The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Koobdooga]

Ibun gave Baldin a great grin. The tips of his mustache curved up until they nearly touched the corners of his eyes. And those same eyes glinted merrily at the thought of another strong arm to aid in the recovery of the Deeps.

‘Well, then,’ he said, reaching into the inner pocket of his vest. ‘This calls for something a bit stronger than Shire ale to celebrate!’ He pulled out a silvered flask, all worked with fine traceries, now much smoothed over with age. ‘A wee dram of Dwarven spirits is what I’m thinking.’

Ibun poured out a finger’s width each in clean mugs and passed one to Baldin.

May your ax be sharp
Your forge fire hot
And your beard grow long and thick as Durin’s!

. . . he spoke, raising his glass to his tablemate.

[Lasbelinion]

As Aniriel spoke, Callë watched the expressions on her face. She wondered what dire things had happened that drove the woman from her home to seek . . . what? Pleasure? A peaceful mind? Was she running to something or away? What could so fair a maid have endured that would set her on such a path? Perhaps when they knew one another better, Aniriel would tell her. Or perhaps not . . . there were some secrets best left locked away, or so she'd found.

The Shire was a pleasant place, she mused. One in which a burden might be laid aside. But the very pleasantness of it had its own dangers. The air here was sweet, and thick as honey, or so she had come to think of it. A traveler might find herself made to feel so safe and so drowsy that her feet might cease to travel on and years later that same wanderer might find themselves old and wrinkled and sitting in the Dragon holding the same mug as when first she’d entered through the oaken door. ‘One could fall outside of time here, somehow,’ she thought to herself. ‘Even a fair land such as this might prove perilous in its own way.’

Callë shook herself out of her musings and smiled at Aniriel. ‘I would not even begin to think that you might shame your family,’ she said, wanting the woman to understand she harbored no ill thoughts of her. ‘Whatever burdens you bear, I hope your traveling has eased them somehow.’

The little band had begun to play another lovely. Callë’s eyes lit up at the familiar words and the lively tune; her feet began to tap to it. ‘Oh! I know that song. We sing it in my country.’ She stood up and grinned at Aniriel. ‘Let’s go over to where the band is and dance a little. Leave any troubles we have sitting here in these chairs!’

She looked to where a number of people were stepping lively to the music. ‘In my country, only the married couples or the ones promised to each other dance together. We maidens dance with each other. Is that your custom, too?’ She looked again and saw a number of Halfling women dancing with other women or by themselves. ‘What do you say? Shall we join them?’

***

In the village of Kilgory, there's a maiden young and fair
Her eyes they shine like diamonds, she has long and golden hair
But the countryman comes riding, rides up to her father's gates
Riding on a milk-white stallion, he comes at the strike of eight.

Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Step it out, Mary, if you can
Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Show your legs to the countryman

Well, I have come to court your daughter, Mary of the golden hair
I have gold and I have silver, I have goods beyond compare
I will buy her silks and satin and a gold ring for her hand
I will buy for her a mansion, she'll have servants to command

Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Step it out, Mary, if you can
Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Show your legs to the countryman

I don't want your gold and silver, I don't want your house and land
I am going with a soldier, I have promised him my hand
But the father spoke up sharply: You will do as you are told,
You'll get married on the Sunday and you'll wear that ring of gold

Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Step it out, Mary, if you can
Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Show your legs to the countryman

In the village of Kilgory there's a deep stream flowing by
On her marriage day at midnight she drowned with her soldier boy
In the cottage there is music, you can hear her father say:
Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter, Sunday is your wedding day.

Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Step it out, Mary, if you can
Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Show your legs to the countryman

[Firefoot]

"How about you? What is it like here in this peaceful country? Have you been on any travels?"

“The Shire is a delightful country – rather quiet, perhaps, but very enjoyable,” answered Lily. “But I am not probably the best person to ask about it – I come from Bree, and I have only been here once before. Hobbits in Bree often say that the folk here are strange, but I have not found it to be so. They’re really just the same, though perhaps they are more secluded here. From what I have seen of it, the rest of the Shire is not nearly so… varied in company as here at the Green Dragon. I suppose that answers your other question as well, though Dwarves are well-traveled folk, it seems, and my own journeys – from Bree to here, and I have spent some time in Buckland – undoubtedly seem rather inextensive.” Here she drifted off, for she caught sight of Posco standing up from his table. She felt a moment of panic when it seemed he might be coming her way – where could she go? – and was relieved to see that he had turned towards the inn, then gone inside.

She realized the silence that had settled over the table and felt like kicking herself again. Gróin had turned to follow her gaze, and now looked back at her. “Did you see something?”

Lily shook her head. “Just someone I thought I knew.” Which was true. She had thought that she had known Posco, but apparently he had not been quite how he seemed – surely the Posco that she had known would never have betrayed her in such a way. It still seemed impossible. She noticed that she had fallen silent again, and she smiled weakly. This was not going well. “This place brings back many memories,” she explained rather vaguely. “Even if my travels are few, I do rather enjoy it. It creates for rather memorable experiences, don’t you think? Though perhaps it becomes less exciting when you travel a great deal...?”

[Dunwen]

The widow looked down at her empty plate with some surprise. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she’d started eating. Now, after a delicious helping of roat chicken, gravy and mashed potatoes, she was still hungry. ‘Hobbit-life must be rubbing off on me’, she thought, amused. However, the Shire was a fine place possible to pick up Hobbit-like habits, so she decided she would indeed return to the food tables. Avoiding a newly-arrived dwarf and passing by a giant of a man sitting with a younger man with hair like fire, she made her way once more to the food tables. Even though a large gathering of hobbits had been eating steadily for some time, the redoubtable Miz Bunce and her helpers were equal to the challenge. There was still plenty of food to choose from, including several desserts. Widow Rosebank decided the hobbits had the right idea when she saw several hobbits fill their plates with two or three (or four or five) desserts at once. She couldn’t equal their appetites, but she did choose a crisp apple and slices of tangy cheese, a piece of carrot cake and one of the spice cookies made in the Green Dragon’s kitchen earlier that very day. Sitting back down, she continued to watch the crowd as she polished off the tasty sweets.

Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Step it out, Mary, if you can
Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Show your legs to the countryman

It was a familiar old song, and a tune she’d never been able to resist. In her youth, she'd been a fixture at any party in Bree with dancing and music, and her feet hadn't lost their urge to step and twirl to the jolly sound of a fiddle and pipe. She watched two young women, clearly strangers to Shire, get up to join the crowd of hobbit lasses dancing with the band. 'Seems like a good idea,' she thought, grinning in a most un-middle-aged way. Widow Rosebank tipped back her mug and finished off the last of her ale, then hastened to join the other dancing girls and women.

[Dimturiel]

"Whatever burdens you bear, I hope your travelling has eased them somehow."

Aniriel smiled. Hearing words of comfort was something that seemed to belong to the past, to another life, a life in which she was still Aniriel of Dol Amroth. But it brought her solace to hear the strange girl speak such words to her, even if she knew not all of her secrets. If something good had happened in all of her journey, then that was meeting Calle.

As for her burdens, Aniriel thought, they would ease as time passes. Time diminishes almost everything, good and ill alike. Few, if any, are the things that can escape its deadly breath. Her cares would surely not make any exception.

The band had begun to sing another song, one that was unfamiliar to Aniriel. She noticed Calle was filled with delight at the sound of the tune. She clearly knew and loved the song. With a feeling of amusement mingled with excitement, Aniriel let her friend lead her into the dance. Many other girls had joyned in by then. And also, Aniriel noticed, a woman now no longer very young had come to dance, too. The song must have been very well-known and loved, then. The tune was lovely, and it lifted Aniriel's spirits. What would she gain by being gloomy? She was young, and hope must never leave young and merry hearts.

When the song ended, Aniriel clapped with the rest.

"Well," she said to Calle,"this was different from anything that I have heard at home. Very lovely tune! Although the words were rather cheerless."

[Glirdan]

“This place brings back many memories,” she explained rather vaguely. “Even if my travels are few, I do rather enjoy it. It creates for rather memorable experiences, don’t you think? Though perhaps it becomes less exciting when you travel a great deal...?” He allowed her to stare off into scilence as he thought back to the many travels he had when he was younger. They were all memorable in some way or another, yet none of them greatly stuck out.

He stared around in scilence at the crowd, remembering his travel on the way here. Ever since the King had taken over, the roads have been clear of any peril. Yet Gróin still wished to have some sort of thrilling adventure. Something exciting and daring. But he knew that chance wasn't going to happen any time soon. For now, he was just a traveller, journeying to the home of his kin. He suddenly remembered his manners and turned to Lily. He noticed she was still silent, staring intently at the Inn. "Lily? Is there something wrong?"

[Lasbelinion]

‘I suppose they are cheerless, in a way,’ said Callë. ‘Though, and I know it’s quite silly, but I admire the spirit the girl Mary showed. She obviously comes from a family where the father wants to better his name by tying it to the rich man’s. And he’s the sort who’ll not take his daughter’s opinions into consideration.’

She nodded her head, thinking on some of the girls she’d known in her childhood. Some of them she had envied for their nicer clothes and such, but the envy had come to an end when they were auctioned (for want of a better word) off by their fathers.

‘Mary couldn’t have escaped him alive,’ she said. ‘Not even her soldier could have protected her. Fathers, at least where I come from, have certain rights they can exercise over their children. Nay, she couldn’t escape him in life, so she did so in death.’

‘Not a way I’d have chosen, or at least I’d like to think so, but then I’ve never been driven to that extreme, have I?’

Callë turned, intending to lead the way to the drinks table. She was thirsty after the dance and thought a cup of cool cider would taste good. For a moment, she turned back to say something to Aniriel and bumped into someone in her path. It was an older woman . . . one she had seen dancing to the last song, she thought.

‘Begging your pardon, m’am!’ she said, reaching out to steady the woman with her hand. ‘I should know better than to walk one direction and look the opposite!’ Callë look properly chagrined at the outcome of her actions. ‘We’re off to fetch some cider,’ she went on. ‘Thirsty work, this dancing. Would you like some, too?’