The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger with Sam and Rose's children

From where she sat Ginger could see the goings on where the food and drink tables were set and where the band was playing. Sam and Rose’s children sat near her; Hamfast and Goldilocks on her knees leaning up against her, touching the little ivy leaves and red hawthorn berries she was weaving into a chain. The others were busy with small chains of their own, the older children helping the younger. Once long enough she would tie their chains for them and they could wear their pretty and handsome crowns. Her own she was making for Miz Zimzi to wear, a fitting circlet for such a pretty lady.

She looked up just as the band had finished their song. Why there was Ferdy! She waved at him when he looked her way, and he in turned raised his mug to her and smiled. Elanor, a quite precocious young lass, looked from one to the other, missing nothing. ‘Ooh,’ she said, poking her brother Frodo in the ribs. ‘I think they like each other!’ Frodo lad, for his part, rolled his eyes at his sister’s comment. ‘Can I have some of those berries?’ he asked, changing the subject.

[Tevildo]

"Good job, Mushroom." Tevildo purred in admiration and began kneading his front paws against the thick sheepskin mat that stood in front of the hearth. He had to admit that Mushroom had done an excellent job getting back at the annoying Innkeeper who had earlier chased him away from the table. The woman obviously had poor taste and no appreciation of cats!

He continued his kneading motion for several minutes and then stopped abruptly, cautiously surveying the perimeter of the room. Aman was still deep in conversation with various two-leggeds who apparently belonged to Mushroom's family. Since there were a great many of these hobbits in varying sizes, it appeared that the Innkeeper would be kept busy for some time.

Mushroom slunk up to Tevildo's shoulder and whispered in his ear, "That was a really lovely table!"

Tevildo stood his tail upright and puffed out with pride. "I think the path is clear again," he added, gesturing with his head in the direction of the table.

"This time, let's try the back legs. We can scratch there, and no one will notice."

Tevildo nodded in agreement, and the two cats slunk off in tandem. Within a few moments they were again scratching, this time at the rear legs of the table.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling had spent most of the day moving tables and avoiding Aman. The former task had left him with little more than sore arms and a sweaty back, while the latter had left him jumpy. He knew that he had to confront the girl soon, and to tell her that there was simply no hope of their ever being together, but now was not the time. He caught sight of her from time to time, seeing to the preparations and dealing with the many thousand details that attended all such gatherings. At the moment she was fending off a cat and speaking with Master Samwise. Snaveling recognised the Mayor easily from the many likenesses of him that adorned the newer buildings of Minas Tirith, as well as from the careful description of him given by the Lord Elessar. It had been at his last meeting with the King before he rode north that Elessar had told Snaveling that if his travels should bring him to the Shire he should bear to the Great Ones (as he had called them) the King’s personal greeting and love. Snaveling had wondered at the charge, and – seeing this – the King had suggested that speaking with those who had done such deeds despite their relative unimportance would be of benefit to him. Snaveling had not understood then what the King meant, and he did not know, but he suspected that it had something to do with the humility that the King felt lacking in his distant kinsman.

Snaveling decided that any greeting to the Mayor could wait – in particular until he was no longer speaking with Aman. Instead, he turned to find the Elven woman he had seen about the place. He had immediately noticed her, prodded on in part by his memories of his old friend Galadel, who had been of such importance in his transformation at his first visit. But the primary reason he had for seeking the Elven woman out was the hope of news – news of Roa. She had undoubtedly travelled on paths and by ways that were closed or hidden to such as him, or so secretly contrived that very few could find them, and had perhaps founds news of Roa that had escaped him. All the same, he doubted that the Ranger would have used any such paths, if indeed such existed, for there would be no need to do so. Unless he admitted to himself Roa were hiding from something – or from someone. From me. Shaking the thought from his mind he sought about for the Elf.

She was not hard to find, for her voice rose high and clear above those of the lesser folk who had gathered about her. Snaveling was conscious of his appearance as he approached her. He had taken some care in his clothes and now looked much better than he had this morning. His hair was now brushed and lustrous in the sun, and the rubbish had been removed from his clothes. He had removed his ragged cloak and replaced it with a relatively new on of Kendal green that matched the rest of his black raiment. His face still bore the scraggly beard of his travels, but he had done his best to smooth out the tangles. As he got closer to where the Elven woman sat talking with a hobbit lass he was happy to see another Elf nearby. He wondered that he had not noticed her earlier, but then quickly recognised her from the earlier performance. The taller of the two looked at him as he approached and smiled questioningly. Snaveling bowed to the three, saying. “I am sorry if I interrupt your conversation, ladies.”

“Not at all,” the tall Elf reassured him. Then she added, penetratingly, “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Perceptive are the eyes of the Fair folk,” Snaveling replied. “I might reply quite honestly that the company of such folk would be enough for me to intrude, but I must admit I have a particular matter that I wish to pursue with you. But time enough for that in a moment. First, allow me to introduce myself. I am a Man of the South, and kinsman to the King Elessar. I am Tar-Corondir in the realm of Gondor, but in these parts I am known as Snaveling.” And then he added, in the manner taught to him by the King, “Elen
sila lumenn' omentielvo” and hoped that he got the pronunciation correct.

The Elf woman smiled at him and her eyes twinkled like the stars that Snaveling had hoped for. Rising she greeted him in return, saying “You do us honour with the tongue of the Eldar, Tar-Corondir. I am called Mithalwen, and these my friends are Caity and Rasputina. We were taking a brief rest and I, for my part, am learning the ways of handfasting in this land.”

Snaveling bowed to each of the ladies in turn then said, “I do not wish to intrude. If you wish I can return later and ask you my questions then.”

[Encaitare]

Caity eyed the Man who had just joined them. She had seen him about previously, but now he seemed to have cleaned up a bit; his hair was neat and he wore a rich green cloak.

"Nonsense, Mister Snaveling," she said, smiling and deciding that he met her approval. "Please, join us -- if you don't mind sitting on the grass, that is!" She looked from him to her two elven companions, and then continued, "Unless, of course, this is business which does not include simple Hobbits; if such is the case, I will certainly take my leave. I can always use a little more time to practice with the band."

[piosenniel]

The scene in the Green Dragon Inn’s front yard at present . . .

It's a warm, sunny day in the Shire – mid-afternoon.

Preparations for the party are done. The tables are groaning with the plenitude of food brought out to stave off hunger . . . the local Hobbit families continue to arrive, and all of them have brought a special dish or two to share at the party. The staff from the Inn has already brought out great platters of meats and cheeses and baskets of bread for sandwiches along with mustards of all sorts and pickles. Mushroom pasties, jam tarts, and cookies of all sorts.

A number of the kegs have been tapped and tried, much to the satisfaction the thirsty crowds. For those who don't care for ale at the moment, there are pitchers of cold cider, tea, wine of all sorts, and of course, sweet, cold well water.

The three local grannies - Granny Chubb, Granny Oldbuck, and Granny Heathertoes have made their special punch – only for the women at the party. They are fending off, with their stout wooden stirring paddles, those bold lads who try to slip in and steal a taste.

Mayor Samwise and his wife, Rose, and a number of their brood (up to baby Daisy) have arrived for the party. Ginger has volunteered to watch over the main part of the Gardner brood, while Rose and baby Daisy are seated with some other local ladies, enjoying the Grannie’s punch, watching the crowds, and listening to the music. Sam is mingling with the crowd before the ceremony begins.

Gil and his friends, Tomlin, Fallon, and Ferrin are playing and singing on the raised stage near the front of the Inn. They are intermittently joined by Falco Headstrong, Rasputina, Caity, Seamus, and Owen.

[Arry]

Derufin and Zimzi are serenaded . . .

‘Well, now, look who’s coming over!’ Ferrin stood up from the Inn’s steps where he and his companions were talking and joking with Ferdy. The others stood up, too, and opened up their little circle to invite the man and woman in. ‘And aren’t you the lucky one to have this lovely lady on your arm,’ Gil said shaking Derufin’s hand. Zimzi smiled at the compliment and bent down quickly to give the Hobbit a kiss on his crown. ‘For the fair words and the sweet song earlier, Master Gil.’

Tomlin nudged Ferdy as Ferrin and Fallon shook their heads in a knowing manner. ‘Thank goodness you’ve already asked her to marry you,’ said Tomlin, in a loud whisper to Derufin. ‘Look how he’s gone all moony!’ Derufin laughed and pulled Zimzi a bit closer. ‘What’s this I hear,’ he said fixing Gil with his eyes. ‘You’ve been singing to my lady?’

Gil flushed and for once was at a loss for words, but Zimzi jabbed Derufin lightly in the side, turning to face him. ‘He sings quite well . . . and well, you don’t . . .’ Derufin’s brows raised. ‘I’ve heard you singing to the horses, you’ll remember.’

‘How about we sing them that song we worked up for the occasion?’ Ferrin had run quickly to where they’d left their instruments. Gil’s concertina was under one arm, the two fiddles in each hand, and his own hand drum balanced on his head. He motioned to Falco to bring his whistle. ‘I think you’ll know the tune – it’s The Star of County Down. We’ve changed the words a bit . . . for the couple, you know,’ he said nodding toward where Derufin and Zimzi stood talking with the others.

They stood on the steps, with Gil in front. Tomlin and Fallon opened with a playthrough on their fiddles of the chorus, then Gil came in on his concertina, repeating the chorus once again with Falco’s piping weaving in and out. Ferrin kept up the beat with his little drum and the counter tapping of his foot.

With a nod to the couple who stood listening, Gil sang out in his fair voice . . .

Near Bywater town, in the County Down
One morning in July
Down a pathway green came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by.
She looked so sweet from her two white feet
To the sheen of her nut-brown hair
Such a coaxing elf, I shook myself
To make sure I was standing there.

* From Belfalas Bay up to Mithlond Quay
And from Greenholm to Rushy town
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen
That I met in the County Down.

As she onward sped I shook my head
And I gazed with a feeling rare
And I said, says I, to a passerby
"who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"
He smiled at me, and with pride says he,
"That's the gem of Lindon’s crown.
She's Zimziran from the banks of the Lune
She's the star of the County Down."

* From Belfalas Bay up to Mithlond Quay
And from Greenholm to Rushy town
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen
That I met in the County Down.

I've traveled a bit, but never was hit
Since my roving career began
But fair and square I surrendered there
To the charms of Zimziran.
I'd a heart to let and no tenant yet
Did I meet with in shawl or gown
But in she went and I asked no rent
From the star of the County Down.

* From Belfalas Bay up to Mithlond Quay
And from Greenholm to Rushy town
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen
That I met in the County Down.

At the crossroads fair I'll be surely there
And I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
And I'll try sheep's eyes, and deluding lies
On the heart of the nut-brown rose.
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
Though with rust my plow turns brown
Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down.

* From Belfalas Bay up to Mithlond Quay
And from Greenholm to Rushy town
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen
That I met in the County Down.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling put out a hand as though to stay the hobbit lass. “No, do not go. It is true that my queries have to do with matters beyond the borders of the Shire, but I would not have you leave on that account. I have been to this land before and I am well acquainted with the folk of it. One of them,” he decided it best not to name Toby, “I account my greatest friend. And if these are not reasons enough to prevent my discourtesy to you, I have been urged by my King to seek out the company of Halflings whenever possible, for he feels that I have much to learn from you.”

Caity looked surprised at this. “The King said that, did he?” she asked. “Well I can’t imagine what the likes of us could have to teach a Man like you. Are you really kinsman to the King?”

“We are of the same lineage, I am told, but the connection is one so distant in time that it hardly bears the title of kinship. The King could easily forswear me, but for his nobility and the honour of his line. I have myself only recently become aware of the relation. Do not let the richness of my clothes – travel-stained as they may be – fool you into thinking that I am a grand Man of the Court. I am from somewhat more…humble circumstance. My own land is not all that different from the Shire, really, although it has been long since I lived there. But do not let me interrupt your conversation, my own questions can wait. You were, I believe speaking of the handfasting that is to take place today?”