The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Nurumaiel]

Though Falco did not show it, he was very annoyed, and even slightly angry. He was angry with himself, for having ever relented as much as he did to the Elf, but he was angrier with her. His mood, which had been improving, had once again grown sullen and grumpy. When he had arrived at the home where Camille dwelt with her family, and seen small Rory looking from one to the other, unable to walk, he had felt his heart go out to the boy, and had blessed Camille for giving him the task of bringing her brother home. And then that Elf had taken two long strides and lifted up the boy in her arms without a word. It was more than Falco could bear. He wanted to carry little Rory to the Inn. Camille had asked him to do it.

There was no doubt in his mind that, if he were a little boy feeling so grievously wronged and going to his mother for consolation, she would have looked at him with a gentle little smile, saying: "Now, Falco, don't you think that is just a wee bit ridiculous?" Perhaps she would think so, and perhaps they would all think so, but to him it was no small matter. He had wanted to carry that frail little body up to the Inn. It was partly because Camille had asked him, Falco Headstrong, to do it, and he had agreed, but it was more because of his constant longing to help the little weak things. That longing would have merely made him regret that he had not moved to help before the Elf, but he experienced anger rather than regret, because he felt he should have been the one. He had been asked.

Conversation with Rory's mother had helped him refrain from his sour looks towards the Elf, but even that pleasant conversation had been a slight wear on his nerves. He could not casually converse, but he was compelled to cautiously converse. He wanted to say nothing of his plans for helping the family, for fear of making her stiffen at the thought of receiving 'charity.'

When they arrived at the Inn he was pleased to see that, after placing Rory next to Marigold on the window-seat, the Elf left. Now Falco would take full advantage of the situation. He would make up for having his duty stolen from him. He would sit by Rory, talk to Rory, play with Rory, and he would not leave Rory's side for the rest of the evening. He would make sure he was always there first to attend to Rory, even if it meant he had to scamper like a hare to match the Elf's long, graceful steps. Come to think of it... that Elf had stopped him from helping that Big Folk fellow by helping him herself. Would she never let him, Falco Headstrong, show an act of kindness? Was she so jealous of letting others be kind?

"It's not me," he muttered viciously, crushing the thought that flashed through his mind. "I'm not in the least jealous of the kind things she has done. If she went and did something of her own accord I would be very pleased that she had done so. But she has only ever stepped in front of me to do what I had already offered and agreed to do."

"Now, Falco, don't you think that is just a wee bit ridiculous?" came a gentle voice, echoing softly from his past.

He grit his teeth, and before going to the window-seat to sit with Rory and Marigold, muttered: "No, Mother, I don't."

[Envinyatar]

‘I have heard,’ said Derufin, leaning toward Benat, ‘that you hail from north up the Anduin. I’ve never been farther north on that river than Minas Tirith.’ He drew his index finger through the puddle of condensation left on the wooden surface of the table by his mug. ‘It’s a wide river there, with some swift currents that run in the middle channels. But for the most part it runs lazily down to the bay between widening banks. What is it like, further north . . . much the same?’

Zimzi drew her chair closer to Derufin’s. She too was eager to know about the place where such a giant of a man hailed. She had come from Lindon, and Bywater was the furthest east she had ever come. Derufin leaned back in his chair putting his arm about her shoulders and pulling her near in a comfortable embrace. She snuggled in against him, her dark eyes on Benat’s face. ‘Is there a Missus at home?’ she asked, thinking how lucky a woman would be to have such a strong, gentle man with such merriment in his eyes. ‘Someone waiting for your return?’

[Huan]

Anyopâ came down the stairs from his room, pausing on the landing before taking the final flight. The smoke and heat from the common room crept up the steps; it curled about his boots, and he felt as if he stood on the summit of some mountain, its head peeking just above the wispy clouds.

He had taken a short nap during the afternoon, rousing from sleep as his room darkened with the westering sun. Someone of the servants had kindly left him a pitcher of water and a towel and wash cloth. He’d laved his hands and face, running his fingers through his dark hair as he drew it back from his face and tied it with a leather thong. Refreshed, he had put on a clean linen tunic, drawing over it a plain, dark leather vest. His large pack he left on his bed, but in his smaller rucksack he stashed his chapbook, pen and ink. On his belt hung a small leathern pouch and into it he put a handful of coin. He hoped to make the acquaintance of one or two of the others staying at the Inn. He was interested in learning about other places and peoples.

Near the fireplace, he spied the tall, large man he had seen earlier in the common room. He was now seated at a table with several others. A man and woman . . . married, he thought; another man, speaking with one of the Fair Folk and a yellow haired fellow who stood by her side. The yellow haired man had a pair of new leather boots in his hands and had given them to the other fellow, who in turn was now trying them on. And now another one of the Fair Folk, another lady, had approached the first Elf and was speaking with her. It was an altogether interesting mix of people . . . or so it seemed to him.

Descending to the floor of the common room, Anyopâ stopped one of the servers he had met earlier in the day – Ginger, he recalled. A short conversation with her and a quiet request brought him soon to the table by the fireplace. She introduced him, saying he was a newcomer to the Dragon and to the Shire, and would they be so kind as to make room for him at their table.

He bowed slightly as he was introduced, placing one hand lightly on the back of an unoccupied chair. ‘With your permission,’ he said. ‘I would very much enjoy sharing your company for the evening meal.’

[samsmyhero]

Denegal had worked with a good spirit all the afternoon, enjoying the comradery with which hard manual labor can endow a group of strangers, fast now becoming friends. By evening, they had accomplished more than was to be expected and they headed off to the inn for a well deserved rest and supper. Denegal had stopped long enough at the stable to ascertain that Falowik and Uien had left, the stall in which they had been working tidied up and the tools gone. Perhaps they have taken themselves off for a break and a moment alone, Denegal thought to himself. He was brimming with pleasure at the thought of the new boots. His slippers, now much begrimed and with a tear in one toe, leaving it dangling in a woe-begone fashion, would not take much abuse as work shoes. They were meant for finer things! He smiled to himself as he thought of the assuredly once proud owner sashaying around in them.

Derufin and Zimzi played host to Benat and Denegal, and the four made a merry party as they ordered their food and then had a relaxing smoke, at least the men. Denegal had not had much experience with pipeweed, it still being somewhat of a luxury in Minas Tirith, and even scarcer in the southern provinces where he had grown up. But the scent was pleasant, even if he felt the need to cough. He was just settling down to it, when Falowik and Uien appeared.

Jumping up from the table, Denegal nearly upset Benat’s mug of ale. Cullen, who had wrapped his enormous frame as best he could around his master’s feet under the table, gave a start and whined inquiringly as to the cause for the commotion. “It’s alright boy!” Denegal said cheerfully. “They’re my friends.” Cullen thumped his tail expectantly, thinking they might be the bearers of a nice bowl of that delicious smelling coney stew. Denegal himself had a similar air of expectancy, and he stared intently at the two.

Falowik and Uien apparently had the acquaintance of the groundskeeper and his wife - his new wife from the sound of things. As Uien proceeded to introduce herself and Falowik to Benat, Denegal was practically hopping from foot to foot, wondering about the boots. But he politely waited until greetings were exchanged all around. Falowik, sensing the young man’s impatience, was tempted to drag things out even longer. However, seeing the moist sheen of Denegal’s eyes, indeed like a dog awaiting a bone, he took pity on him, and, stepping forward announced “We have a small gift for Denegal.” He pulled the boots from behind his back and held them out. “Try them on, Denegal.”

A wide smile split Denegal’s face, as he sat and quickly removed the outrageous slippers from his feet. Lovingly, he ran his hands over the supple leather of the boots and then placed them on the floor. He slipped first one then the other onto his feet. They fit perfectly! He grinned up at Falowik and Uien, who smiled back. “Perfect! They’re perfect!” he proclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of those seated nearby. “How can I ever thank you?” Denegal stood and strode several paces, feeling the fit and give of the leather. Coming back to the table, he gripped Falowik’s hand and gave it a mighty shake. “Thank you, friend! And you, Uien.” He turned to the gracious elf, and then hesitated, not knowing if it were proper to shake her hand. Sensing his uncertainty, Uien smiled at him and stepped forward, giving him a warm hug. “It was our pleasure, to help you out. And I still expect to hear a tale this evening.”

Denegal was completely flabbergasted at this unexpected embrace. Falowik smiled to himself, completely understanding the young man’s confusion. “We enjoyed the making of them. It is good to be able to work with the hands, creating something out of nothing. They are not fancy, but they will wear well and should last a good while.” He clapped his hand on Denegal’s shoulder. “Now, Uien, shall we order some supper?”

“Well, young man, seems you have acquired some new footwear. And Cullen here has adopted the old!” Benat chuckled and pointed under the table. All looked and saw the dog resting his huge head on the worn slippers as if on a down pillow.

“He’s most welcome to them!” Denegal laughed. “I daresay they’re more fit for a dog than a man.”

[littlemanpoet]

Uien and Falowik had just settled down at table with Derufin, Zimzi, Denegal and Benat, when Mithalwen came up to them with a pleasant greeting for all; but Uien heard in her mind the thought of the Elf-woman of Lindon.

Uien, you are a healer , may I have your counsel...?

Uien nodded to Mithalwen, rose and excused herself, and followed her across the Common Room to a pair of young hobbit folk sitting in a window seat, with a grown up hobbit who was scowling mighitly at the two Elf-women as they approached. The little hobbit lass was as cute as a button, and the boy would have been in boyish fashion except for his weak and bent legs. Uien's heart went out to him. Then the grown up hobbit's thoughts raged loudly within range of her perception.

Falco Headstrong, you are jealous of the Elf woman and you know it. It's not me, I'm not in the least jealous of the kind things she has done. If she went and did something of her own accord I would be very pleased that she had done so. But she has only ever stepped in front of me to do what I had already offered and agreed to do. Now, Falco, don't you think that is just a wee bit ridiculous? No, Mother, I don't.

Uien sent her thought to Mithalwen. There is more healing to be done here than one pair of legs. Mithalwen nodded, a little wide-eyed at the not so well disguised rage of Falco.

"Hello, Marigold," Uien said. "I remember you from yesterday, so curious about marriage. Did you get all your questions answered?"

"No, but I will!"

Uien laughed. "Hello, Rory. Would you like some help from us, and Mr. Headstrong here, to see if we can help make your legs stronger?"

He nodded shyly, and Uien smiled warmly, holding her tears of sympathy back with all her will. She turned to the irascible hobbit with the good heart.

"Good day to you, Mr. Falco Headstrong. I am Uien of Lorien."

"Hullo," he said curtly, suspicion in his eye.

"I have been known to help a few folk who were ill, to become well again."

"Rory's not sick," Falco protested, "he just cannot walk."

Uien nodded. "I think it admirable that you want to help Rory. I would like to also, and so would Mithalwen. Do you think there is some way the three of us might work together to do that?"

[Sett]

Galither was about to begin the story as he had the finest pipe weed in the land and all the ale he could want but there was something missing. He needed some atmosphere to give him motivation to tell the two hobbits the story so he asked them if they wanted to go inside.

“Its rather quiet out here you mind if we go inside as it is more cosy in there?” Galither asked

“Okay I think it would be nice to hear the rest of your story in a relaxing environment” Replied Hamfast

The three of them then grabbed their ale and walked into the inn. It was now livelier than before and anyone could tell that it was evening by the merry atmosphere of the hobbits and men inside. Much laughter spread across the room as Galither scanned the room searching for a seat for the three of them. He noticed a lone table in the corner of the room. It was darker than the other seats but they had no choice if they wanted a whole table to themselves.

They sat down, Galither on his own and the two hobbits sat in the opposite side of the table. Galither was still chugging on the pipe weed as it passed through his lungs with such softness that it did not feel as brisk as the usual pipe weed he smokes.

“We were invited back to our kinsmen home for the nights shelter before we continued north. It was a cosy little village far east from here. The inn there was very lively. The women were very elegant as they almost floated around handing out the ale to the rough and scraggly looking men that sat in each booth. They really made you feel like a king while you were there. The finest meat we had ever tasted was cooked nice and medium for my bitter taste buds. We feasted all night until our belts felt tight on our stomach.

Later that night we were treated to dancing in the town centre. The lantern that was producing the light for everyone was immense. No one slept that night for they all drank for victory that day against the hordes of goblins that emerged from the darkness in northern moria. We sat up and gazed at the stars without a care in the world. It felt so calm. I had more inner peace than I ever hoped to achieve. Falmir spilt all four pints over my clean trench coat; he was that unaware of his surroundings. I think he was really enjoying himself even though he puts on a façade most of the time.

We woke up the next morning in the very centre of the town. We had become so drunk that we feared for what we may have got up to. The maids that were clearing the place up were giving giggles to each other at the sight of the men.

“What did we do last night?” Falmir asked

The three of us all gave each other looks of emptiness for none of them knew what had gone on that night. We thought that our best plan of action would be to sneak off early to allow things to die down. Then we would be able to return in a few days after their current mission and find out just what we did.

We swiftly gathered all our belongings and scampered down the pathway to the north track towards the destination. It took a few hours until we reached a rather green hill. No flowers could be found here it was completely flat. Upon reaching the top of this hill however we become knowledgeable of why this was so. Another skirmish was taking place down the other side of this hill. No humans were here this time though as it were two rival goblins starting a fight upon each other. We strafed around the violence trying not to be noticed as this was going to be very incontinent if we were to get caught. Silently we crept along the heath avoiding all branches and folly that could make noise for if the goblins were to be alerted of our presence then we would surely suffer a fate without mercy.

It was successful; we made the destination without a scratch. It was absolutely beautiful. We stood in awe over this glimpse of heaven. Never before had such purity been coexistent with the world. It felt like something unearthly for such beauty cannot survive in such horrors that corrupt this world surely.

Well there we have it the mission was complete. They stayed there merely to behold the beauty that the item offered until removing themselves from the place and continued back to Gondor. Along their way back they again passed the village they stayed at before.”

Galither was interrupted by Hamfast who was running low on ale and implored Galither to take a break so that he could fill himself up with the good stuff again.

Galither lit up more pipe weed to give him the motivation to finish the story. When Hamfast returned to the booth with the drinks Galither was preparing to continue once again.