The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

Janthor grabs his beard befor slapping his knee."Why not.Nothing better to do here.And I havnt sunk my axe into somethings chest in awile."

"Beriothen,of the Rangers.Ye have my axe in this matter." The Dwarf said grabing the weapon eagerly.Leaning on it he let out a laugh.

[Caunwaithon]

I laugh at the dwarf, holding onto my sides. I knew he would say yes, but I didn't think it would be in quite this manner.....

"Beriothen, how far out are these men? Do we have time to plan further?"

I finish off the rest of the cheese, and swig it all down with this fine hobbit ale. Not like the Lagers of my homeland, specifically, the Heffewiesen, but a good beer nonetheless.

I look at the dwarve, surrounded by empty beer. He looks as if a king, sitting upon his golden throne. I immediatley laugh at the image, and he looks at me quizzically.

"Aye, here be the king of the Brew, nanquishing the enemy with his throat! None shall pass!"

[Enedhilion]

I tell the two to lower their voices, as I peer out the window. The horde is passing through...Oh how I cannot stand the smell of orcs.

"Pause a moment...they are leaving!", I exclaim.

It seems that these orcs are on their way to another city. We should stay out of their way for the time being. Stay in the inn...If they were to attack here, they wouldn't see daybreak. There must be a number of warriors present who would stop the fiends.

The commotion has ceased, died down. I can relax once more.
The thought of orcs surfaces tension inside.

I became thirsty and had not realized. I ask the barkeep for another pint.
Yes...pints always wash the troubles away...

[Lasbelinion]

Callë had not really thought to stop at the Inn. She had plenty of food in her rucksack and a full skin of fresh water, too. But the sounds coming from what seemed a large party in the Inn’s front yard drew her down the path.

She stood in the night shadows of a small stand of beech trees, her pale blue eyes taking in the goings on. Tables groaned with platters of foods and desserts. And there by them were casks of ale and another table with pitchers of other drinks available. Callë put her hands on her belly which had suddenly began to tell her how hungry it was. And not for the dried meats and waybread she had in her pack.

She tied back her dark brown hair with a thin leather cord she pulled from a pocket in her tunic, smoothing the wild and wavy locks back so as to look presentable. She polished the toes of her boots a bit – rubbing them on the back of her dark leggings. Her tunic was clean enough; she’d put it on just that day. Callë stepped out into the soft light of the tree lanterns and made her way through the crowd.

The Halfling who poured the ale gave her a friendly look as she took up a mug. She wandered to the table of food and filled a plate with bread and cheeses and a ripe, red apple atop it.

‘Where can I sit?’ she wondered, her eyes searching for an empty chair and a friendly face. There at a table sat another young woman, a mug of ale in her hands. She had a friendly face and seemed to be enjoying herself, listening to the lively music.

Callë made her way to where the dark haired woman sat. ‘Pardon me, miss – may I sit with you? My name is Callë, and I don’t really know anyone here.’ The apple, which had been precariously perched on her plate, took a mind to make a leap for freedom. It landed on the table top and rolled quickly towards the other woman’s hand.

[Nurumaiel]

"I think," said Marcho, "that we should make our escape before we're seen."

Posco was spinning his empty mug of ale first in one direction, and then the other, and he looked shyly about. "You make it sound as if we were criminals, Marcho," he said. "The worst anything could do is talk to us."

"And don't you think that's rather awful?" said Marcho. "If someone comes and talks to us, it won't be me that suffers the most. I'll simply be annoyed. But you'll be quite frightened. I'm only thinking of you, Posco."

"I won't be frightened," said Posco, though his eyes widened in more than a little alarm as he once again surveyed the large crowd of people. "I'm not as shy as I once was."

"Then why don't we flee from these riots and go to Lily's home?"

Indeed, why didn't they? Would Lily really and truly be here? He liked to think she would, for it would be so much easier to have a chance meeting at the Inn, rather than an official calling at her home. But whenever he reflected on it for a lengthy amount of time, his heart would begin to sink, for he realised how absurd it was to hope that she would happen to be at the Inn simply because he was. No doubt he would return home disappointed, and Marcho would be annoyed for having to travel such a long way for no reason. Not that Marcho really and truly had to go, but Mrs. Brandybuck didn't like her shy little boy wandering to and fro about the Shire.

Posco sighed, and once again looked about him, but this time his eyes inclined upwards, and he could not help but smile softly as he saw the twinkling lights hanging in the trees, looking like falling stars that had been caught in their descent. Their light fell softly upon the grass, a golden dance floor for frolicking shadows. The place was certainly magical, and where magic was, wouldn't Lily be there also?

"I think... I think Lily will be here," he said. "I know she'd love it."

Marcho gave a little moan, and resigned himself to his unhappy fate.

[Dimturiel]

"Pardon me, miss, may I sit with you?"
Aniriel looked up at these words and found herself face to face with a young woman with dark brown hair and blue eyes carying a plate that was laden with food.

"My name is Calle,"the woman continued, "and I dont really know anyone here."

As she spoke, an apple slipped from her plate and landed into Aniriel's hand. With a smile, Aniriel handed it back to her new companion.

"Greetings, Calle." she said. "I am Aniriel and I, too, know no one in these parts of the world. My home lies away south in Dol Amroth. Do sit down. Ale and good food have to be shared with someone in order to be truly appreciated. Also, it does not do to sit alone while everybody else is making merry."

For the first time since she had reached the inn, Aniriel felt truly joyful. At least she was not alone anymore. At least she had someone to talk to, someone she could befriend easily. It was better than sitting alone and listening to the voice inside her saying that it would have been better not to come here, that she had been reckless. Maybe she had been, but it was too late now for repenting. Why not enjoy herself if she had come this far?

"So tell me," she said to Calle. "where do you come from and what brings you here?"

[JennyHallu]

"...a fair lady from Gondor who may or may not have been born in a noble family who is not afraid to travel to a far-off land is unique indeed."

Losse snorted, catching a little of his mirth. "Your friend did you no favors, teaching you that. Remind me to teach you the rules of it, ere I leave you, so you don't accidentally lose fingers...or worse. And as for my lineage?" She paused. "Well, whether you believe me or not, 'tis true, though I will admit my story would be far less interesting without it, and that would be a sorry thing, 'twould it not?"

She smiled suddenly, showing Farael a brief glimpse of the carefree, joyous, youth she ought to have been the whole time. "Truly, it matters not one way or the other. I have no way to prove it except for a pendant my mother left me, but I don't know if it is unique or not. And even if it is...well, I may have been taught fair manners, but what place would I have in the Court of the Prince? I am a thief. I have no memory of any of my mother's people, and my only memories of Belfalas are brief. My only visit to Dol Amroth in adulthood was necessarily fleeting, and I certainly wasn't going to look anyone up. You are an intelligent man, I'm sure you can understand my occasional need for haste, and silent passage."

She caught a glimpse of the young man's expression at this allusion to her profession and let ring an honest laugh. "Any mention of my profession makes you nervous, doesn't it? Don't worry...you're safe from me as long as you don't pull my hair again, and your elven friend is no fun anyway. Relax...tell me your own tale. It would please me to know how a countryman found his way out here."