The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Noinkling]

Notch was puzzled by the quietness of the common room as he woke up. His little burrow by the fireplace was snug and warm and he almost shrugged off the lack of talking and feet scuffling along the floor and went back to sleep. But he was a curious mouse at heart.

He poked his little nose out sniffing for the smells of supper. Faint it was. Daring a further venture he eased out his head and looked about with his bright black eyes. Except for a few of the old fellows who were permanent fixtures at the Inn, the room was empty.

Eyes and ears alert; little feet scurrying along the wooden floor, Notch made for the door.

[Folwren]

Wren held the kitchen door open so that Ginger could come through, both her hands laden, one with a basket of rolls to replace the one that sat momentarily empty on the table, and another with a plate of cookies. She cast Wren a smile to thank her and the girl grinned back and skipped out before the hobbit to make sure that nothing was in her way when she arrived at the tables laden with food.

When she was relieved of her burden, Ginger turned to Wren, who still fluttered about her, and gave her leave to go and do what she would - the work, at present, was finished. Wren nodded and waved and set off in search of her brother.

She found him shortly and they stopped and surveyed one another. He had been given a clean shirt and he had had the wits to wash his face and comb his hair back from his forehead. As for Wren, Ginger had gone to considerable lengths doing the little girl up. The dress she wore fit her well, and was perfectly pressed, and they had brushed and combed her hair until it shone and then pulled back the top and sides. She didn’t have the tumbling curls that hobbits possessed, but there was a slight wave in her dark hair that couldn’t be called unattractive.

“You look very well, Tim,” Wren said coming up to him.

“Ah, I guess,” Tim replied. As most boys probably are, he wasn’t too enthusiastic about having to dress and look nice. “Where’ve you been all this time?”

“In the kitchen, helping getting everything ready to bring out here and serve. Isn’t it jolly? We’ll have so much fun tonight! Do you suppose Woody and Hanson will be here tonight?”

“Well, that’s his uncle, I think, playing up there,” Tim replied motioning towards Gil and the musicians. “He did say he was his uncle, right?” Wren shrugged, still craning her neck to look and see. Tim bent to her level and putting his hand on top of her head, turned it in the right direction. “And if he’s their uncle, then they might be here tonight, too!”

“Oh, yes, I see!” Wren said with an excited hop. “Come on, come on! Let’s go see if we can find them. P’raps he’ll know if they’re here.” She started off in the direction of the general audience. There were many people about, some dancing, some eating, some talking, and some doing two things at a time. Tim went after his sister and caught her arm.

“We’re not going to interrupt them,” he told her.

“Oh, no, I know. Not at all. But Woody and Hanson will be about somewhere.” And once again she headed off, threading her way easily through the people in search of the two hobbit children she and her brother had met the previous evening. . .

[Kath]

"No, it's all right. I can get myself something. Besides, I don't know what they have."

Not put off in the least by this response Astilwen quickly moved chairs out of the way for the woman and continued to chatter as she walked along beside her.

"Well from what I saw on the way over there's plenty to choose from. If you like your savouries there's roast chicken with mounds of taters and rolls alongside butter. And if your tastes run more to the sweet side you'll find more than enough there to satisfy. Course, I don't know how much will be left by now, you might have to fight someone for it!"

Smiling she took the woman's hand to lead her through a group of hungry hobbits that surrounded the tables. She felt a slight resistance at first and would have let go, but it faded as quickly as she felt it, and soon the two of them found themselves faced with heaps of food.

[Undómë]

Tindo

Tindo had not intended to go to the party. What he had wanted to do was to pack his and Telu’s belongings, see to the care of their horses, pay what they might owe to the Dragon, and be ready at first light to leave the Inn. To return westward, to the havens, where he and Telu would sail West. And no amount of pouting lip, glaring eye, or threatened tears would sway him.

He’d finished the packing and was about to go downstairs to find something for his evening meal, when the sound of music and laughter drifted up and through the window to his room. He twitched back the curtain giving a cursory glance to the festivities below. He had nearly turned away when his eye caught sight of his sister. In her green dress, she was like a new leaf caught in a sudden breeze - he saw another Elf hold her hand and twirl her about. And on the Elf’s face seemed a look of interest and delight at the figure of his sister.

He rubbed at his forehead, a sort of exasperated ache furrowing his brow. ‘Telu, what are you doing now?’

All thought of eating fled him as he trounced down the stairs and out the door to the party. His gaze was fixed on his sister as he wove his way toward her . . .

* * * * *

Telu

Telu’s cheeks were flushed pink, from the poem Emlin had said to her and from the pressure of his hand on hers as he twirled her about. She took a deep breath in an attempt to recollect herself and a step back from him. Her eyes caught sight of Farael, across the yard from her, and she smiled, hoping he had seen her there.

‘I’ve not introduced my self,’ she began, turning her attention back to Emlin and trying to sound as normal and unflustered as she might. ‘My name is Teluyaviel. And yes, I am from the Great Green Wood.’ Her eyes clouded for a moment. ‘But of late we, my brother and I, have come from the Havens. Taking one last journey . . . at my request.’

She heard her name called from somewhere behind her. Telu turned and smiled, thinking her brother had relented and would join her at the party. ‘Tindo!’ she called back to him. ‘Come meet a new friend – Emlin.’

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"Well...on the way over there's plenty... from. If you like your savouries there's roast chicken... taters and rolls alongside butter. And if your tastes... the sweet side...more than enough there to satisfy. Course, I don't know how much will be left by now, you...someone for it!"

Most of what the woman said passed Ariane by in the bustle of music, noice, and typical clamor filling the room with the sound of people, though she tried to sort out the idea of what had been said. I've never met someone as eager as her before, she thought.

Working her way through a group of hobbits, she found she clung slightly to her newfound companion's hand before they finally reached the table, loaded already with food ranging from meat, vegtables, and various sweets of many types, shapes, sizes, and smells. Or perhaps... yes. Eru, I never thought anyone could match Gaelyn. Ariane smiled reminicently for a moment before latching onto a plate and sticking relatively behind the other woman to get some chicken, potatoes, and something that looked slightly like chocolate.

She had always liked sweets, and decided there wasn't anyone around to care if she gained weight from overeating. "So," she said, raising her voice slightly as she sought a roll from the table. "What's your name, anyway?"

[nynnd1]

“It was best for me to leave the white city. There was nothing keeping me there, I have no family, and life here seems that it will be good.” Bredan stopped and put a potato in his mouth. “and it will be amazing if these potatoes are anything to go by!” Bredan said as he scooped up more potatoes to fill his bowl. Bredan also took some slices of chicken and more vegetables that smelt like nothing he had ever smelt before. He had not realised how hungry he was until he tried that potato.

“After the party I will show you what I collected from the bandits. You can see if there is anything from the merchants that you left.”

Bredan turned to look out at the party, Farael was already looking, and Bredan sensed that he was troubled by something.

“I told Master Meriadoc that I would go back one day to see him, you can come with me when I go if you want?” Bredan hoped that this news may take his new found friends mind off of what he was thinking about.

[Kath]

Astilwen had been pleased to note that the woman stayed with her at the table and even seemed to have cheered up a little. She knew she'd been pretty insistent at first but she just hated to see anyone upset, and rather than ask them about it and send them into further sadness, getting them up and about often seemed to do the trick.

Behind the general babble she heard a question directed at her, and stopped filling her plate for a moment to answer it.

"So, what's your name, anyway?"

"I'm Astilwen. Odd name for a hobbit I know but I'm used to it now! And you?"

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Ciro walked through the shadows of the dimly-lit corridor. Sadness was etched on his face, but as yet no-one in the Inn knew why. He had met a hidden stranger by a back door of the building, and the man brought tidings which concerned Ciro deeply. He had decided to leave.

He walked to the front door and noticed a small group of folk arriving at the Inn for the party. Ciro halted in front of the door to the bar, which was open, as the group obstructed his exit. At this moment, Penn caught his eye and waved him over. She looked quite lonesome. All Ciro could do, though, was shake his head.

Penn trotted over and, pushing through the crowd at the door, asked Ciro what was wrong. "After all, there's going to be a lovely party, tonight."

Ciro looked at her carefully. "I have to go, miss" he said. "It's not safe for me to stay here. I'm sorry I couldn't speak longer with you. Do tell the Dwarves that it was a pleasure to speak with them, won't you? They'll understand."

"Don't leave!" cried Penn. But Ciro had made up his mind. His plans had gone awry. The Southern Man was in great peril and could in no way meet Ciro at the Green Dragon. The only people who would enquire about Ciro in this land now would be enemies.

He tipped his hat toward Penn, opened the front door, and strode off.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"I'm Astilwen. Odd name for a hobbit I know but I'm used to it now! And you?"


Ariane paused where she was examining various interesting looking sweets, the music drilling its way to loop in her head, over and over again as it carried on playing in the background, but also staying in her mind in one particular little point. "Ariane. Ariane Calthye." She shrugged. "I'm really not certain of where it came from, and a few have remarked to its tone."

She found the hobbit to be a most remarkable person, a bit like she might have ended up had she been about two feet shorter, and had a chance to grow up properly, in a much different manner. Were all short people stereotyped to be cheerful, Ariane wondered to herself? There had been a time when she had been a cheerful person who couldn't be matched for the melodrama, salient and proud of it.

Perhaps Elachi had changed her, then...

But she shook it aside. Her husband wasn't there (though some part of her mind wished he was, if only to see if he'd hit his head on the doorway), and she had someone to talk to. Someone who most certainly was not concerned about the issues in her reality. Someone who might actually hold a relatively sane conversation with her, and not care about her height, for that matter. She smiled to herself. That was a rareity.

[Undómë]

Teluyaviel smiled gratefully at Emlin from behind her brother’s back. The older Elf’s courteous words had engaged Tindomion, who now felt he had someone of equal standing who might understand and sympathize with him. She backed away as Tindo began his complaint about her, mouthing a heartfelt ‘Sorry!’ to Emlin as she did so.

She wormed her way through the crowd, putting as much distance between herself and Tindo as she could. A short ways away now, she saw Farael. He was sitting with two other men. Eating and drinking and looking as if they were enjoying each other’s company.

Telu pushed back her long dark hair, catching a few stray tendrils behind her ears. She shook out the skirt of her green dress and took a deep breath. The men looked quite engaged with each other, but making herself bold she approached the table.

‘Would you have room at this merry table for one more to join you?’ she asked, a smile dimpling her face.

[Kath]

"But enough about my issues. I can't help I'm this way. What's interesting about life in the Shire?"

Allowing Ariane to skirt around these personal issues that had so affected her life in Gondor, Astilwen set about making her feel more at ease with tales of the Shire. As she spoke though, she found it hard to think of things that made life interesting. Fun and enjoyable and comfortable yes, but not interesting. She loved it here, and would never wish to have been born anywhere else, for even in Bree the hobbit parents weren't so free with their friendships and their children, having to look out for the Big People all around. The sheltered life that hobbits in the Shire had was often taken for granted, but it was still appreciated.

She realised that she had trailed off into thought, and that Ariane was looking saddened at the thought that perhaps the Shire was not the paradise it was made out to be. Feeling ashamed of herself for thinking such thoughts about her home Astilwen quickly set about telling tales of parties and happenings that had occurred in her lifetime, and soon had the other woman laughing at her descriptions of hobbits so fat after sumptuous meals that they could not walk themselves home.

"It sounds wonderful!" Ariane said through her giggles.

"It is." Sighed Astilwen. "But sometimes I feel that I would like to leave, to see more of the world, like you."

[Farael]

After the little incident with the chair, Naria approached Farael and his two newfound friends. He stood up and introduced the lady to Bredan and Reddie and just as he was sitting down he heard a voice he had been craving -and dreading- to hear all night long.

"Would you have room at this merry table for one more to join you?’" Said Teluyaviel which prompted another round of introductions. "Gentlemen and Naria, this is Teluyaviel from the lands that used to be called Mirkwood. Telu, these are Bredan of Gondor (like myself), Reddie Sundry from the eastern lands... no, pardon me, from the east of these lands and Naria whom I believe you have met this afternoon." After everyone at the suddenly crowded table had said their respective 'hello's and 'how are you's they went back to what seemed to be the most popular conversation topic with the strangers to The Shire. The food.

"Ladies, Gentlemen," Started Farael "I have travelled a little bit. Little by elven standards, " he nodded at Telu "but a fair bit for us men. I was born in Gondor and traveled to many a city on its realms. I have been to Rohan as well yet I have never tasted food as good as the one I have today. I don't know if Master Bredan has heard this during his time in the White City but for a while it was fashionable to compliment someone's cooking by saying that it was 'as good as Lembas for a tired traveller' -considering My Lord the King used to have it as a meal during his great adventures- but if M'lady Teluyaviel will forgive me I shall declare that this food is even better than the elven bread!" He realized then that, caught up in the moment, he had stood up and was holding his mug of ale as if proposing a toast. "Cheers" he muttered and sat down again, hoping in the soft yet dim light no one would notice him blushing.

[Arry]

Gammer Boffin, Woody, and Hanson arrive . . .

Gammer Boffin turned her little cart into the lane leading down to the Inn and clucked at the pony to speed him up. ‘Step lively, Strawfoot!’ she called to him. ‘Don’t want to miss the party.’ She turned to her great grandsons, Woody, eleven years, and Hanson, five, who sat squirming on the seat next to her.

‘Seems old Strawfoot ain’t listenin’ tonight lads. He’s as slow as molasses in Afteryule!’ she cackled. ‘Might as well jump down, you two, and run and get Granny a nice comfortable chair, not to far from the food and drink, mind you.’ She watched as the two little boys jumped from the slow moving cart.

‘And see if you can find Gil, will you lads? Tell him Granny’d like to sit with him a spell.’ She watched as they ran off toward the gathered crowd of partygoers. With a sigh and another cluck of her tongue she turned Strawfoot toward the stable and let him amble along.

--------------------------------------

Gil

Make a fool of yourself in love . . . the words seemed to echo about in his head as he walked to where Rowan stood, leaning against the end of a table near the casks of ale.

She watched him as he drew near, her eyes glancing at him with a hint of mischief over the rim of her mug. She scooted over, making room for him to lean against the table, too. He cleared his throat, intending to say something clever, but nothing came out. And suddenly his throat was parched, his tongue as dry as a bone.

He turned and raised his brows enquiringly at her; his hand going up toward his mouth as he mimed drinking. Not waiting for her to say ‘yes’, he took the mug from her hands and swallowed a big gulp.

[nynnd1]

Bredan chuckled under his breath at Faraels’ toast, but thought that it seemed like a fun thing to do, and maybe to stop some embarrassment to his new friend he rose from his chair, puffing out his chair and standing tall as he could, he always seemed to do this when speaking publicly and around women. Bredan raised his mug and breathed inwards, hoping that words would come from his mind.

“If it is toasting that is called for then please let me try.”

Bredan cleared his throat and shut his eyes for a second,

“I too have travelled to many places, for a man anyway,” Bredan said acknowledging the new found elf friend as Farael had,

“And the food truly is perhaps the greatest I have had in middle earth, though I have never tried the famous bread of the elves” Bredan looked again at the elf maiden sitting with him, Bredan had always had huge respect for elves, he always imagined this to be from the stories that he heard growing up where elves had done great deeds, although always he hoped it was elf magic at work.

“But the only thing that is in the shire that is better than the food and ale,” Bredan raised the mug to acknowledge the ale, “is the hospitality of Hobbits, I declare that this party is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, with almost all races of Middle Earth in one party. So Ladies and Gentlemen, to the Shire and its Hobbits, Cheers.”

“Cheers” came the response, although it sounded a lot louder than just the new friends Bredan was sitting with. It was then that Bredan realised the music had stopped and the whole party was listening him to. Bredan gave a huge smile, raised his mug and sat down, looking at Farael he asked,

“Am I blushing more than you now friend?”

[Thinlómien]

Brith continued lurking on the edges of the party area. She ate a bit though she wasn't hungry. All around him people were chatting with their friends and Brith was one of the few who were alone.

She sat on a bench and listened people talking and having fun. It had been a long while since she had been in a party. With a sudden pang, she missed all her friends in Gondor. She missed even her faitless fiance, Belecthor, who had run away with a pretty rohir girl. She had fled Gondor because of her relationship problems, but now she wished that she had stayed and solved the problems. She longed for friendship and even idle chatter, but she was too shy to approach anyone. She sighed and blushed when someone looked at her questioningly because of her sigh.

"If you're sad, drink. It always help, my lass", her grandfather had advised her long ago when he had been alive. With her sudden sadness she decided it was one of the greatest advices she had ever gotten. She went and poured herself a big pint of beer.

[Undómë]

‘ . . . tried an ale before?’

Telu closed one eye as she looked toward the source of the question. Farael. And there seemed now to be three of him; the images wavering with the slightest movement of her head. Her eyes, the pupils now widely dilated, were almost as dark as the night sky. And her cheeks felt aflame, whether from the effects of the drink or the fact she felt the touch of Farael’s hand as he grasped her wrist.

‘Actually, no,’ she said in a small voice, managing to get him into focus. She disengaged her hand from him and clasped the both of hers around the mug of water. It was cool to the touch and after a small sip she held it to her reddened cheeks.

In an effort not to look directly at Farael, or any of the others at the table, for she was now quite chagrined at her behavior, Telu glanced about the party area. With a gasp she turned back to the table and ducked down her head. Her brother, Tindo was looking about . . . for her.

‘Oh, if he sees what I’ve gone and done now, he’ll drag me off tonight!’ Her eyes darted quickly about the Inn yard. ‘Where can I hide?’

[Nogrod]

"What is it, that you would have to hide? Is he someone you know?" asked Reddie, stretching himself up. "If there is trouble, I'll help you just for the sake of having this good night to go on better than it started". He made a look towards Tindo and scorned him.

Here Naria got in. "That's their bussiness, don't get involved into it". Reddie looked up to Naria, and was quite baffled. What had he been doing? Just one ale, and he was losing his grip.

"Sorry", he said to Naria, and took to his pint. But Naria would not let him go that easily. "What were you thinking about? You really would like to go between a brother and a sister? On whose side would you be in, and why?"

Reddie was clearly not his own master now. His hands were starting to shake. "I said sorry, isn't that enough? What do you want?" he asked Naria , and concentrated on his pint again.

[Farael]

"Don't worry Master Reddie, fighting would be of no use this time... yet I guess I have gotten between these brothers once, I might as well do it another time. Telu, you will get into a lot of trouble if your brother finds you drunk like this... yet the only other option I can think about... well, it could get you into as much trouble. We can't stay here... so would you well.... would you..." Farael blushed, then got mad at himself for being so shy "dancewithme?" yet then he blushed even more.

Tindo was slowly making his way towards the table, yet he did not seem to have seen them. Farael stood up and still holding Telu's wrist bowed and smiled at her, hoping she'd accept.

[Lhunardawen]

“That’s it. This has gone long enough. My life is wasting away, and I will not let you ruin whatever little is left of it.”

Tilionwen’s tear-stained face was as stern as it could manage, but deep inside she was overcome with doubt. She tried her best to suppress the quavering in her voice, for the most part hoping to convince herself to believe in what she was saying. Yet despite her best efforts, He saw through her pretense. He reached out to her in condescending kindness, at the same time casting a smug, pitiful look at her for her futile attempt.

Reluctantly, Tilionwen found herself succumbing once again. The Moon’s bright rays seemed to lovingly caress her and it just felt so warm, so comforting. But she knew in her heart that she would never find peace unless He finally leaves her be – and that is as impossible as His light stopping from shining on everything in its path. But for her own sake, she also knew that she had to try. Mustering the fragments of courage left within her, she held herself as high as her low spirits would allow and turned abruptly on her heel.

She had been hearing that dull noise for quite some time now, and she was certain that it came from a gathering of some sort. She strode purposefully towards the direction of its source and hoped that she would lose the Moon in the crowd. Optimistic now, she increased her pace and even began to skip a little. She was aware that He was still mocking her in her trail, but with some effort she managed to ignore Him.

An inn loomed in view, and Tilionwen cheered inside when she realized that a party was being held there. She halted a stone's throw away from the inn, untangled her long, dark, wind-messed hair with her fingers and wiped her face with her palms in an effort to look the least bit presentable.

The Green Dragon, as she found out the inn is called, seemed to her a delightful place. But what she was hoping to find there was at least one kind, inviting face, and so far there was none. She urged herself to adapt to the festive mood of her surroundings, yet something was holding her back. She felt caged, alone, and isolated – and suddenly paranoia seized her. Do they know? she repeatedly asked herself as she looked warily around. Now all she wanted was to get away from her hoped-for refuge. Walking some distance away from the tables and the people, she found a spot where she can be by herself. Her slender form drooped like a flower bereft of rain, and after a long moment of hesitation, she looked up apologetically at the Moon.

[Lhunardawen]

"What is your real name? And why was it changed?"

There was a moment of hesitation for Tilionwen as the hobbit - whose name, she realized, she did not yet know - asked her this, and she gently reminded herself that she had already decided to trust her. Besides, she felt more and more comfortable with her as the seconds pass.

"To be completely honest with you," Tilionwen started, "I don't remember my real name." She paused for a moment, then continued, "I guess it's best to start from the beginning." The hobbit folded her hands together and looked at her with an expression of polite curiosity.

"I remember being a young lady from Arnor. My mother died when I was very young, much to the grief of my father. And as if to compensate for her loss, my father loved us very deeply, me and my younger, only, sister. He was a little overprotective of us, but we competelely understood him. Surely he wouldn't want to lose any one of us; that would probably kill him. And as for my sister, we were just inseparable. After all, we only have each other to hang on in our mother's absence."

Tilionwen continued her tale as her mind drew back to those times long past, and in her mind's eye the events once again began to unfold...

------------------------------------------

It was a beautiful morning. The sun shone brightly, but not too much, and a soft breeze blew throughout the entire countryside. Tilionwen and her sister thought it would be a good day for a walk in the woods, and so they asked their father.

"So long as you take care of yourselves, and be home before nightfall!" The sisters smiled excitedly at each other and took leave of their father.

Before long they were enjoying the shade of the trees and the sight of all the animals that crossed their path, but suddenly dark clouds began to gather in the previously clear blue sky. Worried that the rain might fall while they're still there, they started to make their way back home. The sky grew darker and darker as they did, until at last the rain fell. Eventually the sisters could no longer see their way, so they sat under a big tree in the freezing rain and waited for the storm to pass, keeping each other entertained with reminiscences of their childhood. They stayed there patiently until at last the night came, but the relentless rain continued pouring. They thought of their father who was assuredly sick with worry back at their home, but there was nothing they could do to let him know that they were fine.

After some time Tilionwen began feeling drowsy, and her sister told her to lie on her lap. So she lay there, listening to her sister's beautiful voice humming the lullabies their mother once sang to them...and she gave in to slumber.

She awoke later in the evening, when the rain had already stopped. She was dazed for a moment, and rubbing the sleep off her eyes, she looked towards her sister. She found that she, too, had already succumbed to the night. Her sister was leaning on the tree trunk; a peaceful smile was on her face. Tilionwen did not want to bother her, but she was anxious to get back home to their father, so she stood and began rousing her. She shook her a little, and there was no response. With increasing fear she continued to shake her sister's slender body, more and more violently with each passing moment of silence. And then she saw a glint of reflected moonlight a little to her sister's right. She looked closely and found a blade - one her sister always carried with her, at her father's insistence, wherever she went; Tilionwen had one as well. But she saw that this one was stained with blood...with a snake lying nearby, its body cloven in two.

A shriek of both horror and despair escaped Tilionwen's lips as she kneeled next to her sister and searched her right arm. She found two puncture wounds on her forearm, large enough to be seen under the moonlight. Upon seeing them her sanity completely left her. She looked up towards the Moon and she screamed from the depths of her heart, a scream of anguish and pain.

------------------------------------------

Tilionwen reeled from her reverie and found herself looking once again towards the moon. Yet ironic as it was, Astilwen noted, this time a tranquil softness was on her face. "And so began my spirit's slavery under the moon," Tilionwen barely whispered. "He never left me alone, and time and time again he reminded me of that fateful night, and of my father to whom I have never returned. How could I come back to him with that news, even were I sane?" Tilionwen looked down and faced Astilwen with a smile. "And to answer your question, the people who found me wandering in my lunacy gave me the name Tilionwen because they always found me speaking to the moon." She laughed gently, finding mirth in her statement and in Astilwen's expressed enlightenment. "Eventually the name stuck to me as if it is the name I was given at my birth. I never recalled my real name; perhaps I lost it under the moon's spell."

She found nothing more to say at the moment and fell into silence, giving the hobbit a chance to satisfy her curiosity. She breathed deeply once more, and felt all the heaviness within her escape as she exhaled.

[Undómë]

‘Of course you may join us.’ Telu put her hand on Farael’s arm to make him pause. He had a certain look on his face, soon smoothed over – as if he preferred not to have the company of Losse.

By the One! This being with him is a tricky thing. And a thing I’ve had no practice in. I’ve stepped over some bound, though what it is I’m not sure.

She took the jeweled hairpin the woman had given her and reaching forward, pinned back a stray strand of Losse’s hair. ‘There – now you’re dressed for the party!’ Telu stepped back, looking at the little gems as they glittered in the lights from the lanterns. ‘Farael,’ she grinned at him, linking her arm through his. ‘Lead on to the lemonade, won’t you?’

[JennyHallu]

‘Lead on to the lemonade, won’t you?’

With a smile at the man that promised mischief she took his other arm, waving gaily at the hobbit server to indicate her new table. She shook her thick chestnut hair, delighted with the way her new gift felt in her locks.

And a gift...this Lady is just determined to let nothing rain on her parade, is she? Well, with such brazen innocence Losse would not contend. Telu's person was sacred, for now, and now Losse would not touch her. A gift...The woman's generousity had defeated her, the cleverest, most lightfingered girl in all Minas Tirith, and that wasn't completely ego. The man however...she could still use some coin, and she had a feeling the evening would be very fun indeed.

She smiled joyfully to herself, catching a glimpse of her reflection in a polished mug. The elven-star in her hair glimmered brighter even than her mischievous eyes...a generous gift indeed. I'll have to remember not to use it for a lock-pick, she thought suddenly, with a guilty thought of the plain metal hairpins already in her hair, bent into odd and unrecognizable shapes by her particular hobbies...

[Farael]

"Great, just what I needed. I thought elves were wise beyond the understanding of men but to invite this girl, of all people, to join us? I guess there is nothing I can do about it." Farael's eyes opened wide and he checked the little bag of coins, the only remaining money he had left. They were still there.

What was he to do? He couldn't ruin the night for Teluyaviel. Her brother was quite intent on forcing her to leave the following morning. In the mean time, the women were talking quite animatedly while enjoying the lemonade. This thief girl was quite happy with her new hairpin. She was quite happy with her new harpin indeed. A smile dawned upon Farael's lips. He couldn't hurt this young lady, he couldn't tell her to go away without having to give Teluyaviel an explanation but with a smile and a quick bow he excused himself only to come back a few minutes later. He joined in the conversation and politely asked Telu's new friend where she was from.

[JennyHallu]

Losse's meal, a steaming hot pastry redolent with the delicious aromas of meat and vegetables, arrived just as the young man, whose name she gathered was Farael asked her of her origins. With a grin she quickly wolfed down a large first bite, fanning her mouth with her hand as she realized the hard way how hot it was.

"Sorry, excuse me, it's been a long trip from Bree and I can't cook for the life of me," she mumbled around the crust. Hastily she swallowed, washed it down expertly with a swig of the ale she'd already ordered, and settled in cheerfully to relate her tale, with only minor...erm...embellishments. She loved a good story, and hers was much better the way she told it than the way it was...

"My mother's name was Estuilas, and she was a great lady of the court Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth." Estuilas had been a rather silly young noblewoman, who despite her Numenorean ancestry, had not really been considered important enough to keep close to the court.

"My father was a famed bandit of the mountains, who swept my mother off her feet with grand schemes of love and honor, and spirited her away into hiding." Actually this part was mostly true, except for the fame, love, and honor bits. Benden was certainly a bandit, with some notoriety in the pastoral lands he frequented, but it was lust that made him keep Estuilas as well as her horse, as well as a certain dose of expediency: the horse, a mare of the Rohirrim, was a great deal more valuable than the girl.

"And I grew up in Minas Anor, the city of the Sun, in a house on the walls, looking out over the verdancy of the Pellinor Fields. My mother taught me the ways of the nobility, and the lore of the Numenoreans, and my father taught me....other things." She winked at Farael. "My parents died when orcs flung flame over the walls...but I was young, and the King returned, and all of Gondor was rejoicing. I suppose I fell through the cracks..." This, strangely enough, was entirely true. Laws had become somewhat lax in Minas Tirith through the rule of Denethor, and houses built against the walls were definitely illegal. Thus, only the very poor lived there. Benden, while he didn't exactly love his common law wife, was good to her, and doted rather possessively upon his lovely little girl, but still, if someone realized who she really was...no one had searched for Estuilas in all those years, but a life of banditry leaves a man with a certain paranoia, so his family had not been evacuated with the rest of the women and children. After their deaths a girl had to make a living somehow, and in a city filled with soldiers in the aftermath of war...there were worse ways. Losse's narrative paused here, as a tear twinkled at the corner of her eye, but she swept it away and continued with a grin, forking another far-too-large chunk of pastry.

"...And about a year ago, I decided my education could not be complete without a more thorough knowledge of the world. It seemed...prudent." She winked again at Farael.

[Arry]

Woody hung back, feeling awkward at the approach of the girl. He smiled at her a little, noting how pretty she was in her party dress.

‘Oh, come on, you big chicken!’ cried Hanson. ‘It’s our friend, Wren. She won’t bite you!’ He grabbed onto Woody’s vest and tugged him forward.

‘We’re supposed to be finding Gil! Gran said so,’ hissed Woody, in an attempt to recover some measure of control over the situation..

‘Oh, Gilly-snilly! You know he’s around here someplace. The other guys are up there playing and singing. And besides – you know Gran has found some neighbor of hers and forgotten all about sending us after Gil by now.’

‘Wren!’ Hanson said, smiling. ‘Boy are we happy to see you!’ He glanced quickly about the large party area. ‘Which way to the table with the cakes on it?’

Woody rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming next.

‘Want to help us sneak one off . . . all for ourselves?’

[Folwren]

Wren’s eyes opened wide at such a suggestion. “Steal a cake for ourselves?” she cried. “But that. . .” she was about to say, that wouldn’t be right, but then the idea of such fun and then they’d have just as much as they could possibly want. . .it was really too tempting to pass by. “Oh, that’d be jolly,” she said. “The cakes and desserts are over there.” She pointed to the table laden with pies as well as cakes and plates with great piles of cookies on them. “But first let’s go over to Tim. I think he’ll like to do it.”

She turned and trotted across towards Tim. “Hey, Tim? Woody and Hanson are here,” she said, coming to a stop beside her brother. He looked up and then stood and turned towards the two hobbit boys. “We were wondering if you wanted to help us steal a cake,” Wren continued without giving him a chance to greet them. “It was Hanson’s idea. He said we can steal one and have it all to ourselves. Want to help us?”

“I. . .don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Tim said hesitantly. His eyes, on Hanson, slowly turned towards Wren and when they settled on her excited, smiling face, his eye brows went up doubtfully. “What if we’re caught? You caused enough embarrassment for me earlier.”

“Oh, stuff and nonsense!” Wren said. “If your going to be boring, then you’re going to be boring by yourself. I’m going to steal a cake with at least Hanson, and if you choose not to, that’s your own problem.” She paused, waiting for him to answer. When the silence between them stretched to almost twenty seconds, she demanded impatiently, “Well, are you going to join us?”

“Eh, very well,” he said with a sigh. But then he smiled. “I’ll join you. Hello, Woody,” he said, nodding to the older hobbit. “I suppose you’re in this, too? What’s our plan of action? Shall we go to the barn and discuss things before actually taking a snag at one of the cakes?”

[Undómë]

The woman, Losse, must have a tic in her eye, decided Telu. It had happened twice, now, and both times when she glanced at Farael. Perhaps he made her nervous and this was some habit she had that occurred when she was anxious.

Losse certainly had had a far more interesting and adventurous life than she had, or so Telu reasoned. All her sixty years had been spent within the boundaries of Thranduil’s realm; and those, for the most part in the company of her family and their close relatives. And despite the war the Shadowed One made upon her people and the forest, there had been many glad times. Her memories of them brought her a certain joy.

While she had not traveled much herself, she had heard many stories of other creatures who lived in far places – the Periannath, the Halflings; the Skin-changers to the west of the forest; others of Men, who came in many guises so she was given to understand – Dunedain, Rohirrim, and those to the east and to the south. And there were Dwarves, of course, those mysterious ones who delved deep beneath the mountains for gems and metals. She had never met one, but the Elven smiths of Eryn Lasgalen bought those precious things to craft in their own ways.

She had met . . . no, rather she had seen the tall, grey eyed men who came to speak with King Thranduil from time to time. Rangers, the Dunedain. And she thought them fair in their own way. She smiled for a moment, her gaze drifting to Farael’s profile. He, too, seemed fair to her. She looked quickly away as his gaze turned to her.

And, of course, there were the Orcs. And she thanked the One she had never had cause to see one of them. Theirs was a darkness too horrid for her to grasp. She was glad that their foul master had been vanquished and that they were no longer able to wreak their havoc on her dear forest.

Telu’s mind drifted back to what Losse was saying. She was the daughter of a great lady and a common-born man – a bandit, she called him. A thief. And he had taught her certain ‘other’ things, with which, Telu surmised the woman had been able to make her living.

A certain suspicion began to grow in Telu’s mind. Her cheeks colored, slightly at her foolishness. Her brother had always chided her that she was too trusting a creature. And that someday that would bring her great trouble. Was this such a day, she wondered. She hoped not. But no wonder Farael had given her an odd look.

Still, she would like to think that Losse and she might be friends, at least for this little while.

‘That’s an odd word you use – “prudent”,'Telu said, her brow furrowing. 'Why would you want to leave your home, Losse, unless you had to? And this “education” – what is it exactly that you wish to learn?’ Telu sipped on her lemonade, wondering if the woman would speak plainly to her questions; for despite her years, she had little experience with the subtleties of how Men thought and seemed to couch their thoughts at times in words with layered meanings and gestures.

[JennyHallu]

Losse smiled at the elven woman. She had met elves before, tall, fair beings working in the streets to restore the Citadel, to make it into a fair garden as it should have been since the beginning. They inspired respect and love, to an extent, pulling from her the most genteel of the courtly manners she had learned of her mother. They were great and inscrutable and good...but in a way that seemed as far removed from her ken as...oh...as the stars must be to them, who were fascinated by them. This was the first she had ever met of elvenkind that struck her as a true innocent. It almost felt like Telu was younger than herself, in some inexplicable way, and the feeling, coupled with the woman's ageless, ethereal features, was...

Unsettling.

"My mother told me there was nothing that was not worth knowing, my lady. And though some doubt me, I am nothing if not a patriot. I love my King and my City, and it is said that he has reunited the long-sundered realms of Gondor and Arnor. Those of Dol Amroth by the Sea remember tales of old of Arnor, and even older tales of the Sea, which they love...my mother told them to me on her knee. Tales of beautiful places and high adventure; fascinating to me. The blood of my fathers in Numenor runs true in me. I have seen the Sea, and ached for it...perhaps I understand the call it has for your kind, a little. But that door is closed for Men, so...

I came here." She paused, having surprised herself a little at the depth of her own emotions. She hadn't stopped to think so much of where she would go, but she had never wavered from the need to come here, and now she had no doubt but that this was the reason. "As for prudence, I daresay the gentleman, your companion understands me well enough, but to you I will say only that most people have not your grace, my lady, and though they truly desire to...ahem...make my acquaintance? I will have none of their gifts."

[Farael]

“I am nothing if not a patriot”

That last comment crossed a line in Farael’s mind. One thing was to be a thief… well, he was a bit of a thrill seeker and while he made different (and better, he thought) choices, he might even tolerate this girl’s presence, for Telu’s sake. But to call herself a patriot? A rat would describe her better. He had to done something about it, and he knew exactly what to do. With a grin that might have been mistaken for a smile, he invited Losse out for a dance. “…for I am also from Gondor, and quite patriotic at that. It would certainly be a honor to dance with a fine Gondorian lady. “

He winked at Teluyaviel, hoping she would forgive him for what he was about to do. He told his elven friend he’d be back soon and started making his way towards the dance floor, hardly waiting for Losse’s answer.

[JennyHallu]

I am also from Gondor...

Losse felt a tremor of fear at his words, but quickly pushed it aside. Gondor was a large place, and she had probably overreacted when she left the city in the first place. Besides, I run the risk of becoming a bit egotistical if my first thought on meeting a countryman is that he must have heard of me. And I seriously doubt this honor-bound soldier ever even heard of Damiel, if he's even been home any later than I have.

"I would gladly share a dance with you, if my lady doesn't mind," she said, waiting for the Elven woman's friendly nod before she followed Farael towards the dancing green. The two seemed rather...friendly, and the last thing she wished to do was find herself dealing with a jealous woman, Elf or not. Tended to complicate things.

She took Farael's arm as she caught up with him. "Really, I've been told I'm a fair dancer. Took up with an acrobatic troupe for a while once, and they taught me a fair bit. And my mother taught me court dances." She smiled at him, enjoying the evening and the company with a good will. She'd seen the small purse firmly tied at his belt, of course, and eventually she would probably take it, but she had coin for a while if she needed it, and was careful. Even when she did nick it, it would be with no hard feelings, and since he knew her profession, it wouldn't be until she was ready to leave the Shire. Momentarily she wondered if he'd realize it wasn't personal, doubted it, and pushed the idea cheerfully to the back of her mind. As the two stepped into the set, she threw herself into the dance with a good will, proving herself to be not a fair, but an excellent dancer.

[Huan]

‘M’lady?’ Emlin drew near to Teluyaviel who now sat alone on the bench, a half drunk mug seemingly forgotten clutched in her hands. His gaze followed hers as she looked after the young man and the woman now dancing to the lively tune the Halflings played.

And who would want to leave such a one as she to sit alone? he wondered, his eyes taking in her enchanting face; studying it for a brief moment before she turned her attention to his presence.

‘May I join you?’ He nodded at the cup she held. ‘Would there be more of that? I am quite parched.’ He smiled as his gaze swept round the yard, taking in the lively festivities. ‘It is thirsty work – this making merry in the Shire.’

He sat in silence with her for a while, sipping at the lemonade she gave him. ‘Your brother has been quite forward, quite plain, in his speaking to me. Explaining how you two have come here, how he intends to take you back to Lindon on the morrow, and what boundaries he has set about you – what boundaries he does not wished crossed.’

His slender elven fingers tapped lightly against his mug, a counterpoint to the dance’s melody. ‘And what of you, my fair Lady of the Last Autumn? Have you, too, set a leaguer about your self?’

He held his breath, but briefly, wondering if he had been too bold.

[Undómë]

The light from the little lanterns that hung in the trees about the yard played about his silvered hair. Emlin’s face was cast half in shadow as he spoke to her. She could not read his features; she dared not yet seek his mind, unsure as she was of the intention behind his questions.

‘A leaguer, Master Emlin. What a curious choice of words. But then this night has been a most curious one for speech.’ Her voice trailed off, considering his question more fully. ‘Melian’s leaguer, that is what I think of when I hear that word. That none could pass into her fair country without her knowledge. And so she held back the Shadow from Thingol’s realm.’ She laughed, surprising him, she thought with such a merry assessment of so serious a subject.

And he seemed serious enough, this Elf of Lindon, though he spoke in a light voice. Something hangs on my answering . . . she thought, her grey eyes considering his demeanor. He speaks lightly, to be sure. But perhaps that is his own defense against what reply he might receive.

‘But you are no shadowed creature, or so I would deem you. Though, and let me be plain spoken in this matter, I find your presence disturbing . . . disquieting, more like. It puts me on edge in a way both unsettling yet enticing. And I have no girdle the like of the enchantress of Doriath which I have set about me.’ She was quiet for a while, collecting her thoughts.

‘We have only met but once before. Earlier in the evening. And yet I feel as if you press closely in against me . . . like and unlike my brother. For despite our differences, Tindomion is a comforting presence. But you . . . I have no experience, no words within which to capture you.’ She fell silent again, then touched his wrist lightly with her fingers.

Speak to me, Emlin . . . mind to mind, will you not? That I might hear your questions, your words, without the subtleties and defenses with which your lips might cloak them . . .

[Farael]

Losse was as good a dancer as she had said and Farael was not really a good match for her skills. He did not intend to dance for too long anyway. Just as soon as they jumped into the dancing area, Farael started making his way towards a little drunken hobbit who was dancing really merrily. The good man was barely half Farael's height which suited him well. Taking Losse along with him, he got close enough and in what seemed an accident, got tripped by the hobbit's foot and fell to the floor, pulling Losse down with him. There was a moment of confusion in which he made a minor change as he helped Losse up. Acting really embarassed he muttered something about maybe being a little too tipsy for such a good dancer and started making his way back to Teluyaviel, with his little prize secured in his fist.

It was not without surprise to find her talking to the same elf he had seen before. "Smart man you are, Farael..." he told himself "seeking your petty revenge you let Telu alone and... but no, she is an elf and he is an elf. You should not interfere." He sighed then, having completely forgotten Losse who was not too far behind and walked up to Teluyaviel "Excuse me, M'lady, I would not want to... interrupt you. I just wanted to give you back what belongs to you" with a bow and a smile he offered the hairpin she had given to Losse before. While helping her up, he had changed the expensive, well crafted hairpin fora simpler one he had borrowed from an unsuspecting hobbit. Forcing a smile to his lips, Farael bowed again "Now I shall leave you two alone if you wish, Teluyaviel. It was a mightly pleseant night in your company so far but I should not keep you away from your own people"

[Huan]

Her touch, light as it was, made him gasp. Emlin stifled his reaction, but could not avoid the next when her thoughts gently touched his. He was glad for the interruption as the man came near and spoke with Teluyaviel. It gave him time to order the sudden tangle his thoughts had got into.

Emlin waited as the man gifted her a pretty, jeweled hairpin, watching the interaction between the two. The man had a soldier’s bearing and Emlin wondered that he would withdraw so readily. ‘I am no warrior, yet I would not retreat given a prize as fair as she,’ he thought to himself. He nodded at the man as he made to go.

‘M’lady,’ Emlin said, offering her his hand as he stood. ‘Perhaps it would be better if we walked about and spoke. My thoughts have suddenly gone all topsy-turvy. I’d rather they not frighten you with their incoherency.’