The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Primrose Bolger]

Miz Bracegirdle is served her supper . . .

Ginger cut a large wedge of mushroom pie and putting it on a plate, popped it into the warming oven above the stove. Next came a bowl of steaming chicken stew filled with plump pieces of meat and good sized chunks of carrots and taters and onions and green peas. That, too, got put in the warmer while she sliced off a couple of thick pieces of warm crusty bread to put in a small cloth covered basket.

A small pot of sweet cream butter and another of thick, sweet/tart gooseberry jam were placed on a tray, along with a mug of cold apple cider, the bread, and the tableware wrapped in a clean napkin. She was just about to get out the hot food out when a little voice pulled her attention toward the kitchen door.

And there was Ferdy, standing just across the room from her, smiling a foolish smile. At his side was the source of the words. One of the little lads from the common room. He was looking up at Ferdy and nodding his head. ‘They are real purty, her reddish curls and all. But I still can’t see her freckles.’ He peered up at Ginger as she came closer to them, wiping her hands on the towel that hung on her apron. ‘He says you’re his “heart’s own”, Ferdy did,’ said Willi taking a good look at her. ‘I never saw one of those.’ Now it was Willi’s turn to flush a little as Ginger smiled at him and reached out to tousle his curls. ‘But, gosh, I guess he’s right about it.’

There was an awkward moment of silence as Ginger smiled at Ferdy. Then, Ginger took the little boy’s hand and marched him over to where she was putting together Miz Bracegirdle’s supper. ‘Ferdy,’ she said, ‘if you’ll help him wash his paws up a bit, he can help me with this last order. Then maybe we can sit down and share a cup of cider ourselves.’

Face and hands washed, curls pushed back from his red-cheeked face, and his shirt tucked in so he looked like a proper server of the Inn, Willi took the small plate that held the square of spice and raisin cake solemnly in his two chubby hands. Ferdy held the door for them as Ginger led the way with the tray of hot, savory food. Ferdy followed up with the mug of cider in hand.

The stew and mushroom pie were placed in front of the old Hobbit along with the basket of bread, the pots of butter and jam readily at hand. Ferdy plunked down the mug of cold cider, saying he hoped she would enjoy her supper. Last came Willi who carefully slid the cake plate onto the table and nudged it toward Thistle. ‘Yes, ‘njoy,’ he echoed. ‘And especially the cake,’ he whispered. ‘Got more raisins’n a anthill got ants.’ He turned a bit shy and backed off, intending to let the lady eat.

His eye caught her substantial cane leaning against a chair near her at the table. It reminded him of the stories his Da had told him of when the ruffians made trouble right here in Bywater. It was a grand story . . . exciting and scary at the same time, even though he knew in the end the Hobbits would win out.

‘Ooh! Nice cane, Miz Bracirdle!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Bet you gave those old ruffians a good thump when they was here . . . you and Master Merry and Master Pippin . . .’

[Undómë]

Seated nearby was a table of Shire folk and one of the biggest men Hob had ever seen. Now Girdley Island was on the north eastern boundary of the Shire, and there were many different folk that passed through the small inn there. The Cottonwood Inn had rangers of all sorts and sizes that frequented it, some rougher looking than others, though most of them tall and wiry in build. And there were the Men from the nearby farms. Broad built and muscular, they enjoyed their ale and the hearty fare the cook there served. The very occasional Elf, there was that visited, but they were quiet folk and moved on quickly. All of them heading west.

And once there had been a pair of Dwarfs. Sturdy fellows on their way north to see to some old mines they’d heard of up there. No wizards - that he had heard of. Though once a fellow cloaked all in brown had may his way across the bridge to the island. He’d left a wounded goose he’d found in the woods nearby. Mended its wing and asked the Innkeeper to look after it. Still waddled about the Inn yard, that goose. Cook never took the axe to it, didn’t have the heart to. She said it always seemed to be looking for something or someone.

But a big fellow, like the one he was looking at now, now that was something they’d not seen on Girdley.

There was another fellow at the big man’s table, one of the Big Folk, but not as large as the other. He too was leaning forward, looking as if he had just asked a question and was waiting for an answer. Hob’s tablemates were busy discussing the success of the Spring lambing and gave him a friendly wave when he excused himself, saying he thought he saw someone he knew. He made his way to the big fellow’s table and stood at the edge until someone scooted a chair out for him, inviting him to sit down.

The man who had looked as if he’d asked a question, spoke up again. ‘What about this ‘bear’ you spoke of?’

Ah, thought Hob, a good hunting story! He settled in to listen . . .

[Noinkling]

Benat nodded as the new Hobbit settled in. Anyopâ had asked his question again and the full attention of the table was now focused on how he might answer. Benat, himself, was wondering how to answer the man’s question without causing too much alarm. It had become quite evident to him that few, if any, had heard of the Beornings here in the Shire. And good folk as they were, still he wondered how they would view something so familiar to him and yet so unordinary if not unthinkable to them. He decided to begin with the story of how Gandalf had brought Mister Bilbo and the Dwarfs to the land about the Carrock.

He was well into the story, pleased with himself, since they had some knowledge of it and seemed to be enjoying it. They’d asked where the Carrock was and he’d explained about the northern parts of The Great River, the Anduin. Bigger and rougher than the Brandywine he’s told them . . . and deep enough for small ships to pass up it for a ways. They’d shivered as he spoke to them of the nearness of the old forest, called Mirkwood, then, he’d said. ‘Just to the east of us, and filled with shadow and all manner of dark things.’ They’d nodded at this, being familiar with the Old Forest near Buckland.

‘And to the west were The Misty Mountains . . . a warren of tunnels and caves all used for many long years by the great hordes of goblins and Orcs and other foul and dangerous creatures,’ he told them.

‘Have mercy,’ murmured Maddy, shaking his head at the grim picture. ‘Seems like you were caught in the grips of a vise – bad ‘uns to the left and right of you! How ever did you and your folk survive?’

‘We had the advantage of being bigger and stronger and more ferocious as need be than our foe,’ Benat went on. He took a good sized swig of his ale, then continued. ‘We’re Skinchangers, my folk . . . and I.’

There were looks of confusion on the faces of his tablemates. ‘Let me explain . . .’ They were only a small number living in that dangerous place, but they had the ability to change at will into great Bears with keen eyes and noses, and very sharp teeth and claws. They patrolled the borders of their little land and for many lives of their folks they had kept their holdings and families safe from the marauding evil. And even now, though the King’s Peace, was spreading slowly through the lands, still beneath the mountains, in the darkness, dwelt little pockets of Orcs and goblins and trolls. And the wolves of the north still hunted in the mountains and would make forays into the fields and pastures when the winters were particularly bad.

The Hobbits asked a number of questions, as did Anyopâ. They all held a look of wary fascination in their faces, though from what they asked they seemed to be trying to slide their minds around what he had told them. Benat called for another pitcher or two of ale. They would be needing it when he got into the tale of the battle he thought.

[Child of the 7th Age]

"Excuse me for a minute. I still believe we can work something out, but let me help these little ones first." With that, Miz Bella turned away from her conversation with Lilly to focus her full attention on the two young hobbits who were now tugging intently on her sleeve.

"And who might you be?" she asked.

"I'm Reggie, and this is my sister Daisy. We heard about your school, and we want to come hear all those dragon stories, please ma'am."

"You may call me Miz Bella, and I would be most happy to have you come. I do love dragon tales myself. But first you must ask your parents what they think. If your parents or you would like to come tomorrow morning to my chambers, you can help me fix up the schoolroom in the morning. Perhaps by the afternoon we can have a short session."

She looked impishly down at the children and asked, "Do you like riddles? I like them almost as much as dragon stories. Think about this riddle tonight and see what you think the answer is. You can ask your folks for help if it is too hard." Then Miz Bella recited:

The beginning of eternity,
The end of time and space,
The beginning of every end,
And the end of every space..

"If you can find the answer, you'll be on your way to learning to read."

With that, the little ones ran off, and Miz Bella directed her attention back to Lilly, noting, "I think we might come to a very agreeable arrangement. When you come down to the Inn to pick up Master Headstrong's laundry, I'll have a small bundle of my own. I'll need my own clothes washed but also the rags and such that we use to clean the slates at school. It would be a big help to me not to have to worry about such things in the evening, and I would gladly include Rory and Camille in the classroom in exchange for such a service. What think you?"

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

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; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar)

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio)

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.

_____________________________________________

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.

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EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

Time in the Shire

It is now later in the evening; the sky has grown darker; the moon is just over the trees to the east; the stars are hazy behind the clouds that have sailed in from the northwest..

Supper is being served:

Stewed chicken with taters and carrots; mushroom pie; fresh garden peas with mint and butter; big fluffy biscuits with plenty of butter and honey and jam.

Spice cake full of plump sweet raisins iced with thick vanilla frosting.

And numerous beverages to suit anyone's needs.

There is music in the common room from a little local band. And, of course, the swell of conversation as neighbors and new acquaintances tell the news, swap tales, and call out their orders as the servers pass among the tables.

---

It is chilly with the promise of a spring storm later in the night . . . the wind has picked up . . .

[Envinyatar]

Derufin savored the last bite of his spice cake, then washed the last of the thick, sticky sweet frosting down with a large gulp of cider. He set his fork down with a satisfied clink and pushed the vacant plate away. To his left sat a table of the local folk . . . no, not sat, but stood about the table cheering on one of their mates. Derufin stood and looked over at the source of merriment and groans.

They’d cleared half the table of mugs and plates and had laid a modest piece of thin slate on it; one edge of the slate on the very edge of the tabletop. The rectangular board had lines painted across it and spaces along the edge for scoring. One of the Hobbits, the broadest and beefiest at the table stood at one end of the slate, concentrating hard on the ha’penny cushioned against his calloused palm. There was a hushed cheering as he pushed the penny and it slid across the lines. ‘Stop! Stop!’ he muttered through clenched teeth, then groaned audibly as the ha’penny skidded all the way to the end of the slate. ‘Have a drink!’ his friend standing next to him said sympathetically. ‘It’ll go better next time.’ Another of the men at the table stepped up, trying his luck at the challenge.

‘What are we playing for?’ Derufin asked, edging up to the table as looked on. One of the Hobbits looked up at him, his brow raised. ‘Ever played afore?’ he asked the man casually. ‘Well, no,’ admitted Derufin, watching as the challenger fared a little better than his friend. ‘But it doesn’t seem too hard, now does it?’

The Hobbits suppressed a chuckle and motioned for Derufin to try his hand at it. ‘Loser stands the table to drinks. And no . . . not too hard . . .’ He grinned at his companions. ‘Should be no trouble at all for a fine strapping man such as yourself . . .’

[Encaitare]

Tommy munched on the spice cake Caity had ordered for their dessert, as much of the creamy frosting getting on his face as in his mouth. She was telling him about the previous day's events -- about the ceremony and the dancing and the music and the people. She could tell he wasn't very interested in hearing her talk about such things as dancing, but he was getting free cake out of it, and so was willing to sit it out. His attention became distracted, however, when his gaze wandered to a certain giant and his pet.

"Wow, Caity, look!" he said, his eyes huge and a forkful of cake half-lifted to his mouth. "Did you ever see a dog that big?" Immediately he was bouncing up out of his chair and dashing towards the dog to get a better look.

"Tommy-- stop-- wait-- Tommy!" She shouted the last word, but he still ignored her. Ugh! Little brothers! She snatched a napkin off the table -- the boy was a mess -- and followed him as quickly as she could without knocking anyone down.

By the time she reached him, he was already tugging on the dog's ear. Fearing for his safety, Caity snatched the boy up and found herself looking into the face of the giant man.

"I am so sorry, sir," she apologized, holding the wriggling boy and wiping off his frosting-covered face. Luckily, the man did not look like he was getting angry over Tommy's intrusion, and neither did the dog, which was wagging his tail so hard that he threatened to overturn some of the hobbit-sized furniture.

[Tevildo]

Lilly glanced at Miz Bella and smiled, "What a wonderful idea! I think that would work just fine. I'll be glad to collect your things and launder them. I should have them back the very next morning. And I know how much Rory wants to learn to read. This will make him very happy." Lilly glanced affectionately towards her younger son who was now beaming broadly from ear to ear. The two women shook hands and Miz Bella left to go speak to Marigold about the new school.

After Bella's departure, Lilly glanced over at her older daughter Camille but was met with only a scowl and a curt response, "Mum, this is all well and good. But I have work to do for Cook and will have no time for such nonsense." Camille picked up a piece of cake from the platter and began to stuff it into her mouth in a determined manner.

Inside, however, she was seething. This Miz Bella must be the person that Cook wanted her to help. Camille wanted nothing to do with it. For one moment, she considered storming into Cook's presence and refusing to help the woman set up her school. But that would only hurt herself and her mum. She needed the money too badly.

Still, schools and letters made Camille uneasy. Let them all prattle on about how they wanted to hear grand stories of dragons and Elves. She did not mind listening to stories. The problem was that, once you'd heard a tale or two, the teacher always insisted that you try and untangle the letters and words on a page, or write them out on a slate. As hard as Camille tried, the letters made no sense. And her words usually ended up looking very odd with some of the letters mixed up, not at all in the proper order in which they belonged. Once before as a young child, she had gone to a dame school that was kept by one of her aunties. Three days later, her auntie had begged Lilly to withdraw her daughter from the school because Camille had intentionally hurled her slate against the wall and shattered it into a dozen pieces.

Her mother's words cut into these unpleasant reveries. "Don't worry, Camille. I've already spoken with Cook. She wants you to help out in the Inn in the late afternoon and evening. That will leave plenty of time in the morning to attend Miz Bella's school."

"But, Ma. Please. I don't..."

"Not another word, Camille. You need to know your letters and numbers. This is an excellent opportunity, and I insist you take advantage of it. Now, it's getting late for tonight. Let's say our goodbyes to Master Falco and get some help taking back Rory. Camille, you can stay behind a minute. Tell Cook you'll be leaving now, but will be back in the morning to help Miz Bella."

Camille slipped off for one minute and found Cook. Barging into the kitchen, she spoke testily, "Mum says I'll be back early to help Miz Bella. I assume that is who you were talking about. A school! That seems like a silly thing to have in an Inn. You'd think that people could find better ways to use their time. But I do promise you that I'll do the best job I can. You just can't account for other people's tastes."

[piosenniel]

Willi is brought into the kitchen

kachink!

The sound of the ha’penny hitting the backboard was accompanied by wry expressions of sympathy and a muttered ‘Blast this deuced game!’ ‘Better luck next time, Derufin!’ came the call from the Hobbit who had won the game. ‘We’ll call this a practice game . . . you can buy us each a tot of brandy and we’ll be even. Next time, though, better you fill your pockets with ha’pennies!’ There was laughter and the clapping on the back of the poor man as he made his way to the bar.

On a shelf behind the bar was the brandy that had come in from The Golden Perch. Stout stuff, though smooth as silk to the tongue. Derufin grabbed the bottle in one hand and a wooden tray he loaded with small glasses in the other. With a grin, he poured each of them a drink, then knocked it back as they did, in an appreciative silence.

‘Lost, eh?’ Zimzi had come up quietly behind him as he gathered the glasses back onto tray. Her eyes sparkled, with no hint of sympathy for his plight in them. She put her arm about his waist, walking back to the bar and then into the kitchen with him.

Cook gave him an appraising look as he set the tray of glasses down. ‘Not going to just leave them there, are you? There’s soapy water there in the sink and you can just leave them on the drainboard.’ ‘Though, she said, turning back to her letter writing, ‘it might be nice for the girls if they didn’t have to wipe and polish them and set them back on the bar rack.’

‘I’ll dry, you wash,’ offered Zimzi, nudging him toward the soapy water. ‘Then grab my cloak, if you will, and we’ll make a dash for home.’ She nodded toward the kitchen’s window where the wind rattled at the shutters. ‘Sounds as if it might be starting to rain.’ She frowned as a thought occurred to her. ‘Have you see Falowik and Uien? Perhaps they should stay the night with us.’ Derufin handed her a rinsed glass saying he would look for them before they left for the cottage.

They were nearly done, when Ginger burst through the door from the Common Room, a pale looking little fellow in her arms. And thumping in a few seconds behind her came Thistle Bracegirdle.

[Primrose Bolger]

Willi is patched up

‘I think he’s alright, Miss Bracegirdle,’ said Ginger gathering Willi up in her arms. ‘He’s groaning, at least, and I think his eyes are just closed because he’s hurting.’ She brushed the curls back from his forehead. ‘He did get a little gash here.’ Willi winced as she brushed over the cut. ‘Let’s take him into the kitchen and get him cleaned and bandaged.’

Cook brought out her box of herbs and unguents from one of the cabinets while Zimzi spread a big towel on the table. It was only a small cut, though it had bled freely and looked much worse. It was cleaned and a dab of unguent applied. Willi whimpered only a little as Cook looked him over and fixed him up. ‘Brave lad!’ said Ginger taking him up once again. ‘Let’s find you some dry clothes and then your parents.’

Willi smiled wanly at Cook and thanked her, then waved to Miz Bracegirdle as Ginger carried him back to the Common Room. ‘Sorry I ruined your cake!’ he called out.

[piosenniel]

Thistle is offered a ride home

‘Looks as if you could use a wash up and a change, too,’ Cook said, handing Thistle a clean, dry towel. ‘Little fellow got you both pretty good, I see.’ She made an offer of a dry gown from her room.

Zimzi came forward, with Derufin close by her side. ‘It’s raining now. Let us offer you a ride home. It will be no trouble for us.’ She turned to Derufin and nudged him toward the kitchen’s back door. ‘Go harness the ponies to the covered cart, dear. And fetch us a thick wool blanket from the stable.’

[Noinkling]

Plans are made to tell the tale of the battle tomorrow

The hubbub of the fallen Hobbit child had shifted the focus from Benat and his story. Details of what had just happened were discussed as was the location of the child’s’ parents. Benat stood up, his height an advantage, and reported that the lad had been delivered into the arms of his mother and father, and the three were now heading off, he supposed, to home.

‘It is getting rather late,’ the big man said as he sat himself back down. ‘I hadn’t realized it had gotten dark already.’ He looked about at his companions at the table. ‘Can we meet again tomorrow? It will give me more time for the telling.’ The face on the lad sitting with Cullen fell, but Benat offered to buy both he and his sister an early supper. And yes, Cullen would be in attendance, he laughed.

‘By then, too, I should be able to fill some other gaps in my story. Miz Bunce has promised to introduce me to your Mayor Sam. If he gives me leave to see the book Mister Bilbo kept, then I’ll know what befell him and his companions when they left my Granda’s house.’

Maddy and the other men at the table agreed to meet again tomorrow evening. Even Minto was growing less wary of Benat’s claims and looked forward to hearing the story. They all gathered up their cloaks from the pegs by the door and headed for home, their hoods pulled up as proof against the rain. ‘Early evening, then,’ cried Maddy, waving to Benat and the few others left at the table, before he left for his snug burrow.

‘You should be heading home, too,’ Benat said to Caity and Tommy. ‘Cullen and I are bound for our soft bed in the hayloft.’ Cullen stood up, thumping his tail as if to say he hoped Tommy would come back tomorrow. Benat and his furry companion made their way to the door. Taking his great cape from the highest peg, Benat pulled it securely about him. He shouldered his pack and exited the Inn, moving toward the stable at a fast clip.

[piosenniel]

Notice of time moving forward in the Inn

Later today (about 3 p.m. Pacific time, U.S.), time in the Shire will move forward to morning. I'll put up a notice of the Time Change at that time.

Until then, please finish up any evening/night posts you need to get in.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire moderator

[Firefoot]

"Ah, thank you," said Thistle, unsure of quite how to respond. Thistle made a mental note to herself. Never let it be said that all Big Folk are rude. She was getting uncomfortable in her damp clothes, and now that she was fair certain that Willi was fine, she was free to concentrate on such things. "I'll be ready in a moment." She turned and made her way over to Ginger and Willi.

"Don't you worry about the cake, lad," Thistle told him. "I expect you to share cake with me some other time, though. Got that?"

He smiled happily. "Okay."

"You take care of yourself," she told him. Looking at Ginger, she added, "You too." She glanced around and saw that the Man had brought the wagon around. They said their good-bye's and Thistle thumped out to meet the wagon. She got a bit wet, but not as much as she would have had she needed to walk the whole way back. She was also very grateful for the heavy blanket. The night was chilly.

As the wagon pulled away from the Inn, Thistle decided that all told the Green Dragon was indeed a fine inn, despite her earlier misgivings. Perhaps she would have to stop in more often. It was not good to be lonely all the time. Then she smiled.

[Noinkling]

Cullen cleans up Tommy

Luckily, the girl was paying more attention to speaking with his master than she was to wiping the frosting off the littler one’s face. Much of the sticky white frosting was still evident as were a few crumbs of cake on the boy’s tunic. Cullen rose up with a muffled little woof of greeting and curled up his lips in a smile. Drawing near, he sniffed Tommy in the ear, then proceeded to clean him off with very efficient swipes of his tongue. The boy’s face was small and it took only a couple of swipes before the dog’s keen nose sought out the crumbs and whisked them up, too.

‘No need for the napkin, Miss,’ Benat said, chuckling a bit at the sight of the wriggling boy and the persistent dog. Cullen had often made himself useful among the little ones at home. ‘I see that “Clean-up Cullen” has found himself a task to accomplish.’

The Hobbit men at the table laughed at the sight of the nursemaiding dog and Anyopâ pulled out a chair, offering it to Caity. ‘You’ve come just in time,’ he said, brushing the dirt from the seat – one of the Hobbits had been resting his feet there previously. ‘Benat is about to tell us of a very interesting battle his Grandfather was in. You’re more than welcome to join us.’

Benat nodded and spoke to Tommy. ‘And would you like to join us up here . . . or perhaps be the guest of Cullen, there, and sit with him on the floor?’

[piosenniel]

Cook and Camille

Cook was sitting at her little desk in the kitchen, a stack of papers to her left and her bottle of ink to the right. She was writing names of items and sums of money into the kitchen’s account ledger when Camille burst through the door with her little rant. Vinca sat back in her chair and fixed the girl with a non-committal stare.

‘Not thinking straight, Camille,’ she commented once the girl had run out of steam. Cook laid the quill to one side and seeing the ink was dry on the page she’d been working on, closed the ledger. It had been a long tiring day and she was in no mood to deal with one more outburst from anyone. But Camille was new, she cautioned herself, and a good worker. She looked her up and down wondering what had brought on such strong feelings. In a matter of fact voice she addressed the lass’ points.

‘The Inn is a perfect place to have the school. First, we’ve the room for it and second folks are familiar with us and will be more likely to send their children here to be taught than to some strange, new place set up by someone they don’t know.

‘And as for Miz Bella, she’s a treasure-mine of learning from books and her travels. We haven’t had a real teacher about for a good long time, Too many young folk have not had the benefit of broadening their minds a bit. She’s a kind, lovely lady; it was more than generous of her to offer her services.

‘Now as for you, no one’s asking you to account for my tastes or any others. And there’s none can teach you if you’ve set your mind against it. But I can tell you that if you expect to take on any more responsibilities than moving crates and barrels and scraping dishes and washing them around here – And I hope you would think beyond that, because you seem bright and able enough – then you’ll need to know at least some basic reading and numbers and some arithmetic.’

Cook patted the ledger and pointed to the stack of papers. ‘We’ve got tradesmen and people from round about that bring us the things we need or do for us what we can’t do ourselves. If I send you to the miller I’ll be expecting you to read the paper he gives you that says what he’s done for us so you’ll know it was what I sent you after. You’ll need to bring it back and put it in the right little cubbyhole here in my desk – see they’re all labeled – so I can pay him the end of each month. Anyways, that’s just one thing to think about for yourself.’

She turned back to the desk, picked up her quill and dipped it into the inkwell. ‘Got a letter here I’ve got to answer . . . from a dear friend down south, where the King lives.’ Cook opened the vellum and smoothed it out on the desk. Whoever had written the letter had a bold hand and here and there among the words were little drawings – childrens’ faces and a house and a ship docked at the quay. ‘Can’t be there to watch her raise her little chicks but this is the next best thing.’ Cook pulled out the return letter she was working on and printed out Camille’s name. ‘And look here . . . I’ve put you in as one of the new faces working here . . . she always likes to know who’s helping to run The Dragon.’

‘Well . . . see you tomorrow, then, Camille,’ Cook said, reading through again the last part of the letter she’d received, chuckling to herself at some joke the writer had made. ‘And I know you’ll do the best you can, dear . . . you don’t seem the kind to do any less.’