The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[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?’

[Firefoot]

"Lily? Is there something wrong?" Lily dragged her gaze back to Gróin, struggling to form an answer to this question.

“No – yes – well, sort of.” She sighed. “The trouble is that I do not know precisely what is going on.” She paused, wondering whether she should go on. Gróin looked concerned, curious, perhaps. “I will tell you the story briefly, for it is rather complicated and I do not know how much of it truly matters now.

“The last time I came to the Green Dragon, I met a rather shy hobbit lad from Buckland. In short, we fell in love – at least, I thought he did, and that is the mystery which I have set out to solve. But I am getting ahead of myself. We met here, but we both soon had to return to our homes. We rode together for a time, and I stayed at his home for a few days before heading on to Bree.” She fell quiet for a moment. “There was a lad in Bree – his name is Tommy - who had asked my uncle’s permission to court me while I was away, and my uncle gladly agreed. I live with my aunt and uncle, you see. I had known this by a letter, and the lad I met here, he wanted me to go through with it – he wanted me to make sure I was making the right choice. So I did, but it was not the same. I have since tried writing back to the Shire, but only a few days ago I realized that my uncle was not actually sending my letters. Apparently, he has been wanting me to marry Tommy more than I had realized. I confronted him, but have not spoken to him since. With only my aunt’s knowledge, I left Bree and rode to Buckland… but I found that he was not there. No… the lad who said he loved me… I heard that he had come here. And I heard that he came here to find his bride – not me, obviously, since why should I be here? But I knew nothing of it.” She broke off, finding no more words to describe her feelings. She felt that if she went on any longer, her calm facade, already slipping, would slide away completely.

“But… would it not be better to talk to him, find out the truth?” inquired Gróin.

“No! No, he must not know that I am here,” said Lily fiercely. “If he truly has come looking for another girl, then I will leave and go back to Tommy. But I will not beg him. And I do not want to hear his explanations.” Her voice trailed to a whisper. “Not yet. I can’t handle it yet.”

[Kath]

The sad eyes that Tilionwen turned on her after her question made Astilwen wish she hadn't said anything. She could see the fear in the other woman's eyes, and was about to try and take her words back when an answer came.

"I intend to leave as soon as may be. Tomorrow morning, actually."

She thought perhaps it was meant in a reassuring way, to let Astilwen know her advice had been heeded, but the hobbit couldn't help but feel upset at the knowledge this new found friend would be leaving in a few short hours. She knew it was selfish, and knew that even if she were able to make the choice as to whether Tilionwen stayed or went she would still encourage her to go, but she couldn't help but think that she would miss this woman. It seemed that her reaction had been noticed, as Tilionwen spoke again.

"But I still have a few hours, will you help me make the most of them?"

Astilwen smiled then and nodded.

"Of course! What do you wish to do with the time you have left? We could join the others and dance, or find something to eat?"

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

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Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Meri - Stablemaster

Tim Woodlock - Stableboy; Wren - his younger sister: humans, originally from Breeland (characters played by Folwren)

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

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Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

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About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

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EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

TIME OF DAY

It is now a fair night in the Shire; the stars are out.

There is a large party in the Inn's front yard - tables are loaded with food, desserts, drinks. Several barrels of ale have been tapped, compliments of one of the Hobbit brewmasters.

There are tables and benches scattered over the front lawn. Twinkling little lanterns hang from the trees. To one side of the verandah there is a little stage set up for the musicians and a large area cleared for dancing.

[Wiscott]

Accepting the offered drink with a grin as broad as Ibun's, Baldin drinks with relish. "Ah, that's the stuff to close a deal! And now, with your leave, I shall be getting to the beds inside. Have to rest up for the coming journey!" With that, Baldin departs to search for a bed inside, whistling merrily as he goes, content with the productivity of his day.

[Firefoot]

Lily could not help but feel sympathy for Gróin, who had gone through so much moving around and hardship. He had said his tale was not so full of woe, yet it really was. She had listened intently, and had done well with her vow, right up until the end. Such similarities… “Lily? Are you sure you’re okay?”

Slightly exasperated, Lily said, “My goodness, yes. Or if I am not, there is nothing that can be done about it right now except hope to forget about my problems until something can be done.” She laughed slightly to take off any edge there might be to her words. “And you, Gróin, might do well to forget that there are problems at all. I think that you worry too much, though perhaps this is a habit you have gotten through long years of hardship. The night is fair and there is a party here. Enjoy yourself for once.” But the words sounded hollow even to her. Good advice, maybe, to herself as much as to him, but rather futile. After all, Posco was still here but inside, and Marcho sat alone across the lawn. Her gaze wandered over to the band playing a lively tune. A bit of dancing, perhaps? Would that lighten the mood? So risky, though – it would not do for Marcho to see her. And her heart would not be in it, either.

She sighed. “It doesn’t really work that way, does it? For I am a worrier, too, and forgetting does not come easily. What I really need is someone with information… but someone who will not inform him that I am here. His traveling companion – or perhaps guardian – Marcho is sitting over there, but I believe that he would let promptly let him know I was here.” Lily realized that she had not yet told Gróin Posco’s name, and found that maybe it would be easier to keep it that way. “And at this rate I will never find what I seek, because for it to work out I need help to fall into my lap.” And as much as she did not want to, she knew that in some strange way she was asking Gróin for help he could not really give. She did not see how he could help her at all, in fact, and she hated dragging him into her problems when he had enough of his own.

She was tired of this whole thing. She only needed to know one small thing, and then she could go home. But she already knew, didn't she? "Listen to me prattle on - all this worry to find out something that I have already found out. If what I have heard is true, then I have no business here. Perhaps I should not have come."

[Witch_Queen]

The door opened from the party outside. Avalon flew in the back door. She had traveled all the way from Rohan and now she was back in The Shire. Avalon had been alone since Cree's depature. She had flew around Middle Earth searching for any sign of Cree. Her search unfortunately was coming to a dead end. She saw new faces and heard new voices, indeed she had been gone for a long time. Avalon spread her large white wings allowing her to land softly on the end of the bar. As she landed a few "unknown" people tried to shoo her away. "Crows don't belong inside the inn." "Begone you animal." Avalon knew times had changed, but this was still her home.

Cree had left Avalon here to help in any way she could. Avalon remembered helping hang objects from the ceiling when a festival or party was going on. Now she was back to fullfill her end of the "abandonment." Avalon heard voices outside, laughter and music. A party... Indeed I arrived later than intended. Avalon flew back outside to see she was right. Everything was beautiful. Yes she saw faces she didn't know but there was the few that she recognized with ease. She flew over the party to see if she might find a very familar face... But there was no sign of Cree. Avalon flew to an empty seat to rest her wings. Before she could even get settled down someone almost sat down on her. Avalon screeched a warning. This was her seat for the moment. Her warning was a friendly one but still she knew she probably scared someone.

[Lhunardawen]

"Of course! What do you wish to do with the time you have left? We could join the others and dance, or find something to eat?"

Astilwen's infectious cheery disposition once again drew Tilionwen in, allowing her to cast aside the sadness brought about by her decision to leave the next day. Somehow she was able to tell that the hobbit was torn inside - wanting her to stay yet knowing she should go - and she promised herself to make this a night to remember for both of them. The friendship they have so readily formed in such a short span of time only deserved it.

"I'm not sure if I still know how to dance," Tilionwen replied with a sheepish grin, "but it sounds like a fantastic idea! However my stomach grumbles at the moment and is demanding to be fed. It's been a long time..."

The hobbit did not even let her finish speaking when she grabbed both her hands into her tiny ones and pulled her towards the tables. Tilionwen gave in with a laugh and soon fell in step with Astilwen. She still could not keep the faint melancholy as deep inside as she wanted, but she was determined not to allow it to ruin their night.

[Glirdan]

Gróin sat in stunned scilence as Lily spilled her story to him, even if it wasn't the full version. As she continued, Gróin's heart was moved to pity for the young lass. Falling in love and being forced to marry someone else. It was an all too common story in his family. In fact, that was exactly why Gróin was travelling to the Blue Mountains: to meet his bride to be...

It was then he realised that she had finished her story and she was gazing off into space, lost in trance of woe and sorrow. "But… would it not be better to talk to him, find out the truth?" he asked her silently, knowing not what to say to comfort her.

"No! No, he must not know that I am here. If he truly has come looking for another girl, then I will leave and go back to Tommy. But I will not beg him. And I do not want to hear his explanations. Not yet. I can’t handle it yet.”

He looked at her in pity, and, even though he didn't know just how complicated it was for her, he had the sudden urge to pour out his soul to her. The odd thing about Gróin was that he wasn't exactly like the rest of his kin. Actually, like the rest of his race. He was always a timid Dwarf, from the moment he could speak whereas the rest of his kin and race were quicker to anger. Whenever he heard a sad tale, like the one that Lily just told him, he was moved to pity, not scorn. "Perhaps this is why I'm forced to leave my home..."Gróin thought to himself outloud. He looked up and noticed Lily was staring at him strangely. "I'm sorry Lily. I didn't mean to say that out loud. You have enough troubles of your own. I don't want to burden you with my problems."

[Farael]

" It would please me to know how a countryman found his way out here."

"Well Losse, your 'profession' does make me feel a little uncomfortable, specially because it's because of thieves that I find myself in this inn." Answered Farael, "My father is a merchant and I decided to join him after serving some time in the army. I wanted to travel yet my father made sure I was kept out of harm's way. Him and I arranged that I'd join the family business if I was allowed to travel to distant lands. He was trying to get some pipe weed from the hobbits' lands and so I came here to see if I could get a good deal. Some other merchants sent people this way and so we were a little group of men carrying two carts with some goods and a good deal of money. At one point I saw tracks that looked orkish to me and I decided to follow them. They lead me nowhere, but by the time I joined up with my group they had been assaulted by bandits. Not orcs, but humans. The others went back, I pressed forward hoping to find the thieves yet after a week of searching around I decided I had lost their track and came here for a break. Not a really exciting story, but that's why I'm here"

He felt more than 'a little' uncomfortable about Losse. He had always thought thieves were evil, wretched people that had no friends other than their illgained goods and gold. Yet this thief was both friendly and more than just a little charming. "I'm getting hungry again," said he "how about we grab some more food? I have never had such a great meal as today!"

[Nogrod]

Now this was a cracker! Rían had learned to act, to wear many faces, during his life. That skill also included being able to read others’ play, behind their masquarades, when they were playing. But this giant here! He seemed to be as confused as he sounded. Could it be possible, that he had no idea about the other side of his father? No, it just didn’t seem to make any sense. But still, there was not a sign of a cunning liar making his moves. This man was a mystery. Rían remembered the stories of that famous Gollum-creature, and his ordeals.

Well, he had to make his move now. Any move. Grimhorn was staring at him, questioningly. Rían took a long puff from his pipe and leaned forwards, like wishing to address his words to Grimhorn only. The giant saw the idea, and leaned himself a little forwards too.

“It would bee foolish indeed to call a man of your proportions a fool, but I do have to ask, whether you have been raised in a barrel or something? You say you are a beorning, and you surely look like one. But still you kind of let me understand, that you have never heard the stories about the “Owl’s eye”! Or, if you are the son of Grimgor indeed, that you have never been able to see these two as one person. Well, be as it is. My father may have been mistaken – which he rarely was, but anyhow. The “One that runs at dusk” burned my home when I was five years old. We had to run for our lives, my father and me. We ran the whole night. I remember it, even though I was just a kid back then. I’ve had recurring nightmares about it ever so often: burning fire, the shouts, the running, branches hitting the face, slipping into the mud, actually an owl singing in the night, the sounds of the forest at night... And I remember his grin, that I truly remember, even though I saw it only from a distance.”

Rían was about to continue his remembrances, but Ruby interrupted his train of thought, bringing them the pints Grimhorn had ordered. Rían nodded to Ruby, receiving his pint, and waited for Grimhorn to pay for them.

[JennyHallu]

"I'm getting hungry again," said he "how about we grab some more food? I have never had such a great meal as today!"

Losse laughed, gray eyes catching firelight as she tossed her long locks, once again adorned with her new pretty. "Any meal I didn't cook is a great meal, Farael," she said with a chuckle. "I am sorry to hear of your bad fortune, though I am thankful that neither you nor your companions were injured. I suppose I understand your nervousness about me a little better now. I am a very good thief, no doubt about that, not even vanity." She walked toward the table where she'd left her stew. Forgotten, it still sat there on the table. She leaned toward it and sniffed. Still good...but definitely cold. She left it there and grabbed a trencher on one of the tables in the center, heaping it with bits of this and that. She cheerfully fought with a hobbit for the spoon to a large dish of mushrooms and won, adding a large helping to her plate before surrendering it back. Farael cheerfully trailed in her wake, grabbing a platter of his own as he watched her dance through the crowd with eyes alight.

Losse was charming, and she knew it. Her voice was sweet and musical, her eyes laughed only slightly more often than she did -- and her laughter was certainly ringing out over the party tonight. She had almost forgotten the lightness of her purse by the time she sat down, laughing merrily with sheer joy. She kept the conversation light, putting her best foot forward in an effort to show Farael her intent was to gain a friend, talking as she ate, and punctuating her speech with clever sleight-of-hand, her nimble fingers keeping both Farael and anyone who happened to catch a sight of her antics with her coins and bits of fruit.

"Really, I've never stolen a copper from anyone who couldn't afford the loss, I swear it's true." She'd switched from ale to a light and sweet dandelion wine, the yellow liquid sparkling in its glass.

Farael looked at her doubtfully. "I thought you said you earned a living as a thief."

She grinned. "Well, thievery's my career, and it's fun. But I couldn't live with myself if someone suffered too much for my fun. So I've always had something to fall back on. My last winter I spent in a tiny inn in Minas Tirith, really just a tavern. I sang for my supper in the common room, and danced for my board on a street-corner. It's only been in summer that I've really depended on thievery for a while now. Easier to forgive myself for a bad haul when I don't have to sleep in the snow." Her eyes turned serious for a moment, and she decided, helped along by the admittedly mild wine (Why did I get wine? I know I talk too much when I drink wine...) to tell the rest of her story.

"I picked the wrong man to start my season off with. That's when I decided that I'd be better off far from home and hearth. Not that I've spent all that much time having a home and hearth, so it's no great loss!"

[Thinlómien]

Grimhorn payed the pints cursing by himself. The boy must have sensed that I had become so sure about myself! he thought. The time of the peace offer had floated by, and it couldn't be helped.

Grimhorn knew that his father's friends had jokingly called him the "Owl's eye" and "the one that runs at dusk" after a very old country legend of a madman warrior with unchallengable strength. Nonsense folklore, he thought, that's what it is. Still, he couldn't help wondering if the nicknames came from a reason.

And this hermit Sundry! He had believed himself a seer of somekind and most people had thought him mad. Now Grimhorn wondered if he had "seen" old Grimgor Bearhand to be an incarnation or something of "the one that runs at dusk". And taught that nonsense to his son.

Anyway, Rían Sundry was the case now. "I think we're speaking about different "Owl's Eye"s. That was quite common knowledge that the friends of Grimgor Bearhand called him the "Owl's Eye" and "The One That Runs at Dusk". Those names, as you must know, belong to a madman of an old silly legend. So who are you talking about? A mythological warrior madman or Grimgor Bearhand, an honoured warrior? Or are you trying to tell me that they are the same thing?"

Well, you have to rest somewhere, and it may as well be here.
May as might...but I don't like stopping. 'Specially on a night like this. Lovely.
Not when you're this hungry, it isn't. Anyway, there's no need for you to be travelling in the dark. Not like you're running anywhere.
That isn't funny.
I thought so.
Aaaaah...talking to myself...! Stoppit!
An'...? It bothers you this time?
Maybe...no, I guess not.
Not aloud, why should you care? Meanwhile, you're blocking the door.

It was true. Peri was blocking the door, and probably unwisely considering the number of people present likely to need to walk through it at least once that night. If somebody were to shout "fire" just now...think how I'd be trampled! An odd thought, it made her laugh aloud.

Brilliant, that.
M'beginning to think I've heard enough from you tonight.

The first result of Peri's outburst was that almost no one noticed it. Logical, seeing as the inn was full of happy, laughing, talking, dancing people mostly minding their own business. The second result was that her unhealthily pale skin blushed somewhat pinkish, anyway. She could feel it starting at the base of her spine, a rush of hot blood that made the bright room in front of her spin crazily. She stepped carefully sideways through the door, keeping a shoulder against the wall. Deep breaths slowly returned her natural pallor.

Shame...you're lovely when you're terror-stricken.
Oh, well, I'll have to make a point of trying it more often.
W'll don't bother now. Not much at all you can do to to look any better tonight.
Wait...was there a joke in there somewhere?
You look like you've been travelling days through fields and ditches.
Ye-es... Ashamed to be seen with me, now?
Guess not. Should I be?

Peri sank to the floor, gathering the muddied edge of her long...blue? grey? The dress was worn 'til the color was hard to determine, ragged at the hem that just touched the top of her boots. Well, and ragged fairly everywhere else, too. But she was mostly looking at the hem. Resting her head on her knees, she practiced looking like a part of the wall.
Yes...yes, you probably should be ashamed.
H'shhh...just rest. And maybe you can fall asleep a while before anyone notices you. H'shhhhh...

Dreamless dark took her instantly.