The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Esgallhugwen]

"My name is Esgallhugwen, my friends call me Eswen, it's much shorter you see and they don't run out of breath trying to pronounce it", she smiled down upon the young Hobbit Astilwen.

"Your name holds much beauty in it, Astilwen of the Shire, you are lucky to have parents with such cultured friends, many names of the Elves can suit the mirth of your kin, but many others like my own would have your poor tongues stumbling for days"

She laughed, not at Astilwen, but at her own foolishness, she cared to forget the hurtful things of her own life, but as soon as she left the Shire she would have to come back to reality. She looked for Uien and Falowik, they lay under the Hawthorn still.

Esgallhugwen wondered if she had awoken Falowik with her rioutous laughter. however fluid and lyrical it may have been. And all the while she had heard the singing from within, both happy and sad.

[Mithalwen]

Gilthalion

A horse and rider enter the yard. The horse's dark coat and the dark raiment of it's rider blend into the night. The rider slipped soundlessly from his mount and approached the grey horse standing there. To some the figure might have brought back evil memories of some years ago when the Black Riders had come searching for Baggins but this was no evil servant.

"Well met at last, Aeglos my friend, where is your mistress?" . The voice marked the horseman as one of the eldar. And he did not need an answer for he saw what he sought through the tavern's window. An elf maid in the corner hunched over some papers lit by a guttering candle. He smiled a brief smile and made for the door.

Mithalwen had nearly finished her missives - to Camille, Marigold, and even the hardest one to Uien and was debating whether to leave a note for Snaveling when she felt again the strange sensation that she had been ignoring all day. She had assumed it was merely an awareness that some of her kindred were travelling through the Shire - certainly there were several even here at the inn - and she had had no clear impression that one was trying to reach her mind. But she also knew she had closed her mind when she had caught the edge of Uien's private storm. So again she ignored it and concentrated on her script " I will be at Wood Hall soon enough" she thought. She had a clear hand and for the child recipients she had decorated her letters with drawings of flowers and animals. She had nearly finished a very lifelike sketch of Aeglos on the corner of Marigold's letter when a familiar voice spoke quietly at her shoulder: "How much longer will you let that poor beast wait while you draw his picture?" .

She could not mistake the voice but neither could she believe she was hearing it in waking life, "Gilthalion! What are you doing here? "

"Looking for you". He sat down opposite her and cast back his hood. Although his hair was raven and hers silver their features mirrored each other; they had the same aquiline nose and high cheekbones, though the maid's were finer drawn than the man's, and the same grey eyes stared at each other, one set with amazement the other with amusement.

"But you don't travel - surely the last time you left Imladris was Third Age 1975?" Mithalwen teased.. Gilthalion narrowed his eyes - it had taken about a minute for the childhood pattern of sibling behaviour to reestablish itself despite their childhood being an age of the world away.

"I do not travel often by choice that is true - but it is not so long... I went to Minas Tirith for the wedding of the Lady Arwen - and you do not seem to pleased to see your brother". He watched her carefully - even after so long the word Gondor had the same effect on her as Mordor had on him. She elided the reference but he knew something had closed up inside her at the mention.

"Of course - I am delighted - I was coming to see you, but to meet you here is so strange... there is much to explain it seems" she answered.

"Indeed but first a drink - and food if they are serving still... have you eaten?"

Mithalwen shook her head ruefully " I spent all my money trying to help people.."

" Oh Mithalwen - you too have explanations - but first we will eat and I will pay". Gilthalion rose and went to the kitchen to see if there was anything left but before he did so, his sister rose and embraced him. For although these twain had their differences and been even sundered for a time, Gilthalion and his family were the only close kin Mithalwen had in Middle Earth and the bond between them was strong.

[Tevildo]

Slinking out of the Common Room, Tevildo traced his path to the stairwell that led to the upstairs bedrooms. Daintily, he mounted the steps one by one, hiding in the shadows so that few paid him any heed. Once or twice, he directly encountered guests walking downstairs intent on joining the evening's festivities. The cat skillfully eluded the eager, extended hands of two children who came chasing after him, turning around to hiss at them, and then bounding up the the remaining steps two at a time. Finally, Tevildo came to the first landing and ran down the hall to its very end where there was a closed and locked door, only large enough for a hobbit to go through without bending over. Seemingly, the steps disappeared.

The Green Dragon Inn was the only building in Hobbiton or Bywater that could boast three floors and an attic. Although a number of hobbits now built their dwellings above ground, it was still uncommon for any structure to have stairs or an upper floor. On the rare occasions when a farmer wanted extra sleeping quarters for kin, he might build a straw loft and prop up a ladder for the children to scamper to bed. The Dragon, however, was different. It stood proud and tall, three stories high, situated on a hillside that commanded a sweeping view of the surrounding landscape. There had been times in the past when Innkeepers Piosenniel and Aman had made their way up to the very top floor and crawled into the attic just so they could get a fine view of things and a little breathing space of their own.

Tevildo knew none of these things as he ran down the hall and stood outside the small door putting up a terrible ruckus. He was frankly going on instinct. He wanted to look again at that fine carved table, which had been set outside at the wedding, and had somehow disappeared. A small voice inside his head whispered that the two-leggeds, being somewhat dense and not recognizing the value of the table, had stupidly moved the piece of furniture up the steps to store in the attic. Tevildo was intent on finding it again.

The top floor of the Inn was presently shut down. The number of guests staying on the lower floors did not warrant opening up extra rooms. When the Faire came later in the month that situation would change, and all the chambers would be filled to overflowing. For the moment, however, the only residents on the top floor were two serving hobbits who often forgot to lock their doors behind them. Tevildo heard light footsteps approaching, coming down the steps behind the locked door. The minute the door opened, he skittering underneath the young hobbit's legs as she deftly made her way into the hallway, anxious to run downstairs to help in the kitchen as she was supposed to do. The young lass did not even notice the small cat that slipped through the door unnoticed and bounded up the narrow steps.

[piosenniel]

‘Land sakes! Why thank you for excusing me. My feet are twitching to be up and dancing.’ Cook rose from her chair and giving a quick nod of her head and a smile to Lithmire, she hurried off to the little dance area that had been cleared in front of the small stage. For a moment, she almost turned back to ask him if he’d care to join her. Nay! Let him be, Vinca Bunce. He’s comfortable there as guardian of the teacups. Don’t prod him; he’ll bolt.

Reaching the dance floor, she lifted her skirts a bit and stepped lively to the jig the band was playing. Her knees flashed in the lamplight at times as she high-stepped. And a number of travelers from beyond Hobbiton, merchant men come to trade, looked on in approval. She did not encourage them, though she enjoyed the attention. It made her feel quite young and spry.

One poor fellow thought he might sidle in close to her, to join in. But she raised her brows and gave him a withering look. His fantasies deflated, he sat meekly back down and buried his embarrassment in a mug of ale.

[Huan]

‘Now who is that?’ asked Rowan, leaning in close to Gil as Cook kicked up her heels. His explanation was short and spoken with a sense of affection. ‘Why that’s Cook,’ he told her, as if the one word should be more than enough explanation.

‘Interesting!’ thought Rowan to herself. ‘I think I will have to make sure to meet her.’

Tolly came up to her, from where he’d been talking to the other musicians. ‘I think we’ve worked out the tune. It’s a new one to Gil’s fellows.’ He nodded at Gil. ‘But the tune’s simple enough, and if we play it once through, I think you’ll have it. The sung versus are without accompaniment, and there are just short, quick bars of the chorus tune done between.’

He and Gil stepped back to where Gil’s companions were standing and did a soft run through. Then they turned back to the crowd in the room and did a longer version of the verse and chorus without the singing.

It was Rowan who stepped to the front of the stage, with Emlin singing a bass harmony. Her voice rang out clear and strong in the crowded room.


When I first came to town,
They called me the roving jewel;
Now they've changed their tune,
They call me Katy Cruel,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

Oh that I was where I would be,
Then I would be where I am not,
Here I am where I must be,
Go where I would, I can not,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

When I first came to town,
They brought me the bottles plenty;
Now they've changed their tune,
They bring me the bottles empty,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

Oh that I was where I would be,
Then I would be where I am not,
Here I am where I must be,
Go where I would, I can not,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

I know who I love,
And I know who does love me;
I know where I'm going,
And I know whose going with me,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

Oh that I was where I would be,
Then I would be where I am not,
Here I am where I must be,
Go where I would, I can not,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

Through the woods I go,
And through the bogs and mire,
Straightway down the road,
And to my heart's desire,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

Oh that I was where I would be,
Then I would be where I am not,
Here I am where I must be,
Go where I would, I can not,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

Eyes as bright as coal,
Lips as bright as cherry,
and 'tis her delight
To make the young girls merry,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

Oh that I was where I would be,
Then I would be where I am not,
Here I am where I must be,
Go where I would, I can not,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

When I first came to town
They called me the roving jewel
Now they've changed their tune
They call me Katy Cruel
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

For the very last chorus all joined in. Their voices swelled strongly about the room, overpowering the the small clusters of conversation, then stopped abruptly leaving silence.

Oh that I was where I would be,
Then I would be where I am not,
Here I am where I must be,
Go where I would, I can not,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.

Rowan, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed from singing, smiled impishly at those in the room and took a small bow.

[Mithalwen]

Gilthalion

The elf paid little heed to the music as he made his way deftly through the crowded common room focused in his task and his mind full of his own thoughts - long years of working metal, had made him broader and more strongly built than usual for an elf but still he moved with the easy grace of his people and most of those he passed did not notice him. He noticed one of them though. An elf sitting in the shadows near the kitchen door.

The elf was horribly maimed but it was the expression in his eyes that struck a chord in Gilthalion's mind. For though it was too evident that the other's suffering had been greater, Gilthalion in his own lesser way had felt the horror of Mordor. He had gone to war with his father and brother but had returned alone, burdened with anger, bitterness and guilt. Unable to cope he had withdrawn from the family that had remained to him, finding peace only in the hard physical labour of the forge. It was Amilya who had saved him, whose light had been strong enough to cast out the shadows from his soul if not his memory. A light passed into his eyes as he thought of his beloved wife distant for a while in body but ever close in spirit. So when his gaze met Lithmire's briefly it was filled not with pity but recognition. He knew better than to intrude unasked but acknowledged the other with a brief but solemn nod and passed on to ask at the kitchen as fine a meal as could be mustered from what remained.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Hearpwine’s eyes opened in wonderment at Larien’s tale. There were stories a-plenty of foundlings taken in by Elves, but he had never thought to meet with one such mortal in the flesh. And a Halfling at that! He had seen a great many wondrous peoples in his days, but this was certainly a rarity.

Standing, he bowed low. “Anyone who has had their rearing in Imladris bears with them the nobility of that land. I myself laid eyes upon the Lord Elrond but once before he left these shores, but I have many times gazed with love upon the beauty of Queen Arwen. In your own voice I hear the echoes of the piny woods that she often speaks of.” Sitting once more he began to speak of the Shire, about which – apparently – he knew more than this strange Hobbit. “I am myself but newly arrived to this realm, but my King has spoken of it often. The bonds of friendship between the Lord Eomer and Meriadoc Brandybuck are deep and abiding. Indeed, it is for the sake of that friendship that I am here, for King Eomer has sent me into this land to learn its songs so that I might amuse the lords of Rohan with them after the day’s work is done.”

Ginger smiled at Hearpwine quite prettily asking if he had learned any songs of the Shire yet. Hearpwine’s smile grew even wider and his voice boomed out happily. “All those that have been sung this night are engraved upon my heart, and there is another, truly unique song, that has this day been composed by the children of the Shire, which I will bring forth soon…but it requires still some meditation.”

“Do they sing the songs of the Shire away in the South, then?” Larien inquired.

“That we do, but only those few which were taught to us by the Great Hearts of the Shire at the end of the War. They are not much like the songs of the Rohirrim, but they are lovely nonetheless:

“The violet and the primrose too
Beneath a sheltering thorny bough
In bright and lively colours blow
And cast sweet fragrance round.
Where beds of thyme in clusters lay
The heath rose opens its eyes in May
And cowslips, too, their sweets display
Upon the heathy ground.

“Here shepherds meet at close of day
To chant their merry roundelay
And chase unhappy thought away
No discord here is found.
Harmonious notes make mountains ring
When minstrels strike the trembling string
And merry shepherds dance and sing
Upon the heathy ground.”

He sang unaccompanied by his harp, but the bard’s rich voice was a strong baritone and it did the simple tune ample justice. It was a familiar song to many there and some of the Halflings who heard it looked up in surprise that it was being sung – so loudly – by this tall Man. At its conclusion, the bard threw back his head and laughed infectiously. “It has always been a great favourite of mine! It was first brought to the Golden Hall by Peregrin Took, son of Paladin, when he sang it at the coronation of King Eomer!”

“You seem to know much of the Shire, Lord Hearpwine,” Larien said.

“Nay nay, call me not ‘Lord’! I am the son of a small house in the far west of Rohan, and heir to little more than a small green valley, which – beautiful as it may be – houses only a few dozen farmsteads. Whatever glory I may claim comes from my role as Bard to the King. If you must use a title, use that – but I would be much happier if you were simply to call me your new friend, Hearpwine!”