The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[elronds_daughter]

Alameth silently ate the lunch Eleniel had brought her while Eleniel told her about herself. The food was good. Better than what she'd had at other inns along the way, in fact.

Eleniel's question rang in her ears: "Is there anything else you'd like to know?" She wanted to know everything. How long Eleniel had been taking trips to find merchandise for her shop; how many years she had owned it; what it was like to own a shop like that; who she left in charge of the shop while she was gone, or if she just closed it. But it would never do to ask all these at once.

"What is it like?" she asked. "Owning a shop, I mean. How long have you had it? And what do you sell there? Everything? Oh, dear," Alameth regretted asking so many questions. "I got quite ahead of myself. I only meant to ask one question, and there I go asking three. I hope you don't mind. I've always been plagued with curiosity. Mother used to say it would be my undoing...." Her voice trailed off at the thought of her mother. Even after twelve years, it was still difficult to think of her without getting a tear in her eye.

She snapped herself out of her reverie. It would do no good to cry in front of three people. Eleniel might be sympathetic, but she wasn't sure about the elves.

"But so far," she said with a smile, "my curiosity has only helped. It has dwindled somewhat since I was six, but as you can tell, I still haven't been able to quench it."

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

“I do not think that such a wise idea, Aman.”

Snaveling was the first to break the long silence that had fallen upon the friends. The Innkeeper looked surprised to hear him speak – or rather, she appeared to be surprised by the condescending tone that he had used with her. Snaveling modulated his approach somewhat, reminding himself that he had not yet had a chance to speak with the girl about her feelings, and about the hopelessness of her love for him. There was, however, no such time for that conversation now. Toby’s situation commanded their immediate attention.

Turning his attention to his friend, Snaveling crouched down before the Halfing and placed his hand upon the fellow’s small shoulder. “Toby,” he said quietly. “Do you have any hope that your sister would be willing to listen to your explanation?” Toby merely shook his head mutely. Snaveling sighed and rose once more to face Aman. “You see, he knows his sister better than we, and even Tobias despairs of her impartiality. Besides, what matter if we could convince her of Tobias’s story, his guilt has already been proclaimed by the Thain, and Toby himself has admitted to having collaborated with the invaders.”

Aman made to protest but Toby prevented her. “No no, mistress, do not try to absolve me of this. Snaveling speaks true. I did not put the knife into my cousin, but I whetted the blade for sure. If it had not been for me…”

“Enough!” the girl cried, and to Snaveling’s surprise there were tears in her eyes as she spoke. “I won’t hear any more of this! You did nothing wrong, Toby. At least, nothing that many others who are free and guiltless, and easy in their conscience, also did during those terrible days. And you,” she said, whirling upon the Man, “you, who have received the mercy and the justice of the King. For you to counsel despair now…it is senseless. Why would you deny your friend the same chance that was afforded yourself?”

“For the simple reason, dear lady, that I was given justice by the King Elessar, while Toby here is dependent upon the whim of a ridiculous family and…” he caught himself, and looked quickly at Toby. Seeing this, Aman’s face grew hard and she spoke venom at him.

“Nay, Master Snaveling, do not silence yourself on our account. Say what thoughts are in your mind.”

“I do not think them worth the utterance,” he replied coldly. “We should cease this wrangling and look to the matter at hand.”

But the Innkeeper was not to be put off so easily. She had recovered her usual composure and stepping close to Snaveling she looked at him evenly. “I agree, but this matter is important. If Toby is going to rely upon our help, he should know how we feel about the people who control his fate. You were about to offer up an opinion about the Thain of the Shire, I believe.”

Snaveling’s eyes grew cold and hard. He stood tall and in his voice there was iron. “Are you sure you wish to pursue this matter, Aman? Be warned, for it shall pain you and Tobias more than ever it shall pain me!”

Toby now spoke up. So rapt had the man and woman been in each other that they had almost forgotten the ragged gentlehobbit, sitting quietly in his armchair. “Snaveling,” he said gravely, “if you have something to say about my Thain, I wish to hear it.” Snaveling and Aman looked at Toby in wonderment, for in his voice there was a dignity and a reserve the like of which they had but rarely seen in him. “Please,” he said again simply. “For the sake of our old friendship – what is it that you would say about my people?”

Snaveling withdrew from Aman and Toby somewhat, into the shadows of the darker corner. Drawing himself upright he spoke with a distant tone. “Very well. You would know what I think of this Thain and of his officers. Then hear: I have heard the tales of the Halflings who came to my King’s aid during the War, and while I believe those stories, I cannot believe that the valour ascribed to these folk is at all earned. From what I have seen the denizens of this land are a silly, foolish lot, and I would rather that Toby not trust to what little wisdom can be found here. This Thain of Toby’s has clearly been misled by a stupid woman. If Toby is to take my counsel he will leave this land and come with me to the south, where he can be free of these ridiculous folk for good!”

[Maeggaladiel]

Eleniel smiled at Alameth's flood of questions.

"Curiosity is nothing to be ashamed of," she said. "Indeed, where would we be if not for curiosity? We'd have no art, no inventions.

"Well, to answer your first question, owning a shop is both a pleasure and a curse. It's a lot of work-- inventory, accounting and whatnot-- but for me it's well worth the effort. Income changes depending on the market, obviously; if people are safe, economically sound, and have time on their hands, then business is good. If we're under attack or are suffering from financial hardship, then my shop gets fewer customers. Right now, things aren't going as well as expected; we're still suffering from last spring's flood. It washed out a bridge and flooded nearby farms, and Laketown is still repairing damages. I suppose that's the downside of living on a river. If the snow melts too quickly, we all end up swimming to work. That means people have less time or money to buy anything other than food or building supplies.

"Obviously things would get a bit difficult to manage while I'm out searching for merchandise, so I've hired a few people to run things while I'm gone. Otherwise I'd have to close shop for several months. Not very good for business.

"I sell a little of everything; I try to gather things from all across Middle Earth to interest the people of Laketown as well as visitors. Clothing, weaponry, pottery, jewlery, sweets, musical instruments, quill pens and everything in between."

She took a sip of her ale.

"I've told you a bit about my life," she said. "What about yours? What is it like in Rohan? I've visited there a few times, but only for a few days. Where do you live?"

[Envinyatar]

It was late afternoon by the time Derufin came down from the roof. The tar was set, the shingling in place. He was certain he’d been thorough, but the next rain would be the judge of it. It was quiet in the house below, the lads had finished as much as they could for the day. The extra room was done and painted, as was the rest of house. Ferdy had finished the cabinets and put them back. Now all that awaited was the paint to dry and the hardware put onto the doors and drawers.

Andwise was just finishing up the front door. He plied his soft brush over it, removing the wood shavings and fine dust in the creases of the carvings. ‘As a last touch, he took the soft handkerchief from his back pocket and rubbed away with a touch of saliva a spot or two of dirt. ‘Here,’ he said, motioning for the man to come give a hand. ‘Let’s stand this up on the porch beneath the eaves.’

The two muscled the heavy oak door up the few steps and stood it against the porch wall next to the doorway. Andwise took the handkerchief in hand and wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘What say we go for a pint,’ said Derufin, as he inspected the door. ‘The lads are already there, I’m sure. and we can get them to help us put the door on a little later.’ He clapped the Hobbit on the back, nodding with his head toward the Dragon.

[piosenniel]

GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS:

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn (played by Envinyatar)

Meriadoc - Stablemaster

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

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Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

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About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

[piosenniel]

It is now late afternoon in the Shire.

The sun is still shining.

But, the wind has picked up; there are clouds blowing in from the West.

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NOTE: A small rainstorm may be brewing up . . .

[elronds_daughter]

Alameth laughed. “Yes,” she said, “floods would be a disadvantage of living on a lake.”

She leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “Tell you about my life, eh? There really isn’t much to tell. My home is very near Edoras, and I’ve been there many times; but as I said, up till now I haven’t been more than ten miles from there. But Rohan truly is beautiful. The plains, the Entwash, even Fangorn Forest; though I wouldn’t recommend getting too close. The trees can be a bit hostile. And Meduseld! On a day when the sun shines, there is nothing in Middle-Earth can compare to that.”

[Amanaduial the archer]

"The shivaree?" Aman laughed as she picked up the Derufin's glass and re-filled it with some fine dark stout from the pitcher she was carrying. Looking at Andwise across the table as she set down the glass again, she wrinkled her nose curiously. "What's the shivaree?"

Andwise stared at her, eyebrows raised. "You don't...ah, well, fill my glass, Innkeeper, and I shall educate you both!"

[Amanaduial the archer]

Oh that I could travel with you, Aman yearned silently. I grow tired of seeing all who come pass, and the shadow of discontent has passed once too many times across my mind. But would you take me, Master Snaveling? Such a fine beast, that beautiful black steed, surely may be taken as some hint...

Foolish girl, Aman. His heart lies in the South.

As does mine...

Not the Innkeeper's thoughts towards Snaveling were quite so easy dwelling on such things at the moment. "'Free of this ridiculous folk'?"

Aman's throat was dry when she repeated the words and she cast a sharp glance at Toby, to see him wearing a weary, wry smile. Tobias shook his head and looked as if to speak in the same weary manner that his expression bore, but Aman jumped in first, standing suddenly and taking a step towards Snaveling. "Master Snaveling, there is nothing in the world worse than being isolated from your own people, especially when it is not at your own choice: exiled from all your knew and believed and grew up with. I would expect you to understand, Snaveling, for was it not you who was reunited with your people recently? Of course, the court of Elessar was not where you grew up, but they are your people, your kin - you were welcomed and are still welcomed - because they are your people. The Halflings are different from the men of the South, a different race, a different land, a wholy different way of living: you may not agree with their customs, their ways, their leadership, but these people are Tobias's people. And I would not for one second have him forced away from them against his will, exiled and never to return. And as his friend, I would expect that you would not either."

There was a silence after the almost-challenge as Aman, though rather more diminuitive in height than Snaveling, faced him nonetheless eye to eye, almost quivering with passion. And in that moment, Aman saw something change in the man's expression, the flash of passion soften to a sort of tenderness - but it was not a look that Aman liked, far too akin as it was to the condescending tone he had earlier used. And she knew that it was nothing to do with Toby.

"Of course I am his friend." Snaveling replied coldly.

"I...I did not mean to insinuate that you were not," Aman wavered. "It...oh, gods' fire, this is ridiculous." She half turned away, a hand to her forehead, before she turned back to Snaveling, crossing her arms. "This is quite beside the point and I am so het up about this that...I made the point because quite simply that is how I feel. No one should be taken from their people against their will, and this exile would be pressured - do you honestly think Toby would never wish to return to the Shire? Toby?" She turned to the hobbit.

Toby sagged slightly, then sat forward on his seat, his hairy feet swinging slightly, a few centimetres as they were off the ground, as he stared pensively into space. After a moment, he spoke, slowly and thoughtfully. "Would I miss the Shire for itself? Who knows. But I do know that if I was never to be allowed back, I would most certainly yearn for it all the more."

Snaveling nodded slowly, and Aman did the same as she returned to her chair and her untouched glass of port which she contemplated taking a quick gulp of to calm herself, and contented herself with swilling it gloomily. Snaveling returned to his perch behind Tobias' chair, seeming to prefer it to one of the two spare armchairs which were still absent beside Aman's and Tobias'. Breaking the moody silence, Aman said, "For the meantime, we must think of some short time resolution of hiding Tobias. You cannot stay forever in the stables, Mr. Hornblower," she added, a small smile gracing her slight features. "The question is where..." she sat forward suddenly, clicking her fingers and almost spilling the port across her dress in the process. "The Thain's men - and whatever opinions we may differ on over the nature of the Thain himself, I think we can both agree that such a trio of bumbling fools with assumed authority has not been seen since the Scouring - but they said that they had a warrant to check everywhere in the Inn 'except my own personal chambers'." She paused, looking from one to the other excitedly. "They cannot check my own rooms - and besides, only I have to key to this one, although there is a spare key to my chambers."

Tobias shifted a little uncomfortably. "With all respect, Aman...locked in here?"

Aman noted the gentlehobbit's discomfort with the idea - reasonable worry, she supposed, from such a lifelong rogue. Though not a criminal, she ammended hastily. She inclined her head. "It would seem the only way - do not worry, Toby, only I would have the key and none other would get their hands on it. No one will corner you in here. And there really is only one other place good enough."

"Dare I ask...?" Tobias probed, in a tone of voice that said he highly suspected that he shouldn't.

"The roof. Well, exactly, your friend Snaveling never had much enthusiasm for it either," she agreed as Toby recoiled from the idea. "But there is only one key, and with me it shall stay. But...Toby, on a more long term scale, I would press the idea that you should meet your sister." She held up a hand as Tobias went white and Snaveling started to protest. "Abominable or not, my dear friend, she is the only one who can change this situation."

Rising, she entrusted the glass of port to Snaveling as she passed him and excused herself. "If you will excuse me gentlemen, I must go and play my part of good, and rather stupid, Innkeeper of the finest Inn around for this 'ridiculous' folk." She looked to Toby, her green eyes straight and direct as her hand hesitated on the door handle. "Toby, I would advise you to think on it."

And with that, she was gone, back into the whirl of the Green Dragon, all smiles and shouts and hidden thoughts.

[Arry]

The wind was growing chill as they walked to the Inn. Thick clouds scudded across the sky, making the afternoon seem colder as they obscured the western sun. Andwise and Derufin quickened their steps, anticipating that soon there would be rain. And, indeed, even as they closed the Inn’s kitchen door behind them, the fat drops had begun to fall.

‘Don’t you be tracking mud or dirt on my floors, Misters,’ Cook said as she stopped them at the entrance, her wooden spoon pointing to the rough woven mat spread out beneath their feet. Dutifully the two, wiped their feet and boots thoroughly before daring the clean, oak wood floor. Satisfied, Cook directed them to the large kitchen sink to wash up. Like schoolboys they waited her approval, which she gave with a quick nod of her head, before they passed through the kitchen’s swinging doors and into the common room.

Aman stood behind the bar, pulling the handle on the ale keg with a practiced ease as she held several half pint mugs with one hand and filled then brimming to the top one after the other in a quick arc. Buttercup was there, waiting with a large serving tray. The weather had driven a great many into the comfort of the Inn, and all of them, it seemed, were thirsty. Giving a wink to the Innkeeper, Derufin grabbed two of the pint mugs and handed one to Andwise. The Hobbit led the way to a table near the fireplace, close enough that they might put up their legs and warm their feet on the hearth.

Pipes were got out, and filled, tamped, and lit. The little ritual conducted in silence until the satisfied ‘ahh’ of exhalation after the first pull at the pipestem. Mugs were raised, and good wishes made to the other. They fell then, in companionable quiet, to looking about the room at the other patrons. The survey punctuated by sips of good brown ale and the fiddling with one’s pipe that is the main part of the art of smoking.

Buttercup brought them a small plate of ham with cheddar and pickle rolls to stave off any hunger pangs until supper would be served. Andwise helped himself to one, along with a refill to his mug, then pushed the plate cross the table to Derufin. He was feeling quite relaxed at the moment, his tongue loosened with the Dragon’s brew. The usual veil of reserve had been rent a bit, and he found himself inclined to talk.

He looked over the top of his mug with a recollective twinkle in his eye, and nodded his head at Derufin. ‘I remember the day my missus and I were handfasted,’ he said, chuckling at the man. ‘Lovely party. All the family there and half the Shire, or so it seemed. Nearly ate us out of house and home. Thank goodness the ladies had brought loads of meats and breads and cheeses and desserts . . . all trying to outdo the other, of course,' he confided . . . 'and the Inn had given a barrel or so of ale to quench the thirsty horde.’ He took a long pull at his mug and waved at Buttercup to bring the pitcher. ‘And music,’ he went one. ‘A small group of local lads played for us on the lawn round the Party Tree. We danced, my missus and I, until our feet were blistered.’

‘Sounds good to me!’ laughed Derufin, taking the pitcher of ale from Buttercup and setting it on the table. She raised her brows at him, saying, ‘Best you be able to walk to your room, Master Stabler. You’re too big for us poor Hobbits. We’ll just throw a blanket over you wherever you fall if you get too wobbly from the drink!’ She grinned as she spoke, then went on her way.

‘Now when the night had grown long,' Andwise went on, 'we bid the guests goodnight and went off to our own snug little bed . . . thinking to settle down. Our poor tired heads had barely touched the pillows when the awfullest racket you can imagine began just outside our window . . .’ Andwise paused to relight his pipe and wet his throat before continuing on.

Derufin’s brow puckered. He leaned across the table, wondering what sort of beast had laid siege to the house.

‘No beast,’ returned the Hobbit, chortling; the memory of throwing open the shutters to confront caterwauling making him laugh aloud. ‘It was the shivaree! We’d forgot all about it, we had!’ His laughter stopped short at the perplexed look on Derufin’s face. ‘You’ve heard of it? The shivaree? You've that custom where you’re from, right?’

[Lalwendë]

The wind was in the west and Jinniver felt sure there was a rainstorm approaching. The leaves on the trees were turning their pale undersides to face into the breeze, and it was common knowledge to farmers around Bree that the trees only did this if it were going to rain. Turning to face the west for a moment, as though she could somehow see the rain coming herself, Jinniver frowned. She hurried to fasten her freshly washed clothes to a line, hastily contrived from some of the twine from her pocket belt, and hung in the shelter of the trees behind the old cottage, where rain could not spoil them.

This was the most sheltered spot she could find, and she was anxious that the long tunics she normally wore dried quickly, for she had been forced into wearing her best dress and she felt very self conscious. It was a beautiful thing, cut trom a thick silk of a rich buttermilk colour. The neck, hem and long sleeves were trimmed with a deep line of green and gold braid, and the silk fabric was overlaid with a fine, faint pattern of leaves.

Jinniver was anxious about damaging the dress as it was such a beautiful garment and she began to wonder why she had even brought it with her. It was a fanciful notion that had made her do so; that The Shire might be a place where the hobbits were all fine folk, the kind who would not dream of buying from a rustic, plainly dressed woman. She had nursed this idea since the end of the troubles many years back, and despite what her father and brother had told her to the contrary, she had brought it along anyway. In her opinion, it was always best to be prepared. But now she knew the folk in the Green Dragon, she felt a little embarrassed about sitting down to supper with them dressed in such a manner.

Something else embarrassed her. And this was that she was all too aware that the dress was not loose fitting like her tunics and breeches. It had been given her many years ago, when she was to be married, and in those younger years she was not at all as self conscious as she was now. But she knew there was little she could do about it unless she wanted to hide in her bedchamber all evening and go hungry. And besides, how was she to hang out her washed clothes if she had nothing else to wear.

Sighing to herself, she had put the dress on, and immediately tried to cover it with an old shawl she took from the bottom of her travelling bag. It was threadbare but it was large, and she wrapped it tightly about her shoulders, covering up as much of herself as she could manage. The cook had smirked when she appeared in the kitchens, shrouded in the old shawl and hunched over, shyly asking if she might borrow some hot water and soap to do her laundry. Jinniver had scuttled away quickly, clutching the shawl tightly around her shoulders, and made for the back of the barn so she might do the washing unobserved.

She heard cheerful voices going towards the inn as she stood beneath the trees, and thoughts of supper and ale, a blazing fire and good company, made her hasten with her chore. When she was done, she took up her pocket belt which she had left on the ground. She carried it in her hand, in case any grime from it rubbed onto her skirts; she pulled the shawl tighter as the breeze, which was getting colder, caught it. As she was halfway to the inn, she was sure she felt raindrops.

[Witch_Queen]

Fáinu's words seemed heartless and without emotions. Cree couldn't even attempt a smile because his words went right through her heart like a knife through warm butter. She placed her hand over the bandages of her friend. "Fáinu, that day is now. Do not sit around and let life itself pass you by, if not for be but for yourself. You are so swallowed up in self pity that death could be knocking at your door but he only turns away because deep down in your soul NO ONE IS HOME!" Cree didn't know why she was being so mean to Fáinu. All he had done to her was leave her and deny her everything she ever wanted.

Since she had let Avalon go for some reason Cree found it more irritating to listen as others drown themselves in sorrow and self pity. She would rather spend the rest of her life in Valinor than watch the world kill itself. Her time to take a stand was now. She wasn't going to allow anything to pass her by. In a matter of only moments and hours Cree had changed from a love sick "child" to an elf full of ambition.

"Fáinu, I still care about you despite the fact that you still refuse to accept your destiny. I will always care about you even when you have pushed me away." Cree feared only one thing now and that was that Fáinu would abandon her when she needed him the most. Cree didn't want to leave his side ever, even if her life was to end tomorrow.