The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Elora]

How to begin, Uien wondered as she gazed skywards at the emerging stars. She remembered a similar night, but this time he did not shrink away. Still, even as he had she had seen something else glimmer within, a hint of the spirit and man that shone beneath the recent years of toil and weariness. Blankets she had given him, and watched over his sleep from her vantage in the hayloft through the rest of the night. He had been bewildered then, and truth be told she too had wondered at what had moved her to cast aside years of wariness and safe reserve to approach him. The star she gazed at gleamed, a shifting dance of silver and Uien returned her gaze to the man she had named Lauréatan. The answer was written in his face.

"I do not think I could have guessed at what lay before us on that night, beneath this tree," she murmured softly. The corners of his eyes crinkled as Falowik smiled.

"Nor I, Fair One."

Did he guess now at what lay on the tip of her tongue? The words she would let free of her heart's hold? Uien gathered his hand in her own, cradling it's strength between her palms gently. A tremour ran through her.

"Are you cold," Falowik asked in concern. Uien smiled at his hand and shook her head. "I am not, yet," she replied mysteriously. The tremour was not one of chill, nor fear, though by no means could she foresee what would follow what she was about to say. She raised his hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles. Uien raised her eyes to Falowik's and set the truth free, sending it out into the twilight.

"Not yet, but winter will come, Lauréatan and I will feel it's cold breath. The years will pass, season upon season, and I will mark their passing now. They shall not sped by in a blur, too fast for me to catch, bleeding one into another. I shall paint them, I think, now that I will be able to hold their passing in my life.

"My love, do you know of what I speak of?"

Falowik was very still, studying her intently in the velvet shadows of the evening. He slowly shook his head from side to side.

"There once was a time when years meant nothing to me. Either I willed them to pass me by, longing only for oblivion, or their passing made no difference to me. For what matter the passage of time to those who are immortal?

"My road, wherever it may lie, will take me not into eternity, either here or across the Sea. It lies with you, as does my heart and my joy. Such have I chosen, and joyfully."

Uien fell into silence, though the truth of her joy could not be quietened. It was writ upon her and leapt within her own starlit gaze. Falowik's brow furrowed a little.

"Do you mean to say," he started. Did he dare not finish his question, or wish never to ask it?

"A mortal life is mine now, Lauréatan. The years shall pass, and I with them." Uien's heart was racing. She could hear its gallop threading faintly through her. Falowik's eyes drifted to the bole of the tree they stood by, in deep thought. Uien released his hand and freed him to the paths of his mind. She watched the breeze ruffle his hair and wondered if she had troubled him. Perhaps he did not wish to pass the years with her and fretted now at the spectre of being fettered. Uien let the moments pass her by and clasped her hands before her. What would be, would be. She could not undo what had happened, and never would she regret her choice. She'd make it again in a heartbeat. That certainty steeled through her.

"Glad tidings, Lauréatan, or so I believe them to be... Yet if they are not so for you, I ask one thing of you only. To say as much, to speak freely. Please Falowik, my love."

His eyes drifted back to her own, which were large in the darkness. The expression upon her face was of a vulnerable shyness, yet she did not appear ready to pull away. Uien remained where she was, open to Twilight and whatever words the man she loved so much that she had chosen mortality might have to say.

[Sirithheruwen]

Twylight was now in a state of depression. She did not feel well being horrible to anyone, and Marcho was no exception. She set her head in her hands, her half-empty cup of tea cold and forgotten in front of her. The man next to her had neither moved nor spoke.

The door to the Inn opened slowly, and a figure entered, but she was too busy wallowing in her own feelings to notice. The figure circled the Inn slowly, looking around at everyone sitting or standing, talking or silent. He came to a stop behind Twylight, and stood there for a moment, studying her carefully. With work-hardened fingers, he reached out to tap her shoulder...

Twylight felt the fingers on her shoulder, and she jumped so much that she fell off the stool she was sitting on. A deep booming laugh sounded behind her. She stood up hurridly and whirled on the man standing behind her, laughing. Her face changed rapidly from anger to delight. To the surprise of everyone watching, she reached out her arms and pulled him into a deep hug.

Long ago, this unlikely pair had grown up together. They had found that Twylight's muteness was no stumbling block whatsoever, and they had invented a language with their hands, just between the two of them. Twylight now made rapid motions with her long, slender fingers, which the strange followed with large hazel eyes. What are you doing here so early? You weren't supposed to be here until tomorrow! she signed. "Well," he boomed, "I figured I'd been away from you for far too long! It's nice to see you again, Twylight!"

She pulled him into another strong hug. It's nice to see you again too, Marin. she thought with a smile.

[Nurumaiel]

Posco smiled shyly when Lily consented, and then became worried again. It seemed to him he had just said another thing you only said if a hobbit lass was your sweetheart. Isn't that was lads did? Ask the lasses to go riding with them? But Lily didn't seem at all offended; in fact she seemed pleased. He blushed a little and, attempting to ignore his seemingly awkward request, said, "Perhaps we might go tomorrow morning?"

"That would be very good," she said, smiling at him. Another silence fell between them, and Posco began to fidget in his chair. His nostrils picked up the hearty smell of supper coming from the kitchen, but it had not yet been served, so there would be no distraction from there. He would have to think of something to say once again.

"Please, Miss... er, Lily," he said, stumbling over the fact that he need not give her the courteous title, "would you tell me a little more about yourself? Do you have any family?" He felt he should know this. If she did have a husband he should more careful that he didn't tell her how lovely she was, even if he did think so. She might be offended, and he would not offend her. "I mean, as in a husband and children?"

[littlemanpoet]

"A mortal life is mine now, Lauréatan. The years shall pass, and I with them." Uien's eyes captured the light of the stars; her spirit mingled with them and lent a living brightness to her eyes that took Falowik's breath away. But her words did so even more, and the effect of both together were more than he could hold inside, and he had to look away, to a bole of the tree they stood by. Uien released his hand. The moment she let him go, he felt cast adrift and unanchored, the world spinning at angles to how he stood.

She was choosing his life over her own!

She would not stop being an Elven woman, but she would never go across the sea. And if Eodwine had the rights of it, she had set aside the society of Elves for that of his, which was until now meager company indeed!

"Glad tidings, Lauréatan, or so I believe them to be... Yet if they are not so for you, I ask one thing of you only. To say as much, to speak freely. Please Falowik, my love."

How could he not speak his heart to her? How could he not look to her again? She was his lodestone - he wondered what the elvish was for such a word - her eyes were large and luminous. She seemed like a frightened bird, feeling the need to take wing to safety among the trees, but she remained, as if ready to die with his arrow in her breast.

He took her hands in his.

"It is as if you are the fairest bird in the forest, and all that is within you tells you to fly from the hunter, but you stay, ready to be shot. And I, who am the hunter, have two arrows. One is to say you nay, leaving you to wither and fade in sorrow; the other is to wound you with myself, with the death that is part of being a man, walking with you in joy until I die, leaving you someday, to wither and fade with grief."

Uien shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but Falowik put his hand to her soft lips, and she held her peace, her eyes watching his.

"I choose to give you all the joy I can, and so I must wound you with the arrow of my love."

[Arwen Eruantale]

She was ready to die. He was there. Not quite smiling, but she knew he was pleased. Was it pride that kept her from flying into his arms? Perhaps. He caught her eyes with his own as he approached. The closer he came, the deeper she sank.... Deep in the liquid warmth of his clear gaze. Here she was safe, as long as he was here, as long as he could breathe; his presence was her immortality.

Slowly, softly, everything became clear. Shame, loneliness, cold. How had she fallen asleep? How long? Her eyes flitted open upon the bustling inn. The lovely elven lady with whom she had been speaking was gone. She was alone again.

Niara shivered. At least she had no embarrassing faults that showed when she slumbered. She had merely leaned into the soft back of her seat and closed her eyes. Her hair had fallen all about her in chocolate ringlets, tinged with red that showed in the glow of the firelight. What a perfect mess she must look.
She gathered her hair up into the knot again, shivering as the air touched the back of her seemly neck, and lifted her hood. Shrouding herself with the shadows in which she had so long survived.

She wondered why he haunted her so. Feeling his love in every gesture, yet knowing not whether she could return it, nor whether she were worthy of such noble affections as his own.

She wondered what was for supper, but the sun was leaving, and the stars were calling... Just as they always had. She rose, heading toward the door, needing a walk, and fearing that she might be noticed before she reached it....

[Firefoot]

"Would you tell me a little more about yourself? Do you have any family? I mean, as in a husband and children?" asked Posco. The question caught Lily slightly off guard. Of all the things she might have expected to be asked, this was not one of them.

"Oh, no," said Lily. "I do not expect to be married for another several years yet. As for the rest of my family, I am the third child of six. I have lived in Bree for all of my life, where my father owned a shop. But when I was seven years old, there was a terrible thunderstorm. My father's shop was struck by lightning, and it burned to the ground." Here Lily faltered slightly, for she still could not abide rainstorms, but she kept going. "My parents, older brother and sister, and two younger sisters went to live in Archet, where my mother's family lived to start over. My brother, a year and a half younger than me, and I moved in with my Aunt Violet and Uncle Longo on the other side of Bree. You see, my older siblings were needed to help out my parents, and the youngest were two young. My aunt and uncle have been very much like second parents to me, and though I still see my real parents sometimes, I know my aunt and uncle much better. It was my uncle who taught me how to read and ride ponies. I got my pony from him four years ago." finished Lily.

"Now enough about me," she said. "What is your family like?"

[Nurumaiel]

"My family?" Posco held back a deep, frustrated sigh. He wanted to tell Lily all about his family but he did not know how without speaking very much. He hesitated, glanced towards her, saw the encouraging look in her lovely eyes, and felt confidence seeping into him. Firmly setting his tea aside, determined to no longer hide himself behind it, he began to speak.

"My family, the Bramdybucks, have lived in Buckland for as long as can be recalled," he said, and realized with the very first sentence that he had made a dreadful mistake. Lily might think that all the Brandybucks lived in Buckland, not just his immediate family. "I do mean my family," he said. She smiled, and he continued more feebly as he realized that most of the Brandybucks did in fact live in Buckland. "My father is called Posco, for I was named after him, and my mother was called Primrose Brownlock before she was married. There aren't very many of us in my family... there's Blanco, who you have not met but have seen, and myself. We are twins. Our elder sister is called Peony, but she didn't come. My father grows crops and raises cattle, and I suppose I'll do the same as him."

He said this without bitterness; he did not mind that he would follow in his father's footsteps, but it was rather a joy to him. He found no greater peace and contentment than what he found watering plants and watching them grow, and milking the cows and laughing in delight over their clumsy, adorable calfs, and even feeding the few chickens they owned. He glanced at Lily and a passing thought came to his mind, and he wondered if she would enjoy living on a farm.

"But my sister," he went on, "didn't want to stay home and help mother, because mother didn't really want help. She didn't mind the help, of course, but she had always preferred to do things without. So Peony went to the nearest tavern to work as a maid there." He hesitated. "She's having trouble with the family now," he said, "and that's why she isn't here." He wondered if he should continue and elaborate upon the trouble his sister was in, and had just concluded not to do so when he saw Lily's eyes again, full of encouragement and kindness. He firmly made up his mind to tell her all about the family trouble. "My sister, you see, has fallen deeply in love with a young hobbit lad who calls frequently at the tavern, and she wants to get married to him. I can't say if he's asked her or not, but if he hasn't yet he will any day. My father doesn't like the lad, though... Hal Brandybuck is his name. As I was saying, my father doesn't like Hal and thinks he's a drunkard, though I assure you Miss Lily, he is not. My father doesn't care much for... er... poetry as you might say, and Hal is so often speaking of sunsets and sunrises and Elves that my father concludes it's because he is constantly drunk.

"Of course my sister is heartbroken about it because she wants more than anything in the world to marry this Hal Brandybuck, but she doesn't want to go against our father's wishes. Mother doesn't approve merely because father doesn't approve, and both of us feel dreadfully for her. Originally my mother wanted to send all three of us to visit my aunt but decided to keep Peony a little longer so my father could speak to her without us interfering. Peony will be coming tomorrow, if all goes according to plans. You see, we have always interfered dreadfully with the conversations between Peony and my father when it strays to the subject of Hal Brandybuck, because if we let them alone my father would surely grow quite angry and then Peony would be made stubborn and she might go off and do something... er... rash. In short, she might go right on and marry Hal without a second thought."

He paused, stared at Lily in amazement, and dropped his eyes. It was frightening to think he had said so much, and he could hardly believe it. If truth must be told, Posco had ever been one to talk to himself when he was quite sure he was alone, and he spoke at great length without considering. At this moment he had completely forgotten Lily was there, so absorbed was he in the troubles of Peony, and he had believed he was quite alone and so speaking to himself. When he saw this was not so he felt as though he should be embarrassed and humiliated, but he realized with a pleasant thrill that he did not mind. In fact, he rather liked speaking so to Lily.

[Elora]

Uien's eyes widened at the last, Falowik's finger warm over her lips. She peered at him from behind it, face alight with a happiness that was incandescent and rivaled the Evening Star in its glory. Falowik's finger shifted, tracing over the line of her jaw to come to the base of her ear.

"No bird has known such joy," she whispered in return. Uien placed a hand over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath her palm. It matched her own. "No arrows, no wound is this, no life stolen.... nay, a grace and blessing you are Falowik Lauréatan. Such did I dare believe when first we met and so do I know now that we have returned to this place."

"Melindo..." she said softly, speaking the word at last as it had been spoken in her thoughts: Lover. Falowik repeated it after her and Uien smiled to hear it in his voice at last. Surely she could contain no more than what filled her now. The years would come and go, ice would melt and the summer grasses rise only to yellow and fall into ice once more. Leaves would turn golden, then red and then fall to leave branches bear only to spring small and tender green, again and again. But this would not change.

Uien had not thought to have glad tidings to tell of upon her return to her childhood home. But she looked now into the face of her future and her heart and knew that she had much indeed to speak of. No matter where her feet wandered, her heart and her home would remain with the man who had filled her life with his presence. She needed no other shelter bar that of his arms and to that she now went, tucking herself close. The wide world was before them both, but for now they had the stars. Uien's thoughts ran away into all the possiblilities the years would have for them until at last they ran away entirely, leaving her lost in Falowik and happily so. She did not have the gift of foresight, and if she had would she have still brought Falowik blankets on a chilly night?

Yes, for with him lay a future free of the dread shadow of her past, a chance to live as once she had before, full and free in life. But, more than that, quite simply Uien could sooner imagine life beneath the great weight of the ocean than she could life without Falowik. He had become part of each breath she took, each step she walked, each smile that found her her. For so long Uien had felt as though part of what was her own had vanished, lost in a dark den forgotten beneath a cruelly iced mountain.

"What is melindo," Falowik asked, his voice rumbling deep through her. Uien pulled back and tipped her face up to look into his.

"It is what you are, Lauréatan.... lover and beloved. In that shall we both find eternity." Upon those words, the two drew together beneath the early stars and met in a kiss.