The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[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.

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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.

[Undómë]

There was a strain of silliness that themed this night, or so it seemed to Telu. ‘I am drunk,’ she said aloud, trying out the title on her tongue. ‘Drunk!’ She laughed, a silvery sound as if there were a myriad of little bells all tinkling sweetly in a gentle breeze. ‘And then again, I am drunk . . . my reason consumed by the ale, by the music, by the stars set in the sky above . . . and by you, I think, my dear Farael.’

She grasped him by the hand, nodding her acceptance to his question. ‘Come Master Reddie, Mistress Naria. Won’t you join us?’ She smiled at the both of them, daring them to rise and follow along.

Tindo made his way slowly along the edge of the crowd. She and Farael made their way to the little dancing area, following along the edges of the crowd far opposite her brother.

The band was playing a lively tune. They watched the other couples and the steps seemed simple enough. Those dancing near them bade them come into the ring. With each passing refrain of the melody, it seemed their feet grew accustomed to the pattern of dance.

‘We seem to be doing quite well,’ Telu said, as she hiked her skirts to her knees, like the Halflings were doing, and curtsied to him. He bowed and they passed each other on the right side, going round each other’s back and returning to where they first stood. They then linked arms and promenaded forward and back. Over and again the patterns repeated themselves.

There was another quick stepping dance that followed close on the heels of this first one. And it was Telu, this time, who asked him for the dance.

‘Kind sir,’ she said, grinning impishly at him as she made a little curtsy. ‘Will you chance another stepped on toe or two?’

[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...

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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.

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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.