The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[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.

[Kath]

It had shocked Astilwen to learn that the woman in front of her didn't even remember her own name she had been running from her past for so long. The death of a loved one was thankfully something she had never had to endure, but she had been around those who had, and knew the pain and grief that went with it.

It seemed though that this snake had destroyed not only the life of one sister, but also of Tilionwen herself, and very likely that of her father as well. For years the poor man must have thought that both of his daughters were dead. She wondered whether the woman had thought about it like that, which was better - to believe both daughters were dead or to know one was alive? Still, it was not her place to say anything.

She understood now why Tilionwen had been staring so intently at the Moon, and why she was so sad. She had suffered so much, and Astilwen couldn't yet work out whether she blamed herself for her sister's death, or whether she believed some other force had sent the rain that forced them to stay outside, and the snake that had delivered the deadly blow.

Gently smiling back at Tilionwen's comment Astliwen noted the sudden silence that had fallen, and realised the woman was giving her a chance to ask any questions she might still have. She didn't want to interfere, and she really didn't want to offend, but she had to ask.

"Don't you think your father would wish to know you're alive? He's lost so much already, knowing you were alive might help him. And . . . you do know that you're not to blame, don't you?"

[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.’

[Tevildo]

Tevildo was doing a nightime perambulation of his regular haunts in Bywater and Hobbiton. He'd already been down to Bag-end and paid his respects to the tiger colored feline who was the boss of the place responsible for keeping Samwise and his brood in line. Then he'd stopped off at the Proudfoots' orchard to check out a nest of mice. They had apparently been told of his approach and had managed to hide inside a hollow log whose opening was too narrow for him to do anything more than reach in with a single paw and blindly grope about with his claws, coming away without a single prize.

He was feeling rather grumpy and wanted to do some mischief. He'd picked up a cold somewhere during the day that made his nose run and his eyes water. He liked playing tricks on the stupid two-leggeds and was searching for a place where he could make a grand entrance. As he padded down the road that led from Hobbiton to Bywater, he noticed that several hobbits were heading towards the Green Dragon, talking excitedly about a party that was happening there. As he rounded the curve in the road, the sound of music and of two-leggeds talking quickly assailed his ear.

How wonderful! Tevildo loved a party. Perhaps he could snatch a bit to eat. Cook made the finest fish fry in all of the Shire. Or, better yet, he could cause a spot of trouble and get everyone to look at him. Slinking in to the party grounds, he could see an assortment of hobbits, elves, and men: some dancing, others eating, many talking with each other. A few hobbits were laughing over some private joke, but many of the other partygoers seemed extremely solemn, engaged in weighty conversations.

First, he sidled up to one of the large tables and caught a lovely odor coming from a steaming bowl. He managed to stick his nose inside a goodly pot of Cook's chicken stew and was thoroughly enjoying himself when a rude person came along and chased him away.

I'll show them!

Tevildo's purr had disappeared, and, in its place was a threatening growl. He eyed the main table where the desserts were sitting. That looked like a good target, but it might be risky. A large Elf with a grim face was standing at one end. Then he saw a smaller table where several female figures stood close by. There was a fine white tablecloth and on top of that a large bowl of punch and a smaller one of nuts. How perfect! All he had to do was get his claws into the tablecloth and the whole thing should come tipping over, punchbowl and all, perhaps splashing skirts that the two-leggeds were wearing.

With a single bound, Tevildo leapt. He landed half on and half off the table, his body hanging over the side and his tail lashing menacingly back and forth. The weight of his body--he was definitely a fat cat--dragged on the cloth. Slowly, the contents of the table inched over to the edge until Tevildo and the cloth went hurtling into the air and the brightly colored punch sprayed in all directions.