The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

littlemanpoet · 07-26-2004, 07:29 PM

Eodwine looked around at the others, and at the thinning crowd. "Friends," he said after a moment of deep ale-belabored thought, "has anyone bothered to check to see if there were rooms available?"

Falco Boffin gave Eodwine a stricken, wide eyed look. "By my old gaffer's last eye tooth, I think not!"

"Perhaps we should see to it," answered Eodwine, his tongue massaging the words lazily.

"Be my guest," said Falco."

"Master Falco," Eodwine leaned forward and gave him as steady a look as he was able, "that is my point. We are nobody's guest, just eaters and drinkers so far."

Falowik chuckled, having kept a more or less clear head until now. "Uien and I will see what we can find out, my friend."

"My thanks, Master Falow-hic! 'Scuse me."

Falowik and Uien left Eodwine, Falco, Gorby, Anson and Finëwen in various states of drowsing, and sought out Aman.

Envinyatar · 07-27-2004, 12:30 PM

The night was quiet as he walked toward the stables. An occasional nighthawk’s cry could be heard against the dark sky, and the pattering of small feet through the grasses near the garden as some small animal helped itself to the Inn’s bounty. Derufin reached the stable doors and stepped into a soft puddle of muted gold . . . the light from the small lamp, turned low, hanging just inside the entryway that Merrimac had left for him.

‘No need for this, now,’ he thought turning the wick down and blowing gently across the glass chimney. The moon had risen, waxing halfway to full, and shown in through the open skylight above. It was enough light for him to find his way back to his old room. And, indeed, were it dark as pitch, he could have walked the way through the stables without stumbling . . . so familiar was the place to him.

To his right, set along the long wall were the work areas – tools, shoes, nails, leather, medicines; all manner of things to make the stay of the horses and ponies a good one as they waited for their masters. To his left were the stalls, only half-filled this evening, most of the patrons at the Inn being locals. Horses moved in their stalls as he passed; he called out in a low voice to them, calming words of reassurance. Young Merrimac, the stable-boy, was already asleep in the right hand room at the back of the stable. He turned, sighing in his sleep, lost in some dream.

Derufin turned left into his rooms. Ruby had obviously come out and tidied them up for him while he was in the Inn. There were fresh linens on the bed and a small post of flowers from the garden on the table where the lamp stood. Towels were on the dresser top, as were a clean cup and a small ewer of water. He sat wearily on the bed – it had been a long day of travel. Stripped down to his small clothes he tucked himself beneath the covers, relishing the feel and smell of fresh sheets. Light scents of lavender clung to them from the lavender sprigs hung in the linens’ closet each week.

His window, to the left of the bed was opened, and he could just hear the far away croaks of the frogs at The Pool. One arm tucked beneath his head, he lay staring into the darkness. ‘Only a week,’ he smiled, ‘and I will have my dear heart here beside me . . .’

piosenniel · 07-27-2004, 12:34 PM

Notice of Coming Time Change in The Green Dragon

Everyone please begin to wrap up your night-time posts – tomorrow (about 12 hours from now, my time), I am moving the Inn onto the next day’s morning.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

Lalwendë · 07-27-2004, 01:47 PM

Jinniver tapped the ash from the bowl of her pipe into an earthenware basin on her table, and took a scrap of old cotton from one of the pockets on her belt. She carefully wiped the pipe clean, and yawning, put it away. She had already been out for a few minutes to see that her cart horse, Nutkin, was stabled comfortably for the night, and finding him sleepily chewing what looked like the finest hay in The Shire, she was content. After taking a canvas bag from her cart, she had gone back indoors to enjoy a little more pipeweed before bed.

It was now very late, but she had been enjoying the stories and music of these strangers and had been resolutely fighting the urge to sleep. Now she could fight no longer and decided to make her way to bed. As she stood up, her knees cracked and she winced. This was the result of many years spent kneeling on the cold ground to tend plants and although she was used to the cracking noise, when she stood up after a long time sitting, there was also pain.

Her room was easy to find, and going through the door she ducked, expecting it to have a low ceiling, to be built for hobbits. She was surprised when she found that the room was as high as any she was used to, and that the bed was larger than any she had ever seen. Pressing it lightly with her hand and finding that it was even softer than she had hoped for, Jinniver pushed the door to and began to change into her nightclothes quickly. She removed the yellow rose from her hair and loosened the four thick braids so that they fell down her back, but she did not undo them any further, as she was now too tired for any more fussing about.

Blowing out her candle, she crawled between the cool linen sheets. A moth that had fluttered into the room with her, following the dim candlelight, flew madly about, now trapped for the rest of the night. He made for the window where the moonlight was streaming in, his wings beating uselessly against the glass. Jinniver didn’t notice the creature and she stretched out, savouring the feeling of comfort for a moment before she turned over and fell into a deep sleep. Under her pillow she had placed the black dagger.

07-27-2004, 12:30 PM	#2
Envinyatar Quill Revenant Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: Wandering through the Downs..... Posts: 849	The night was quiet as he walked toward the stables. An occasional nighthawk’s cry could be heard against the dark sky, and the pattering of small feet through the grasses near the garden as some small animal helped itself to the Inn’s bounty. Derufin reached the stable doors and stepped into a soft puddle of muted gold . . . the light from the small lamp, turned low, hanging just inside the entryway that Merrimac had left for him. ‘No need for this, now,’ he thought turning the wick down and blowing gently across the glass chimney. The moon had risen, waxing halfway to full, and shown in through the open skylight above. It was enough light for him to find his way back to his old room. And, indeed, were it dark as pitch, he could have walked the way through the stables without stumbling . . . so familiar was the place to him. To his right, set along the long wall were the work areas – tools, shoes, nails, leather, medicines; all manner of things to make the stay of the horses and ponies a good one as they waited for their masters. To his left were the stalls, only half-filled this evening, most of the patrons at the Inn being locals. Horses moved in their stalls as he passed; he called out in a low voice to them, calming words of reassurance. Young Merrimac, the stable-boy, was already asleep in the right hand room at the back of the stable. He turned, sighing in his sleep, lost in some dream. Derufin turned left into his rooms. Ruby had obviously come out and tidied them up for him while he was in the Inn. There were fresh linens on the bed and a small post of flowers from the garden on the table where the lamp stood. Towels were on the dresser top, as were a clean cup and a small ewer of water. He sat wearily on the bed – it had been a long day of travel. Stripped down to his small clothes he tucked himself beneath the covers, relishing the feel and smell of fresh sheets. Light scents of lavender clung to them from the lavender sprigs hung in the linens’ closet each week. His window, to the left of the bed was opened, and he could just hear the far away croaks of the frogs at The Pool. One arm tucked beneath his head, he lay staring into the darkness. ‘Only a week,’ he smiled, ‘and I will have my dear heart here beside me . . .’ __________________ ‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’ – Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age'

07-27-2004, 12:34 PM	#3
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Notice of Coming Time Change in The Green Dragon Everyone please begin to wrap up your night-time posts – tomorrow (about 12 hours from now, my time), I am moving the Inn onto the next day’s morning. Thanks! ~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.

07-26-2004, 07:29 PM	#1
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Eodwine and company Eodwine looked around at the others, and at the thinning crowd. "Friends," he said after a moment of deep ale-belabored thought, "has anyone bothered to check to see if there were rooms available?" Falco Boffin gave Eodwine a stricken, wide eyed look. "By my old gaffer's last eye tooth, I think not!" "Perhaps we should see to it," answered Eodwine, his tongue massaging the words lazily. "Be my guest," said Falco." "Master Falco," Eodwine leaned forward and gave him as steady a look as he was able, "that is my point. We are nobody's guest, just eaters and drinkers so far." Falowik chuckled, having kept a more or less clear head until now. "Uien and I will see what we can find out, my friend." "My thanks, Master Falow-hic! 'Scuse me." Falowik and Uien left Eodwine, Falco, Gorby, Anson and Finëwen in various states of drowsing, and sought out Aman.

07-27-2004, 01:47 PM	#4
Lalwendë A Mere Boggart Join Date: Mar 2004 Location: under the bed Posts: 4,737	Jinniver tapped the ash from the bowl of her pipe into an earthenware basin on her table, and took a scrap of old cotton from one of the pockets on her belt. She carefully wiped the pipe clean, and yawning, put it away. She had already been out for a few minutes to see that her cart horse, Nutkin, was stabled comfortably for the night, and finding him sleepily chewing what looked like the finest hay in The Shire, she was content. After taking a canvas bag from her cart, she had gone back indoors to enjoy a little more pipeweed before bed. It was now very late, but she had been enjoying the stories and music of these strangers and had been resolutely fighting the urge to sleep. Now she could fight no longer and decided to make her way to bed. As she stood up, her knees cracked and she winced. This was the result of many years spent kneeling on the cold ground to tend plants and although she was used to the cracking noise, when she stood up after a long time sitting, there was also pain. Her room was easy to find, and going through the door she ducked, expecting it to have a low ceiling, to be built for hobbits. She was surprised when she found that the room was as high as any she was used to, and that the bed was larger than any she had ever seen. Pressing it lightly with her hand and finding that it was even softer than she had hoped for, Jinniver pushed the door to and began to change into her nightclothes quickly. She removed the yellow rose from her hair and loosened the four thick braids so that they fell down her back, but she did not undo them any further, as she was now too tired for any more fussing about. Blowing out her candle, she crawled between the cool linen sheets. A moth that had fluttered into the room with her, following the dim candlelight, flew madly about, now trapped for the rest of the night. He made for the window where the moonlight was streaming in, his wings beating uselessly against the glass. Jinniver didn’t notice the creature and she stretched out, savouring the feeling of comfort for a moment before she turned over and fell into a deep sleep. Under her pillow she had placed the black dagger.