . . . to the Dragon’s stout.’

‘Don’t know about that,’ returned Fallon, watching Fordogrim balance himself on the loosely stacked woodpile. ‘Can tell you this, for sure, the man’s a right showman himself, now, isn’t he? Knows how to sell himself . . . and his beer. You know, he reminds me of . . .’

Further comments on the subject were interrupted by Tomlin, clearing his throat quite loudly. ‘Perhaps you two could help me get our . . . leader, here . . . moving?’ He nodded to where Gil still stood dumbstruck. ‘Our talents have been called on for tonight. We should pull ourselves together for a bit of practice . . . don’t you think?’

‘Pardon us, Miz Foxburr,’ Tomlin offered in apology for leaving her standing alone in they yard. ‘But best we’d warm up if we’re to join you tonight.’ Ferrin and Fallon stood to each side of Gil and had him securely by the arms. They were just leading him down the path to the Great Road when Ferdy and his Da pulled in at the gate with their cart.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Ferdy asked, jumping down from the seat. He waved his Da on, saying he would catch up to him in a few moments.

‘Whipped with a rowan switch,’ Tomlin quipped. ‘Fair bewitched,’ threw in Fallon. ‘Muddle-headed,’ laughed his brother. ‘We’re going down to The Pool to put together a playlist for tonight,’ Ferrin continued. ‘There’s to be a big party in the Inn yard. Come on along and join us, why don’t you? We’ll wait for you down the road a bit. Go tell your Da.’

Ferdy hurried on down the path and up the stairs to the Inn’s door. ‘A rowan switch,’ he muttered, puzzling over Tomlin’s comment. ‘Now what in blue blazes is that all about?’

[Primrose Bolger]

‘Of course it was an accident!’ Ginger looked as kindly at Wren as she could. ‘Now it’s true I haven’t know you or your brother for long, but from what I’ve seen, neither of you have a mean bone in your body. Things just got out of hand a bit. I’ll bet if we took a look out the front window, we’d see they’d already been put to right. No one’s going to make you and your brother go away. And we certainly aren’t going to let anyone take you from here.’

There was a commotion in the common room, and Ginger got up to peek through the kitchen door to see what was going on. The room was all abuzz with the news of the party. ‘What party?’ she asked, stopping Ruby as she took a pitcher of ale to some waiting customers. Ruby stopped for a moment and told her the details of the mug stacking contest and what had been offered by the beerseller, Fordogrim Chubb. And how the players who come to the Inn last night, or rather the Hobbit lass with them, had announced they would be putting on a show this very evening . . . in the Inn’s front yard. ‘To be joined by Gil and his friends, too,’ she said winking at Ginger. ‘Ferdy, I’m sure, will be there.’

Ginger hurried back to the kitchen, her cheeks red, her eyes sparkling. ‘Oh, Wren! I’ve just heard the best news! The mugs and such have all been set in order and there’s to be a party this evening. No time for gloomy faces and worrying . . .’ She looked about the kitchen. The mutton stew was simmering on the hob, the rolls were rising nicely – almost ready for the oven. ‘We’ve got us some time before we have to start serving lunch. What say we run up to the attic and look through the old trunks that travelers left and never came back for? We’ll find us some pretty things to wear to the party.’

She grabbed Wren’s hand and hurried her up the back kitchen stairs to her room. There was a long corridor that connected to the attic on the other side of the Inn where the forgotten trunks and mathoms were stored. The sun poured in weakly through the dusty window. ‘You look through that one over there,’ she said, pointing to a battered basswood trunk. ‘I’ll give a look through this one.’