The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Undómë]

‘My brother, I think, will not forgive you, Farael. And, in truth, I will be lucky if I am forgiven.’ Telu started up the steps to the Inn’s door, shrugging her shoulders slightly as if to shake off unpleasant thoughts.

‘Pardon us, lady!’ The door banged open and two Hobbit men came through bearing a large table between them. When she looked at them, surprised, the one at the back grinned and nodded toward the front lawn. ‘Going to be a party tonight, Miss. Food and drink and music and dancing! Just setting up for it.’ They hurried past her and down to the grass where a short argument ensued. ‘She told us to put it over there, Minto!’ the one in the back said. ‘Oh, that she did,’ the one in front returned, pulling his companion along. ‘But I’m thinking it’ll do better over there by those bushes.’

‘A party, Farael!’ Telu leaned on the railing of the porch and watched the Hobbits maneuver the table into position. ‘Perhaps our stars are lucky today . . . perhaps this is one of your “possibilities”.’ She turned and regarded him thoughtfully. This might be one of her last pleasant memories of Middle-earth, she thought. That is, if Tindo had not had a change of heart and allowed her to stay a little longer. A light flush tinged the fine bones of her cheeks. And she managed a smile at the boldness of her request. ‘You’ll be free, won’t you? I should like to go with you to this . . . party.’

Her courage seemed to flee her. She could just hear her brother saying she was ‘reckless’, once again. And what would Farael think of her request? She had only known him for a little while. She had no rights to make demands upon him and his time. The fingers of one hand rested lightly on his forearm. ‘That is, if you are going . . . would you mind my tagging along, too? I promise, I won’t be in your way.’

[Farael]

Farael smiled "not on my way, you say? well, I would be more than glad if you would accept going to the party with me rather than just 'tagging along'. And rather than not being in my way would you mind, eh..." It was his turn to blush now "well, I have learned many things in my short life but I eh... I never learned to dance"

He did not dare to ask the question as such, but he left it to Telu to decide if she would like to teach him how to dance or not. "In the mean time, do you think it is fair for them halflings to do all the work? I think it would only be fair that we helped them if we want to join the party as well!" He said as he walked inside to look for the Innkeeper and ask her where he could help.

[piosenniel]

~*~ Announcement ~*~

You are all invited to post in The Yule Log in Rohan. Just read Bêthberry’s introductory post and join in at The Green Man Free House for the next few weeks.

Come share a story of ghosties, and ghoulies, and sharp toothed goblins for the days of the Winter’s Yule while the fire burns bright and warm and the drink flows freely.


~*~ Pio

[Arry]

Gil and Tomlin were hiding in the thick bushes to the south of the Inn’s smokehouse. They were crouched down, the only thing visible their eyes, perhaps, when the light caught them. Their ears were open wide for sounds of any approach and their eyes scanned the area to sea if the culprit might come back.

Tomlin nudged Gil, his head nodding in a vaguely northerly direction. The sounds of some four legged beast, it seemed, could be heard in the distance, growing louder as it crashed across the Inn yard toward them. They were about to bolt and run, when they heard familiar voices call their names.

‘Over here!’ cried Gil, standing up from his hiding place. He listened to Cook’s instructions and shook his ‘No’ as Ferrin came to the end of them. ‘We can’t leave Cook to be out here by herself!’ he declared, his sense of male pride offended at the thought. ‘We’ll just wait for her . . . and the Shiriff. Make sure she’s alright.’

‘And what if it’s a bear . . . a big bear . . . with long sharp teeth and claws like she said,’ whispered Fallon, as the four of them hunkered down in the bushes.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Ciro sighed heavily, again. He had just been been notified by a chirpy little serving-hobbit that the group of Dwarves sitting across the room had requested that he join them. He looked over to where the Hobbit pointed and saw that they were sitting with the girl who had been watching him since he arrived. It would be rude not to join them; moreover it would immediately appear suspicious, as no ordinary tourist would turn down the chance of fellowship and cheer.

Ciro thanked the hobbit and stood up. Leaving his booth, he walked slowly towards his first test. Concentrate, he told himself, you cannot slip now.

He arrived at the table, and smiled at his would-be friends. Their overall demeanour was jovial, and Ciro could certainly envisage an easier time at the Green Dragon than he had previously feared.

"Good day, my Dwarves! I am most gracious and glad of your invite. Some company and some luncheon will suit me well. And greetings to you, my lady. I hope I have not scared you with my ragged appearance."

"My name is Ciro," he said with a grin.

[Naria]

Riding her horse Flicker, a speckled Perchon breed, Naria came to a halt in front of the inn. Being from Rohan she was well suited for such a big animal. She dismounted and securely tied him to a post outside and told him to stay calm and get some rest. She had learned from an elder in Rohan how to speak with her horse and other smaller creatures.

Naria approached the inn and walked through the door. Fixing her tossled auburn hair,she walked up too the bar and ordered a tall ale. Waiting for her beverage she took notice of all the goings on. She clasped the ale with much gratitude and took a long needed drink, then look around for an appropriate seat and took it.

Naria heared a ruckus next to her table and noticed three drunkards; two dwarves and with back too her, what appears to be a female. She thinks to herself "maybe that person will be my apprentice and learn the gift of speaking to the animals."

Her attention is quickly averted when she realizes that she hasn't eaten in a day or so. Leaving her seat and approaching the barkeep Naria asks for some food.

[piosenniel]

Cook hurried along, the heavy iron poker grasped firmly in her hand. It was not long before she neared the smokehouse, its door hanging a little ajar. She stopped, casting her gaze about the area. She could see nothing or no one lurking nearby, nor hear any movement in the smokehouse itself.

With as quiet a step as she could muster, Cook crept up to the door, the poker held bravely before her. She got just close enough to swing open the door with the tip of her erstwhile weapon, then stepped closer, peering into the smoky interior.

A loud voice from behind startled her. And she rounded on what she thought might be the thief-returned, the poker held high.