The Vineyard Tavern

[Imladris]

Ærosylle smiled at the other boy's exuberant bow and courtseyed in return. But she mustn't ignore the plate, lest he think her rude.

"It is good to be on the plate's good side," Ærosylle whispered. "Or else it will throw your food at your face and it will connive with the glass to make it miss your lips, thereby making your drink dribble down your chin." She nodded at him.

The boy nodded and asked, "What is your name?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, then flashed a smile and said, "Ærosylle." She bowed her head and waited for him to reply.

"Andhun, at your service."

"I do not need any service," said Ærosylle, lifting her eyebrows. "But thank you for offering it."

The poor boy....he was bruised and battered, and he had the look of a puppy lingering about his eyes. She had seen him almost cringed when Finian had patted him on the head -- as if he had expected a cuff. The poor boy, she thought, shaking her head and heaving a sigh. If there was one thing that she did not need was his service. He seemed to have had a lot of that beat out of him.

She licked her lips and said, "Let me give you a few tips. Do not ever drum your fingers on the table for it annoys him. Don't step on the first step of the stairs for it screams in agony. I believe it is quite the wimp for the others have no qualms with human weight. Would you like more cider?"

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

When the ugly man left Grimm had stopped his barking, but his teeth still showed until the door had fully closed behind him. Then the black dog sauntered over to his Mistress, who looked rightly distressed and embarrassed. The swarthy skin of her cheeks had blushed crimson at her companion's behaviour, but Grimm had no regrets in his actions. When he had made it to the lady, she put her hands on her hips, tapping her toe in disapproval. "Was that really necessary, Grimm?" Though she knew no answer would come, the young, dark lady asked the dog weakly before crouching down to his level and breaking into a smile. She pat him reverently on the head and behind the ebony ears, for though her embarrassment rang true her pride in her animal companion could not be hidden behind blushed cheeks.

"Now, I have much more important questions to ask," Kellan relayed to Grimm, her smile fading as she stood up once more and looked about the common room. She searched valiantly for the Innkeeper, for it was his permission she required in a matter that involved why she had even come to the Vineyard Tavern. She saw the man, whom she had heard being called Finian, serving a short and stout man of the Dwarven kind.

"I suppose I should wait...no need to be rude and interrupt," the woman sighed as she came to her conclusion. "Besides, we have all day. Nightfall is not for several hours, and even then the best view is not until deep hours of the night arrive."

Kellan sat back down in her former seat, waiting patiently for the Innkeeper Finian to finish his service to the Dwarf.

[Nurumaiel]

"I should very much like more cider," said Andhun, "if it is no trouble, Miss Ærosylle." He turned his eyes to Rochadan, who had thus far been smiling at the interaction between the boy and Ærosylle, and said, "Sir, it is very kind of you to say I need not pay money, but do not feel obligated to do it."

"Come, come," said Rochadan, smiling kindly down at him. "When your little friend brought the money you did not push away his kind deed but accepted it with many thanks. If the Tavern offers you a kind deed will you deny us the pleasure?"

Andhun smiled. "Thank you very much, sir," he said, and turning to Ærosylle once again, "and thank you, Miss Ærosylle, for your words. I shall take much care not to step on the first stair."

"But Andhun," said Cynan, from where he had been chuckling over the way the young lady talked to Grimm, "you cannot possibly get up the stairs without walking on them all, can you?"

Andhun looked distressed. "It is true, Miss Ærosylle," he said. "I could not possibly jump the first step. I still do not want to hurt it, however, and so I will refrain from going up the stairs at all."

"No, no," said Rochadan. "You will ask me to help you."

The young boy brightened. "Thank you, sir," he said. He smiled first at Rochadan, then at Ærosylle, and then at Cynan. Cynan was still attempting to get the attention of Grimm's mistress. Andhun sank with a contented sigh back into his chair, not even noticing how it stung sore back. Things were becoming so lovely now. He had only to find his sister.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

What a funny little boy...Grimm thought, though happy to please his mistress. She was so preoccupied with getting the Innkeeper's attention that she missed the friendly, gesturing greetings of the boy. He is more playful than my lady! Grimm wagged his tail and smiled, in his own toothy way at the boy, who spoke to another lady and man for a moment. Grimm looked up at Kellan, who had propped her elbows upon her table and put her head in her hands. But she is weary. Humans get this way sometimes, when they travel for long days without rest. Not like my kin. She will be herself if she does not watch the sky tonight, as she wishes, and sleeps instead.

Grimm watched the boy come nearer to him, and the big black dog rolled over onto his back, wagging his tail and nodding his head. His tail thumped against his Mistress' leg, and she looked down at her dog and then to the boy. She smiled weakly, not sure of his intentions. She knew he was but a boy, but Kellan had learned many, many times that people were not always what they seemed, and she had made many costly mistakes in learning the lesson. The boy came forward slowly, looking tentatively up at Kellan before crouching low to rub Grimm's stomach.

"What is your name?" Kellan asked bluntly with a smile upon her face, but she spoke in a soft tone that only she, the boy, and the dog could hear. "I am sure that Grimm would like to know it."

[Bêthberry]

Once the initial unpleasantness of dealing with Harstan was over, Bethberry relaxed a bit, wanting the boy Andhun to begin to feel at home here at the Vineyard. He had a staunch and playful ally in Cynan, who would lead the lad through some reckless but not undeserved tricks no doubt, and a proud defender in Rochadan. Let them talk some more, she decided, before she would attend to the boy's hurts.

Thus, the Healer sought out Finian,

"You are in agreeement with Rochadan, that the boy should stay here and that we should do our all to ensure he remains out of Harstan's clutches?"

'Indeed, of course. How could I think otherwise?" the young Innkeeper replied indignantly.

"To be sure, we must all be of accord here, for I have misgivings about this cruel Master. I think he will be vengeful if he thinks we have out witted him or cheated him. He will not hesitate to cause us problems."

'Yes."

"Remember that the masters wield power and influence here; it is their efforts which are being praised for the rapid rebuilding of the town and not that of citizens who work here nor of the people who ply their trade."

Finain scowled impatiently at the woman.

"What room can I put Andhun in? The small one across the hall from mine, the one which was first a linen closet before we realised its warmth could make a good bedroom? You will foegoe the cost?"

Finian at that point was really becoming impatient.

'I ask simply because Harstan might be able to twist our motives, pointing out that the boy has cost you money and you will be anxious to recover it from his labour."

Finian raised an eyebrow at this. He had not considered the possibility.

"Rochadan has said he will assume the costs of feeding the boy. It is his wise to take the orphan in."

"Very well. Will you speak to Rochadan of my concerns, just so we are prepared?"

Finian nodded.

"Good then. I shall return and see what help I can give the boy."

With those words, Bethberry returned to the hall in time to watch a large black dog roll over playfully with the lads before returning to his mistress, a tired looking young woman.

"Rochadan, if you and Cynan can bear to part with our young friend for a bit, I should like to attend to his hurts. Can I, Andhun?" she asked.

The boy nodded shyly, with a small look of relief spreading over his features. "I should like to start work as soon as possible though."

Rochadan laughed. "You will, lad you will."

Nodding at the sombre woman with the dog, Bethberry gently took Andhun's hand and brought him to her small clinic beside the kitchen, a room where the warmth of the fires made treatment for the very ill more pleasant. On her way there, she passed by the room of the other healer, Kannah, and knocked, wishing to ask if she would be interested in joining with her in the boy's treatment. Hearing no reply, Bethberry and Andhun continued on their way. Bethberry rather doubted if Kannah would be willing to offer her services in this case, but it would not do to be seen to snub the young woman with the impatient temper.

[Nurumaiel]

Andhun clung to Bethberry's hand, gazing about him with wide eyes. The place looked so neat and tidy, and so very friendly. Not like Harstan's gloomy home where no light ever shone, where little boys with pale faces flitted here or there like shadowy phantoms, flinching when eyes fell upon them. In this place one could be looked at and not fear a harsh kick or a sharp word. Sunlight streamed through every window and made it seem a bright, merry place.

"Please, ma'am," he said, looking up at her with puzzled eyes, "I know you are going to do something to make me feel better, but I am very curious. I know you will not hurt me, for you are good and kind, but I do not know what you will do. If you take no offense by this, will you tell me?"

Meanwhile, in the Common Room, Cynan was beaming now that he had caught the attention of the young woman. He smiled down at Grimm, and then let his dancing eyes look back up to the young woman. "My name is Cynan Harwell," he said, "and I very much like your dog." He smiled at Grimm again. "What is your name, miss?"

"I am called Kellan," said she.

"That is an interesting name," said Cynan, "and very nice, as well, if I may say so. Do you know, I think Grimm and I will be very good friends. Clearly we both dislike Harstan. I used to have a dog, but he died in the attack of the dragon. Someday I will have a new dog, though, when my mamma is better."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"I used to have a dog, but he died in the attack of the dragon. Someday I will have a new dog, though, when my mamma is better..." The little boy, Cynan, spoke with such confidence. Kellan admired his attitude. She had seen much destruction and sorrow in her travels, but she could not imagine losing her home and having her parents and family wounded or dead. Looking down at Grimm, happy, carefree Grimm, Kellan could not imagine losing him. Their journey together was not over yet, and Kellan knew that she would not be parting with the dog for a long while, but still the woman never thought of the day when they would take separate paths.

"I am sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine," Kellan murmured, her dark eyes brimming with remorse for the young lad. "I am sure that when you have a new dog, he will be very happy and I know he will be in good company. Not like your poor friend, and his master."

Cynan nodded, preoccupied with the big black beast on the floor but listening all the same. Kellan smiled, happy that Grimm could have someone to play with while they were in Dale. Kellan felt too exhausted to put up with his antics, and all Kellan really wanted while she was in Dale was to get up on the roof of the Tavern...but she would deal with that later. Bringing her mind back to the present, she watched as Cynan got Grimm to somehow "shake hands" with him.

"If you do not mind me asking, Cynan...what ails your mother? Is it burns, like your young friend? Or have you all lost someone close to you?" Kellan asked gently, curious but not wanting to pressure her new acquaintance into answering. Kellan knew well that wounds of the heart could hurt just as badly as wounds of the body.

[Nurumaiel]

Cynan sighed deeply and gazed down at Grimm's friendly face, stroking the black head absently. "My papa is dead," said he, "and my mamma is very sick. She will not die, though," he added fiercely, clenching his fists. He looked up at Kellan and relaxed a little, smiling. "I apologize," he said. "The neighbors are always whispering that my mamma is dying of a broken heart. My mamma is not dying, though."

"Of course not," Kellan murmured.

He looked up at her, his face full of curiosity and puzzlement, yet there was the faintest twinkle in his eyes. "How can you say that when you have never seen her? How do you know she is not dying?" Then he laughed. "Again, I apologize," he said. "You should think if anything caused my mamma to die it would be my persistant teasing." And the twinkle in his eyes grew greater.

He found it easy to jest about his mother's illness, for he was more than confident that she would grow better, but deep in his heart it weighed upon him. If all the madness of the gossiping neighbors was true and his mother did die, he would be left the eldest in his family at only eleven years old. He did not see how it was possible to care for them in such a situation. But, of course, his mother would not die. The only difficulty was to find some work to support his family, for their money supply would not last forever. He glanced sideways towards Rochadan and an idea sprung into his head. Maybe the stablemaser would appreciate more than one help about the stable.

"Miss Kellan, it has been more than an honor to meet you," he said, getting to his feet, "and to be perfectly frank I should not leave your company except that I feel it might be polite not to overstay my welcome. If you would like me to stay," and here another twinkle, "I would surely be pleased to. Yet if you no longer desire my presence, I will bid you farewell with such a courtly bow as is rarely seen in a young boy like myself." He was smiling very broadly now, and his eyes were sparkling with such mischief that it was a wonder they didn't spark themselves out. "What do you say?"

[Bêthberry]

"Will I tell you what I shall do to make you well, Andhun? Of course I shall. Not a hand shall touch your skin nor a plaster be placed on your wounds, nor a fluid touch your lips without my first explaining the purpose and effect and gaining your consent."

Andhun looked up at her with startled eyes. Never before in his recent experience, at least since the terrible fire, for he could not always remember much before that, had anyone considered his own wishes.

"What does consent mean?" he asked curiously. "Will you make me sign a paper?"

Bethberry would have laughed at the boy's earnestness had not the cruel reality of his question and her recent experience of Hastan stayed her mind. She regreted her eagerness in wanting to bring the boy to the infirmary, without waiting to see if he wanted a friend to accompany him.

"Our trust lies in our word, here at the Vineyard Tavern, Andhun," she replied. "Shall I ask for Rochadan or Cynan to come here, to witness our words, so you will be more comfortable? "

A soft breeze blew gently through the room. The infirmary was a warm and sunny room, with windows on both east and south walls, and the west wall warmed by the heat of the kitchen. In the morning sun, everything looked fresh and bright. Andhun inhaled deeply, sensing the many aromas which the room held. They comforted him, but before he could speak, the Healer herself spoke up.

"Let me call Cynan. I suspect he will be as curious to see this room as you are, and perhaps I may learn something of his mother's health, too."

With that remark, she walked to the door and quietly bid Ædhral call Cynan to the infirmary.

[The Perky Ent]

At last,he made it. After countless miles of journey, he had reached his destination. Tror could see the rebuilding process starting, and couldn't wait to help. It's been a while since he had seen his brother, Bror, who had died at the Battle of Five Armies, and he was slowly getting over it. Always keeping optimistic, Tror had decided to do whatever he could to help those in need. Not since the Iron Mountains had Tror had a good ale, so he searched around Esgaroth for a good bar. He found several, but since one gathered more attention than others, Tror smiled greatly as he walked into a placed called The Vineyard Tavern

Walking through the doors, he came upon a multitude of people, all drinking and having fun. This was the place for Tror. Walking to the front desk, he noticed a man much taller than him, which wasn't saying much, as Tror was a dwarf. "Hello mr. Dwarf! My name is Finnian, Innkeeper of the Vinyard Tavern! How can I help?" the man ask without a condescending voice, as Tror had experienced so much in his life. "Ello sir! The name's Tror Stonehand. You can call me Stony! It's been a long way from the Iron Mountains. Great place! You ever been? Anyways, I need a room. Not for now, but later! After I'm done drinkin'. Just wanted to let you know there's a dwarf in the place. Hows the food here?" Tror said in a very jolly tone. "Our food is the best there is! Take a seat, and someone will serve you!" Finnian said, pointing to a collection of tables with chairs. Some man sized, some dwarf sized. "Thank you very much sir!" Tror said, walking off.

About two minutes after being seated, a serving girl walked on up to him. "Anthing I can get you?" she said. "Ah yes! I'd like some ale! A good ale, and some cheese!" Tror said, licking his lips. Showing off a small smile, the girl took his order, and then said, "Anthing else sir?" "Ah...no. That's it for now, Adaral?" he said, taking a guess at her name. "Close guess! The name's Ædhral. One moment, and I'll be back with your order!" Ædhral said, and she walked off back to the kitchen. "Ædhral eh? That's a name to remember! Very kind staff. I think I'll like it here"