The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Primrose Bolger]

Her kitchen duties were done for the moment, or at least until Cook noticed she’d gone off for a look about the Inn and called her back. Ginger Gamwich wandered out into the Common Room and nosed about here and there. Listening in a bit on conversations, watching the curious folk who had come to the Green Dragon that day.

A brown haired Elf sat at a table holding a drink in his hand. He’d thrown his black cape over the table and sipped from his mug as he looked about the room. At another table three Hobbits glanced about the Common Room, two of them with smiles on their faces and one with a quite disapproving look. I wonder what that’s all about? she thought to herself as she crossed the room and went out doors.

The day was lovely. Ginger picked a daisy from the bush at the base of the porch steps and tucked it behind her ear. The pretty, star-shaped flower was nestled in, in a fetching way, among her red curls. Following the little pebbled path around to the back of the Inn, she arrived just in time to see some of the servers clearing away a table that had been set up in the shade of the oak tree. Some of the fellows seated at table had already gotten up, among them was Derufin, whom she’d met earlier, walking along with a woman she did not recognize.

Oh, and there just getting up from the table was someone she knew. Mister Banks, it was. Andwise Banks. Ginger stepped toward him, waving as he noticed her . . .

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Peering about the room, Fáinu saw upon the wall a picture of a Dragon and was filled with sadness. He looked at his right hand and moved the fingers, looking again into his mug again he began to think back to the day when Smaug had attacked. But thence he heard the sound of laughter, a joke had been told at a nearby table and the roars of laughter startled him.

Over by the fire Fáinu saw another sitting alone. It was Aduthondiel, and he thought he had spent too long alone, and so went to greet here. Slowly he got up and drained his mug, but there was a bitter taste in it and he shook his head. Going to the fire he pulled up a chair.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked, Aduthondiel made not answer but put out her arm in a gesture of acceptance. “I tire of being alone, and wish for converse.”
Fáinu looked about the room and saw that a few hobbits were looking curiously at him and so quickly he turned back to Aduthondiel.

"Greetings, I am Fáinu, and I have come from Imaladris." he said sitting down, "Whom, prey, art thou?"
He placed his pack under the chair and sat back, the fire was warm, but often he looked away from it, as there was a fear in his heart and the screams of Dale oft came to haunt him.

[Saurreg]

“Have you seen much of the Shire since your arrival?” enquired Gwenneth. Her voice was soft and elegant, yet timbre rich at the same time. It was as rich as the finest of silks.

Ascasir swallowed the contains in his mouth quickly and replied in haste,

"Nay, milady. I have not,"

Ascasir placed his spoon down on the knot-filled wooden table, picked up a piece of napkin and dabbed his lips gingerly. He then turned his head towards the Sindar and continued to talk with steely grey eyes fixed intently on her,

"I crossed the Isen and entered Enewaith but just five nights ago. From there I made a pilgrimage to Lond Daer and tarried yonder for two days, marveling at the stoneworks of the men of old. I then continued my journey north crossing Gwathló the Mighty, and transversed the wide green plains of Minhirath where the tall grass danced to the breath of Manwë; that part of my journey costed me another two days worth of travelling time. It was only last night that I entered the land of the Periannath and now, here I am."

Ascasir Culcollo ended with a slight melodramatic bow, meant to tease the beautiful elven maiden. He picked up his mug of tea and took a long sip.

[Witch_Queen]

"I am Aduthondiel, my last name I can't even remember. You may call me Adu. Everyone else does." Adu looked over to the table of hobbits. "Disgusting little critters aren't they. Oh well they have yet to harm any let them live." Adu's words were cold, colder perhaps than she had first meant them. It had been so long since she had talked with an elf. She mostly talked with Crystal, Arty and Hama when he was around. "Forgive me. I am not very good company right now."

Adu heard a familar sound as the large white crow landed on her shoulder. "Well good evening Avalon. Where might Cree be?" Adu turned around and saw Cree walked through the front door. Suddenly the pressure on her shoulder was released. Avalon gave her greeting and then left Adu and Fáinu. "Imaladris? Oh I remember my last time journeying through Imaladris. So what brings you to the Shire, Fáinu?" Adu smiled and finally set back in her chair. The fireplace gave her the feeling of being back in Rohan.

Adu leaned forward in her chair as she took a sip of her ale. She remembered the last ale she had drank was before she left the Green Dragon. Yet even now she still couldn't get use to the last mouthful and the stinging it made in the back of her throat.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Lifting his head, Fáinu took heed of that Adu was saying. He thought back to the last time he was in Imladris, that was a fair memory, as it was the place of his childhood, but now it was seldom full of bliss since Elrond left.

"I was sent to the havens with a message for Cirdan," he said to Adu, "Now my errand is complete, I came here to see if the tales are true. They do say that the Shire folk are a kind breed whom offer aid. So far I have found little but scorn and distrust."

Fáinu looked into Adu's eyes and saw some sorrow, or regret of he knew not what. A hobbit walked to the fire and put a kettle over it and then walked back to the kitchen, as he did this, he had given a queer look at Fáinu. Laughter and the sound of merriment was in abundance, yet this did not cheer Fáinu, the name of the inn and the images of dragons gave him unpleasant thoughts.

"Have you ever seen the fair valley of rivendel?" He asked breaking the silence and looking up once more, "Not many visit these days, Elrond used to be a most respectable host, and now he is gone, few see it as refuge. Indeed I have hear that the same is said of Lorien since the white lady left, if the stories are true."

Fáinu peered around the room and saw many Hobbits who had suddenly taken an interest in him. Fáinu looked at one who was whispering something to another and had an ill favoured look.

[Arry]

Tomlin, Fallon, Gil, and Ferrin had gotten up from the table and were in the process of ambling back to the cottage worksite. Ferdy hailed them with a ‘Wait up, you lot!’ and ran to catch up with them. Tomlin turned round to see who had called to them, a grin spreading on his face as he spied Andwise, still standing by the table. ‘Well, Ferdy! Look who your Da is talking to!’

The entire group, including Ferdy, halted and looked back. There was Mister Banks listening to some Hobbit lass. Blue dress and bright red curls . . . a familiar smile on her face . . . it was Ginger! A flush crept slowly up Ferdy’s neck, not unnoticed by his companions.

‘Know who Ferdy’ll be dancing with at the party, don’t we?’ chided Fallon in a good-natured way. ‘Wouldn’t mind a dance with her myself,’ he mumbled to himself. A small glare from Ferdy elicited a hasty retraction of the statement.

Gil smoothed things over between the two, and offered up his ideas for who his ideal dance partners would be – Lily and Sandy, he thought, and perhaps a dance with Primrose, if she’d have it. And if not, then Rowan or Blossom or both would do nicely for a spin about the floor. ‘Little cock-a-hoop!’ cried Ferrin. ‘You mean to have all the pretty lasses under your spell!’ Tomlin and Fallon joined in with their short list and soon the fair points of all the lasses in Bywater and Hobbiton were being discussed.

‘Ahem!’ The sound startled the five fellows as they stood in a tight ring. It was Andwise, himself heading back to the cottage at the edge of the Inn grounds. ‘Chattering like magpies,’ he commented as he motioned them to fall in with him. ‘Work won’t get done that way,’ he said in a serious tone of voice. He laughed as their faces fell at his mild scolding.

‘And if the work’s not done, the party will be put off . . .’

Andwise laughed aloud to see their pace pick up . . .

[Nurumaiel]

A little chuckle escaped from Blanco. Marcho turned sourly towards him, but he was not disheartened by the cold look. Rather he made a small gesture to the Elves sitting at a table not far from them. 'They're looking at you, Marcho,' he said. One of the Elves glanced at them again and Blanco waved with a cheery smile, winking. Marcho snorted.

'What does one think of when one looks at an Elf?' Peony murmured dreamily. Bingo's eyes were shining.

'Everything beautiful in the world,' he said. 'You think of the wind in the trees, and the sun shining on a softly rippling lake, and you think of the grass waving amid the wildflowers, and the starlight over a flowered glade, and of singing and dancing in the sun. You think of rivers running through valleys of green, and of the musical notes of the birds rising in the clear air, and of the deer standing still and graceful, and the golden glory of the sun's rising.'

Marcho bestowed a gracious look upon Bingo. Blanco ran his hand back and forth on the table, staring woefully at the door. He hadn't seen his brother since morning, and he hadn't seen Lily since last night. He wanted to see both of them again, and he reluctantly admitted that he missed Posco more. He was worried for him, too. 'When will they come back?' he said. 'What will happen to Posco, out there all alone? Back home he never went out riding unless I went with him. What if he falls and hurts himself? He's just a little child.'

'Ridiculous,' said Marcho. 'If he's a little child, so are you. You're exactly the same age.'

Blanco looked indignant. 'That is not so. One of us is a few minutes older; I think it's me.' He went back to his moaning. 'Oh, poor Posco,' he said. 'What will happen to him? I miss him so much.'

'I always heard that twins couldn't bear to be apart,' said Marcho, 'and every set I've met can manage being alone for awhile. There's something wrong with you, Blanco.'

Once again Blanco was indignant. 'There's something wrong with them,' he said. 'Who could get along without their dearest friend and brother?' And he gazed wistfully at the door. Still there was no sign of the two riders.