The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[piosenniel]

Buttercup and Marigold in the kitchen with Uien

‘And just what are you doing here, sitting on the floor, little missy?’

Buttercup had just delivered the message to Falowik and was on her way back to the kitchen when she saw the little girl with her mop of yellow curls settle down by the door. She crouched down, so as to be on the same level as the girl and looked her over. Very pretty, she thought. She asked the lass her name.

‘Marigold . . . Baker . . .,’ came the soft and hesitant reply.

‘Well, Miss Marigold, my name is Buttercup.’ She gave the child her hand and brought her to her feet. ‘Today’s no day for Hobbits to be sitting about. There’s work to be done . . . a party to get ready for.’ She walked slowly through the door to the kitchen, chattering all the while to Marigold. ‘We’ll just get you some lunch, I think. Unless you’ve already eaten, of course. And then I was wondering if you might help me pile bread in the little baskets for the food table.’

Buttercup drew the child over to one of the empty chairs and urged her to take a seat. ‘This is Cook,’ she said in introduction. ‘Marigold’s come to help with the bread baskets.’ Cook nodded and poured the girl a small mug of cold cider. ‘And this is Uien,’ she said nodding toward the Elf. Marigold’s eyes she noted went wide as Uien smiled at her. ‘One of the Fair Folk she is. Used to work here at the Inn . . . that is til she went off adventuring with her Mister.’

Buttercup brought out a little tray of thick ham and cheese sandwiches and plunked them down in the middle of the three women, big and little. ‘Pass the cider round, won’t you Uien. And Marigold go ahead and take a sandwich. Workers eat for free today . . .’

[Encaitare]

The band by now had grown considerably, featuring all different sorts of people; however, Caity thought that they sounded pretty good, considering that they had never played together before. But then, hobbit tunes were simple and well-known, and it was easy for even those who had never heard the song to catch on shortly.

As she played on her pennywhistle, her stomach growled, reminding her that she had never eaten breakfast. She hoped she could grab some food soon. Yet the thought was interrupted as the little monkey caught her eye -- already he was dancing to the music! Caity held in her laughter as best she could as the monkey continued his antics. Eventually she had to look away so as to avoid throwing the whole group off.

Instead, her eyes settled on the elf in the large hat. Her outfit was strange, but in a good way, and she really wanted to ask her about the large instrument she was playing so deftly.

Happily taking in the beauty of the scene, with the motley band playing along, the jolly hobbits "testing" the ale, and the festive decorations, Caity did not find it surprising that Shimshin was dancing. She rather felt like dancing herself, but satisfied herself by making sure that her playing was perfect.

[littlemanpoet]

"There you are, Falowik!" a female voice as good as shouted. Falowik turned. One of the serving girls. He had never quite gotten their names. "Your skinny Elf Lady Uien is waiting for you in the kitchen!"

"Thank you!" he smiled as she motioned for him to follow her.

Uien was sitting at table across from a little hobbit lass all in blonde curls, pleased as punch to be the center of attention.

"Ah, there you are," Uien said. "Sit and be fed. I was just getting ready to tell Cook and Buttercup here what you and I have been doing these past few months, and they think I'm no longer the waif I looked last I was here, thanks to you."

Falowik grinned. So it was Buttercup. He mentally thanked Uien for the name, and she winked back at him as he took his place at table. There was a plate of ham and cheese sandwiches set before them, and his mouth watered quickly.

"You first, Uien," he said.

"Or I'll get none, is that it?"

"Hobbits do make good fare, better than we've had since we left the Shire."

"If you like man-food," Uien returned.

"Hobbit food's better!" Cook corrected. "I've 'eard of what they eat, and it don't compare to what's served at the Green Dragon."

"Of course not!" Falowik assured her.

"Are you an Elf too?" The little hobbit lass's eyes were wide, looking at him.

He swallowed his first mouthful. "Oh, no," he answered with a smile. "I'm a Man."

"Are you handfasted?" little Marigold asked him.

Falowik almost choked and coughed, and Uien snickered in her hand. He cleared his throat. "No. Men and Elves do not - um - handfast." Falowik was not used to the term.

"Some have," Uien murmured, half smiling.

"Why not?" little Marigold asked.

Falowik had all the answers to these questions firmly in mind, but not in a hobbit lass's speech. He looked at her blankly.

"It looks like you're finished with your cider and sandwich, Marigold, eh?" Buttercup asked, winking at Falowik. The girl nodded. "What do you say to helping me with those breadfbaskets now?"

"Yay!" the girl cried, and climbed down from her chair, eager to help Buttercup. Falowik made to wipe his brow in relief. Uien was half smiling.

Cook was at the stoves, chuckling, and said, "Now tell me what you two've been up to while you've been away."

Falowik and Uien related how they'd gone to Eryn Lasgalen with the Elven women, Lumiel and Eswen, who had accompanied them into the hills of Evendim, to bring home Lira, who had given her life in the quest. Then they had gone to Lothlorien, Uien's former home, and she had shown Falowik all the fair sights to be seen there, now almost emptied of Elves. They had come back across the mountains and stopped in Rivendell, then returned to Bree, where Falowik had been born. They had just been starting to have their first debate about where they would settle down when Uien had, on a whim, sent her thought to the Shire.

"An Elf from this Inn felt my thought, and it was thus that I learned of Derufin and Zimzi's handfasting."

"Ach, the ways of Elves are beyond me!" Cook said.

"I stand with you on that," Falowik said.

"Where is Derufin, Miss Bunce?" Uien asked.

[Oddwen]

Berulo had helped as much as he could with the moving of furniture when he was done eating, and was now helping to "test" the ale. It was a fine proper year, but it wouldn't do to make any mistakes and ruin the party, would it?

After the ale had been tested every which way to Sunday, Berulo walked back into the Inn to see if there was anything left to be carried out. Vaguely, he remembered a bunch of women's work needing to be done, and then there was food...lovely, glorious food.

He let his nose carry him to what he thought might be the kitchen. And he hadn't had any second breakfast, and he had been hauling tables all morning...

And imagine his suprise when he saw an Elf in the kitchen, making sandwiches!

"Er," he began. "Er, ahem, um..."

"Well?" said the hobbit Cook. "What do you want, young man?"

"Pardon me ma'am, sir, lady," he said. "Is there anything to carry out yet?"

[THE Ka]

Rasputina's shyness seemed to melt like an icefloat in a south sea when she was around these people. When she played at home, everyone was silent and gave the notion of an almost depressed atmosphere. Though, she did not doubt that her kin loved to hear and see her cello, something they took into great admeration due to their Noldor background. So too was with the company she now kept, who surprisingly knew and played songs that were easy for her to accompany. They were foreign to her less 'merry' sonata's, but they were very interesting. Some seemed almost pure nonsense, one was about a dog and a kettle! Very foreign indeed but, she was intrigued none the less.

In the small audience that gathered, Rasputina suddenly spotted a familiar sight - another of her people it seemed was there. Blinking again, she saw that the guest wasn't but, did look like her people of Eryn Vorn. It seemed that they were listening to her, something she found very strange since she doubted any other elve knew or had heard her cello, unless they had the chance or will to visit the dark wood. Still the same, it was nice to see another. One of the musicians named 'Gil' asked their name, and to Rasputina, sounded of far origin to her own people but, was beautiful. Mithalwen, as she was called was asked If she wanted to contribute. Rasputina listened anyway she could for an answer, but lost her concentration when someone began to play again. She was curious If this vistor carried one of the 'fabled' Lyres of Lothlorien. Her people had only one among them, and was cherished like a holy relic among pilgrims. Whatever the answer, it would come later.

Some of the more local musicians, one of which would take glances at her hat, which she didn't mind. The friend who had given her the invitation mentioned some ways of 'blending in' with this enimatic folk. If Rasputina had come without this information, she would have seemed bizzare even to an elve. This is due to, over time, when her people decided that their temporary 'hide away' was going to be permanent, many new customs were adpoted. Mostly due to the enviroment itself. Her people either wore nothing but white to help in the darkness, or they wore dark colours if they were especially fair. Either way, it was easier to find each other. Their clothing was influenced mainly by the sea views available of that region and the type of trees that made up the forest. But, most strange of all, they didn't ware any shoes or see the need to. This was mainly influenced by the conditions that they arrived in. There were some shoes and boots that were crafted but, mainly out of boredom. When she left home, the products of people's boredom became something of a new experience. In first few days, her feet began to complain about these new coverings. They still did now and then but, were not as bad.

After a song, Rasputina felt that she should take a minute to get to know some of these people alittle more. The first was a hobbit named Caity. She was very interesting to converse with and soon became more than an aqqaintance. As they were talking, Rasputina felt that something was after her hat. It was strange at first. Why would someone want to take her hat? If it pleased them to see it or wear it, all they had to do was ask...

She soon put the thought away, and continued to talk. As soon as another song was being performed, the feeling came again and Rasputina was suspicious. Looking around she didn't see anything that would provoke the thought to bother her. Then, as she was about to take wand to string, something leaped up and grabbed the hat, landing on the stage. Rasputina looked down to find a monkey who had been dancing before, with her hat on, completely covering its' head. She first smiled then burst into sheer laughter. It looked like nothing she had seen before, and the creature was oddly adoreable. it slowley raised the hat off its' head, and stared up at her with concern. It seemed the monkey thought she was going to kill it or some other rash punishment but, she just smiled and asked nicely for it back. She petted its head and said that it needed only to ask next time.

She then began to play again...

[Tevildo]

Tevildo kept a wary eye on all the bustle and preparations that were going on that morning. He had successfully avoided the hound Huan and the other funny creature who went by the name of Shimshins. The latter seemed to be attracting a lot of attention from the two-leggeds, who apparently didn't know any better than to spend their time fawning over a silly-looking animal who couldn't even walk properly on all four legs.

Instead the cat had found a spot where no one would bother him, a high perch on the mantle that stood near the hearth where he could curl up in a ball and spy on everyone. For the next two hours, he had stared down at the various volunteers who were finishing up their preparations for the handfasting and the party, occasionally letting out a howl which was meant to encourage them to work faster. Once when a small mouse tried to poke his nose out of a hole in the wooden panelling under the bar, Tevildo had jumped down and chased him back inside with a stern admonition not to come out until the festivities were over.

Still, he was beginning to get bored. He was not overly fond of manual labor. That sort of thing was best left to Mistress Ellie and the other two-leggeds who were visiting the Inn. It was then that he spied the silly lad who had earlier tried to surprize him by sneaking up without a warning. He was the one who went by the name of Willy---a short lad, even shorter than Mistress Hawthorne who had been working at Ellie's side for much of the morning.

Tevildo was seized by a sudden desire to teach the nasty lad a lesson about his rude behavior. The young Hobbit was sitting and listening to the music. He had slipped off his jacket and tossed it casually over on the ground and was not paying any attention to it. And what a nice jacket it was! Just the sort of lovely thick cloth that Tevildo would enjoy ripping to shreds. Tiptoeing over on velvet paws, the cat quietly approached the jacket and unsheathed his claws. He jumped up on top of it and merrily began to claw at the sleeve.....

[piosenniel]

Cook, Buttercup, and Uien . . .

‘Where is Derufin, Miss Bunce?’ Uien asked. Buttercup and Cook looked at each other and then away. Cook snorted and pointed her thumb toward the door to her rooms just off the kitchen. ‘He’s in there, Master Derufin is, and probably sawing logs on my clean quilt!’

Uien looked at her, a perplexed expression on her face. ‘Sawing logs? What a mess that would make.’ She tilted her head as if listening for the sound of saw against wood.

Cook laughed at her expression. ‘Figure of speech, my dear! I’d call him a “poor man” save for the fact he did this to himself.’

Buttercup butted in, wanting to get in on the conversation. ‘She means to tell you he’s sleeping off the drink he managed to down last night with Mistress Zimzi’s brothers. Last night of freedom and all that nonsense. He looks like death warmed over, at least he did an hour or so ago when the brothers brought him into the kitchen and left us to deal with him.’

‘I’ve given him some willowbark tea, fed him, and made him lie down for a while,’ said Cook. ‘The handfasting’s not til later this afternoon; we hope to have him back on is feet by then.’

‘Either that,’ said Buttercup with a knowing nod, ‘or Cook will string him up by the thumbs for ruining the day.’ Buttercup looked at Uien and chewed her lip a bit, trying to remember something. ‘Say . . . Uien . . . wasn’t it you that had a sort of healing gift?’ she nodded toward the closed door behind which the snoring and bedraggled Derufin lay. ‘You think you could do a little Elven magic and set him right again?’

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Cook sends Berulo out with a plateful of food and a mug of hot tea . . .

Before Uien could answer, a young Hobbit lad poked his head in through the doors. ‘Anything else needs to go out to the yard,’ he asked, his eyes fixed on Cook.

Cook motioned for him to come in. It was a Hobbit just out of his tweens from Bree. Very polite, Cook thought approvingly. Ma must have taught him some good manners, indeed! Berulo Rushlight was his name, he said, going on to say that the tables and chairs were all moved and arranged. And how he was a bit hungry now, but if there were anything else needed he would be happy to do that first.

‘I think the ladies will finish the rest of the getting ready for the party,’ Cook told him. ‘You’ve done enough, I think. And it’s much appreciated.’ she got up from her chair and got a clean plate from the cupboard. A few moments later, and she had it piled high with thick ham and cheese sandwiches, a juice apple, and had given him a hot mug of tea laced with honey to wash it down. ‘You go on out to the yard with the other lads and relax a bit and enjoy yourself. Eat up, drink your tea, and listen to the music. I’m sure they’ve tapped the kegs by now . . .’ Berulo nodded at her, a grin on his face. ‘We can think about cleaning up and hauling the tables back in once the party’s all done. For now, just enjoy yourself, Master Rushlight!’