The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik slept on.

"Hello? Are you alright ma'am?"

Uien heard the words and cast her thought toward the speaker. No, the words were not directed toward Uien. A hobbit lass spoke them; she was standing by the Inn, looking up on the roof. Who was there? Eswen! Uien sped her thought to her friend.

What is my purpose? echoed back to Uien.

" I'm quite alright, thank you young Hobbit, I'm simple reminiscing of things long past." Eswen paused moment. "Not that theres any danger but what are you doing out here alone?"

Uien smiled. Let the lass and the Elf woman converse. Still, she sent a thought. 'Of what purpose do you think, my friend?'

[piosenniel]

‘Please, go ahead and eat, Lithmîrë,’ Cook said, putting her napkin on her lap. ‘Don’t let it get cold!’ She picked up her own spoon and took a generous mouthful of the savory broth and vegetables. With her buttered bread, she scooped a bit of coney onto the spoon and ate it next. ‘This was my mother’in-law’s recipe. The women knew how to cook coneys, I’ll give her that. That and she raised her boy to be a fine man.’ She took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. ‘Of course, I couldn’t help but improve on both of them a little bit . . . the coney and her son.’ Cook laughed at her own joke, and was gratified to see what might pass for a grin perch fleetingly on her dinner guest’s face.

‘We can go up and see Granny Oldbuck sometime after breakfast tomorrow. The girls can see to the serving of it and the clearing up.’ She drizzled some honey on her bread and took a bite, using the crust of bread to emphasize her points as she went on to talk about their trip tomorrow. ‘Now Granny Oldbuck’s an odd duck, some would say. But I find her company quite enjoyable. No *****-footing around and being polite for her. She says what she thinks outright, and let the chips fall where they may. You won’t find her judging you by your looks . . .’ Cook glanced Lithmîrë’s way, hoping he hadn’t taken offense. ‘But she’ll surely judge you be your actions. Wise old woman. As true a friend as you can have if she takes a liking to you.’

The Elf had worked his way through half of his serving. Cook, not asking if he would like a bit more, simply brought the small pot over and dished him up a fresh helping. She refrained from poking him in his ribs since they were only just getting to know each other. But, she did mention to him that he could stand to put a little more meat on his bones to her way of thinking.

[Kath]

The Elf answered Astilwen and then looked back up to the stars for a moment, before returning her attention to the hobbit and asking,
"Not that theres any danger but what are you doing out here alone?"

"I just came out for a breath of fresh air, it got pretty stuffy inside the Inn there with all those people and their love of smoking. Plus there was some kind of a commotion. A man fell unconscious though I think he's alright now and as they were taking him into the kitchens things were getting knocked over. I didn't fancy getting squashed by a table!"

Again Astilwen was unsure if the Elf had heard, as she looked as though she was hearing something else, her eyes a little unfocused and her head cocked to one side. Nevertheless she waited patiently for her to come back again from her memories.

[Gwydion]

Alastair jolted out of his thoughts. He stared up at the stars and stretched. Then he remembered the cook who had allowed him to be layed on the table in the kitchen. Alastair dumped out the contents of his pipe and walked around to the kitchen and knocked on the door. The cook answered the door with a rather annoyed look and recoiled when she saw that it was Alastair.

"I just wanted to thank you for letting me use that table until I woke up." The cook mumbled a welcome. Alastair gave a slight bow and then he notced the elf. He stared at him for a moment and then bid the cook farewell and walked out of the kitchen. Once he had exited the kitchen he walked back inside the inn and ordered an ale. Then he relit his pipe and began to puff away.

[Arry]

Gil filled Rowan’s mug to the brim, then did the same for her brother, Tolly. ‘Good, good!’ he said on hearing they would bring out their instruments a little later and join Gil and his friends. ‘Ah! I see Buttercup coming out to take my place. She’ll see to your meals and any further drinks.’ He pointed to a small raised platform to the left of the bar. ‘We’ll play there. Come join us when you’re ready.’

He grinned at Buttercup as he handed off the tray to her, and mumbled another apology. She scowled at first, then laughed as he told her she looked even better in this new outfit.

His companions had finished their drinks and were watching as he approached. ‘Let’s set up,’ he told them. ‘Once done with their meal, the players there will come join us for a song or so.’ He noted Woody and Hanson looking up hopefully at him. ‘You two can tag along. Ferrin, loan them a set each of your rhythm sticks; they can keep the beat with you.’ He winked at the two boys. ‘Oh, and the Big Folk . . . they thought they might tell a story tonight . . . one with great, fierce dragons, and no doubt swords and treasure and such . . .’

Woody and Hanson’s faces were wreathed in smiles. With a whoop of delight they went running off toward the little stage.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger set her tray down wearily on the counter in the kitchen. ‘I think everyone’s been served, Miz Bunce. All are happily tucking into their suppers or at least busy drinking their ales. She blushed a little realizing she’d interrupted the meal Cook and her guest were having. ‘Oh, sorry, m’am,’ she said, nodding to Cook and Lithmire. ‘I’ll just leave you two to finish your own meal.’

She took off her apron, hung it up on the peg by the door, and started back out to the common room. Ferdy had saved a seat for her at his table with Gil and the others.

‘Oh,’ she said, turning back to Cook and her guest just before she exited. ‘Gil and his band are setting up to play some music. And I heard him ask that troupe of players we were expecting to join in. Should be fun! Come out and join us!’ Ginger dropped a small curtsy and hurried on out to join her friends.

[Arry]

‘Now here’s a song that many a man here can understand. All you with your mugs filled with the Inn’s foaming brew or a deep cup of Old Winyards, lift them up and salute the one that wrote these verses.’ Behind him, Gil’s companions solemnly raised their mugs and glasses; then, set them down at their feet and picked up their fiddles and drum with a grin.

Gil started the music with his concertina, joined by the others after the first verse. Then with a wink to one of the serving lasses, he sang out in a clear voice.

The Women all tell me I'm false to my lass,
That I quit my poor Rosie and stick to my glass;
But to you men of reason, my reasons I'll own,
And if you don't like them, why let them alone.

Although I have left her, there truth I'll declare;
I believe she was good, and I'm sure she was fair;
but goodness and charms in a bumper I see,
That make it as good and as charming as she.

My Rosie had dimples and smiles I must own;
But, though, she could smile, yet in truth she could frown,
But tell me, ye lovers of liquor divine,
Did you e'er see a frown in a bumper of wine?

Her lilies and roses were just in their prime;
Yet lilies and roses are conquer'd by time;
but in wine, from its age, such a benefit flows,
That we like it the better the older it grows.

They tell me, my love would in time have been cloy'd;
And that beauty's insipid when once 'ts enjoy'd;
But in wine I both time and enjoyment defy;
For the longer I drink the more thirsty I am.

Let murders, and battles, and history prove
The mischiefs that wait upon rivals in love;
But in drinking, that Heaven, no rival contends,
For the more we love liquor, the more we are friends.

She, too, might have poison'd the joy of my life,
With nurses, and babies, and squalling and strife:
But my wine neither nurses nor babies can bring;
And a big-bellied bottle is a mighty good thing.

We shorten our days when with love we engage,
It brings on diseases and hastens old age;
But wine from grim death can its votaries save,
And keep out t'other leg, when there's one in the grave.

Perhaps, like her sex, ever false to their word,
She had left me, to get an estate or a lord;
But my bumper (regarding nor title or pelf)
Will stand by me when I can't stand by myself.

Then let my dear Rosie no longer complain;
she's rid of her lover, and I of my pain:
For in wine, mighty wine, many comforts I spy;
Should you doubt what I say, take a bumper and try.

Near the end of the song, many of the men had emptied their cups or mugs of drink and were banging them on the tabletops in rhythm with the song. And some of the braver ones, whose wives had not raised brows at them, were singing along with Gil.