The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Adu reached out her hand and placed it on Fáinu's good hand. "So what are you going to do? Will you stay here and keep me company before I decided to return to my home in Rohan?"

Fáinu smiled and looked up. He knew that he could not hide anything from another elf, he knew that few could hide things from him and knew that all elves have a way of seeing thoughts.

"Indeed," Fáinu said at length, "Though I may need a horse soon, Dwaline, the dwarf, told me some things that unnerved me." He looked coldly out of the window, then shook his head, "But let us not speak of it, for it concerns far off lands and I wish for rest, if but for a little while."

Adu seemed happy and content; he saw that she enjoyed the company of another elf, as did he. So far he had had few dealings with elves, Dwarves and men had been who he had dealing with when he wandered about Rhovanion.

Fáinu sniggered and looked at Adu, "You would think the Dwarves would be happy with all that gold. But no, they want more and more and so delve themselves into trouble." he shook his head, smiling.

A hobbit stumbled passed pushed the door, little did he realise it needed to be pulled. The Hobbit began to be angered with the door.

"If you don't open up!" he slurred, "I'm going to get tough on you!" then another Hobbit opened the door from outside and the Hobbit fell back. "Dang doors, you have to put them in their place." he them hobbled out.

Fáinu smirked and thought it reminded him of several elves in Mirkwood. The wine from dale was not nearly as nice as that he had received here, but the Hobbits seem to need to drink a lot more before it had any effect on them.

"Where are your friends?" asked Fáinu looking back at Adu, "coming from Rohan? How long should it be before they arrive?"

[piosenniel]

It is late afternoon, edging onto evening at the Green Dragon Inn. Supper will be served soon, The fragrant scent of roast lamb with rosemary is in the air, to be served with boiled and buttered taters, and fresh, glistening peas from the garden.

Apple pie is hot from the ovens and just cooling for dessert.

The evening is a fair one . . . no chill breezes or hint of storm.

[starkat]

Gwenneth had been so deep in conversation with Ascasir and Isilme, that she hadn't realized that time was slipping away. With the smell of apple pie waifting in from the kitchen, Gwenneth took leave of her companions and headed for the barn.

She entered and spotted Elenath. The young elf maid picked up some grooming tools and entered the stall. Gwenneth greeted her mare and began brushing her.

[Saurreg]

Ascasir signed softly to himself, elven eyes tailing Gwenneth as she made her way out ouf the serving hall. The Silvan elf rubbed his chin ruefully for a moment and his delicate brows knitted together in thought. Turning back to the table, he looked upon Isilmë and frowned,

"Friend Isilmë, I wonder if we have been rude by somewhat beating around the bush when that fair creation of Illuvatar's suggested we go horse riding. I do so fear that our conduct was unbecoming and may have irritated her We have after all, not given her a definitive reply!"

The Galadhrim shrugged his shoulders and replied,

"True friend Ascasir. But since neither one of us here has a horse to call our own, it is highly unlikely we would have been able to accomodate her suggestion. Unless of course she rides upon her swift steed and glides through fields and meadows like some fair maiar from the west while, we run behind her... trashing about like pack dogs."

"That would have been quite unsightly."

"Indeed."

Arien was charting her course west and the rays of the sun stretched even further through the wall openings of the Green Dragon until they touched the wall on the opposite end of the windows. The light was now a shade of rich amber rather than golden yellow, but it was still comfortably warm. A strong aroma of baked apples and buttery crust diffused through the air.

Acasir smiled wanely in satisfaction as he slumped lazily down the sturdy wooden chair and closed his eyes.

[Nurumaiel]

Posco shuddered slightly. 'The farmer who set his dogs upon us? I was quite frightened.' He blushed rather sheepishly when Blanco gave him a reassuring pat on the back. 'Well, it was shortly after we had gotten out of the river, and as we were just beginning to dry off we came to a farmer's place. We were bold enough to jump the fence and ride over his land, and apparently we ignorantly trampled over his little flower garden, which we thought was just a bunch of wildflowers. I stooped down to pick some for Lily - ' here he blushed ' - and just as I did I heard some terrible cries and the howling of dogs. The farmer shouted all kinds of awful things to us, and we had to turn and run back. Fortunately our ponies we faster than the dogs, but they kept good pace until we came to the stream again, where they began to slow. The ponies were terrified, however, and wouldn't stop until they were across the stream, and we got soaking wet again.'

'Just when we were beginning to dry,' said Lily with a little sigh.

'Did you lose the flowers?' Blanco asked. 'What a pity!'

Posco shook his head. 'I did not!' he cried. 'I held onto them the whole way.' And he gestured to Lily's head, where a pretty bunch of bright flowers rested in her hair.

[Amanaduial the archer]

As twilight settled across the undulating hills and rolling hills, the farmers and field workers of the Shire set off home, and the sherpherds and cow-herds began to set off home. One such shepherd, a certain Calico Proudfoot, started from his peaceful half-doze under a widebrimmed horsechestnut tree as he heard the sound of pounding hooves, many of them by the sound of it. Sitting sharply upright, Calico pushed the worn, fraying straw hat back from his eyes and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes surreptitiously as he gathered his wits, before standing a little unsteadily, attempting nonchalantly to flatten the creases out of his dungarees. Looking more closely at aforementioned creases, he rubbed at them a little harder, a wrinkle building in his young brow - why, his wife would have his guts for garters if he appeared home in this state! Ah, Buttercup Proudfoot, belle of Near Bag End, as radiant and dainty and glowing as her namesake. A regular... Calico struggled in his mind to think of some way to describe his wife, before giving up. Well, she was lovely anyway, and once her reluctant father had acquiested Calico's tentative request for her hand in marriage six months ago, Buttercup and Calico had been joined for all eternity. Only eternities were, well, rather funny things: Calico could swear he had already seen a fair few of them pass by with his fair wife by his side.

Not that she wasn't lovely, the gentle spirited hobbit-tween ammended hastily, even in his mind feeling guilty for any word against Buttercup, but, well, she was rather...domineering. He gave a pleased little smile at this thought, rather proud of such complex wording. Yes, that's right, she was domineering, and if anyman was to say any worse, he'd have their guts for garters. He paused, a small frown appearing once more on his chubby face as he considered the idea. Well, he wouldn't, being as he didn't wear garters and all, but...well, certainly someone would have their guts for garters, or some other part of their clothing. Maybe his little wife would like them for her garters? Well, maybe not, don't suppose Buttercup would be very into guts being worn as any sort of clothing...

So caught up was he in such a complex and confusing line of thought about who exactly would be wearing wear whose entrails, the many hooves had completely slipped his mind, only to be remembered when a polite cough came from nearby. Calico jumped a clear inch off the ground, one pudgy hand whipping up to tyhe top of his head to steady his hat as he looked around, wide-eyed. When he saw the owner of said polite cough, he took another step backwards...then another, just for good measure. "Oh....um...oh," he stammered uneasily, hand still clutching the top of his hat. In front of him rose an altogether rather menacing looking figure: a darkly cloaked rider, it's features obscured by the setting sun behind which cast an eerie glow of red and gold around it. It silently regarded him from atop a giant black horse, about seventeen inches high and dark as the night; beside this darksome beast stood another, smaller horse, an unmoving statue seemingly carved of fine, flecked stone, it's grey coat seeming to change colour subtly at the edge of the eyesight, greys, blacks and whites all playing a part in the dappled beauty. Both horses breathed heavily, and Calico could not help noticing that the black horse's panting definitely had a decidedly menacing edge to it; and horsey, what large nostrils you have...

Altogether a rather unsettling image for a young hobbit of an evening.

"Oh-h-h..." Calico moaned quietly, his saucer eyes gazing up at the black beast less than two feet away.

The rider's head tilted to one side and Calico gave a stifled gasp and shut his eyes tightly. There was a rather embarassed pause before a voice spoke. "Are...are you alright, sir?"

Calico frowned slightly, but did not open his eyes. Certainly, that did not sound like him much like the ghastly intonation of a dread horseman from t'other side of Doom. For one thing, it was female. Still, you never knew what sorts of new fangled tricks were being thought up on t'other side of Doom, and so Calico kept his eyes tightly shut. Still, it was nice of 'it' to ask, even if it was a dread horseman from t'other side of Doom, so, ever a well-mannered boy, the hobbit nodded tightly and gave a muted, strangled sound of affirmation from pursed lips. Deciding maybe more was needed, he managed, "Yes, thank you," still with his eyes closed. Naturally.

There was a pause and the distinct sound of someone licking their lips uncertainly. "Oh. Good. Well, I was just wondering if you would maybe like some help gathering in...your...sheep?"

Calico gasped and his eyes very nearly opened although he restrained himself just in time. "How did you know I was a shepherd?!"

Pause. "The...sheep. They....well, I'm afraid they rather gave it away," came the steady reply. Although it was perfectly courteous, Calico was almost - almost - sure that he heard it tinged with a smile. Did dread horsemen smile? Who knows...certainly it was an altogether more Brandybuck-like business than Calico liked to contemplate.

"Oh. No, thank you, sir horseman."

"Sure?"

"No, thank'ee. I'm sure you have other...business to attend to."

"Oh. Right. Ok, well, it's just...I didn't...well, alright." There was a second's stop, then the rider burst out, "It's just that they're all scattered and-"

"I think you may have scared them, sir horseman."

There was yet another lengthy and slightly embarassed pause, followed by an exasperated sigh, a few clicking noises - some black tongue?! - before the hooves started to move again, and the rider began to ride off, slowly.

"Sir- hmm. We- hmm. I- hmm." Pause. "Well, then I shall bid you good evening, sir. And I hope to see you at the handfasting!"

The last words were almost obscured by the sound of eight hooves as they sped up, but Calico was sure of what he had heard, and his eyes opened wide as he whirled around to look after the rider, but saw only a disappearing back riding down the hill, topped by what certainly looked like - and maybe it was a trick of the mind, or the eye, or whoever else likes to interfere with sight - what certainly looked like a pair of scruffy light brown pigtails streaming back. As only the head was still in view, the rider raised a hand and waved back to Calico, before it disappeared altogether.

Calico stayed completely still for some time even after the sound of hooves had disappeared, staring in the direction the rider had gone. Had he heard right? Had he seen right?! A female dread rider, waving back, talking of help and handfasting... Calico shook himself vigourously, is chubby face all a-quiver as he leant down to pick up his crook. Something here was certainly not right. Still, now he came to think about it - well, you got all sorts at the Green Dragon, not a mile hence. Folk from all over, and others who had seen all over - surely one of them would be able to explain? Certainly he couldn't come home so a-quiver to his fine but domineering wife, dirty dungarees and all, and have no solid and reliable proof from a-man-in-an-Inn that he was not just making up the darksome rider from t'other side of doom with two horses and helpful talk and a woman's voice and...and...pigtails...

As Calico firmed up the image of the rider in his head, herding his sheep absently down the hillside to his modest farm, the 'darksome rider' arrived back after two days in the courtyard of the Green Dragon Inn, and dismounted to greet Merimac with a grin.

"Evening, Miz Aman..."

[Firefoot]

It was now Lily's turn to blush. She loved the flowers, wreathed about her head, but she knew her hair must be extremely mussed. Between their mad gallop and the river, her braid had fallen out and she had used the ribbon to secure the flowers. But despite her wind-blown hair, she was quite pleased. Posco had held on to those flowers for her, and she knew that they would be kept for quite some time.

"I suppose that is about the last of our 'adventures,'" said Lily. "The rest of the ride was rather uneventful, and after we had dried off, we headed back here. Though I must say, after all that I think I have found the Shire to be quite an interesting place, very different from Bree and yet a lot alike as well." The rolling hills and well-tended fields were very much to her liking. She mused that she might like to live there, and though the thought surprised her, she was comfortable with it. She realized that she was drifting off into her own thoughts, and snapped out of it.

“So what were you all doing while we were gone? Did anything of interest happen?” she asked.