The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Primrose Bolger · 07-22-2005, 11:21 AM

‘The blue ones it is, then,’ said Ginger. She finished one of the braids and bound it with a short piece of kitchen string. Her hands flew quickly through the other braid, and soon it too was done and bound. The length of one of the blue ribbons, the one the color of a bluebird’s feathers, was cut in two and twin bows soon found themselves perched securely on each of Wren’s braid ends.

Ginger glanced at the half-hour glass. The sand had almost run through. She peeked into the oven, noting the tops of the cakes were still wet looking. Closing the oven door once again, she turned the timer over.

‘Well, I suppose we could get these washed up and chopped,’ she said pointing to the carrots and taters and onions Aman had brought in from the garden. Cook does want to have some nice thick chicken soup for supper, but . . .’ She pursed her lips, then grinned at Wren.

‘If we’re quick about it, there’s a wardrobe of clothes that travelers have left in their rooms and never come back to collect or sent for. I’m certain there are skirts and blouses and dresses that would fit you. In fact, I know there are – I’ve looked at them myself.’ She held Wren at arm’s length and twirled her about. ‘You’re a Big Folk child, but still we’re about the same height. I’ve got maybe an inch or so on you.’ She took Wren by the hand and pulled her quickly up the back stairs of the kitchen toward the attic rooms above her own and the other server girls. ‘Step lively. We wouldn’t want the cakes to burn,’ she said, hurrying the girl along.

Ginger flung open the door and sneezed a bit in the stirred up dust. ‘There’s the wardrobe over there,’ she said pointing to a corner near one of the attic’s small windows. ‘Help me get the doors open, won’t you. They’re a bit sticky.’

Pivli · 07-22-2005, 01:22 PM

She paused at the top of the steps and leaned on her cane for a bit to catch her breath and rest her legs. ‘Not as spry as we once were, are we dears,’ she said flexing her creaky knees in anticipation of the short trek to the door.

Miz Violet Greengage brushed the dust from her dark green skirt and straightened the hem of her weskit. A familiar little whinny caused her to turn and she could see one of the stableboys leading her Nobby off toward the barn, her little green cart rolling along behind.

She walked to the large oaken door and putting her gnarled hand on it pushed it open. It was easier done than she thought it might be. ‘Kept in good order,’ she noted, nodding her head with approval.

Violet hadn’t been to the Inn in ages, it seemed. Though she lived not that far from it in a snug burrow up by The Pool. What with her children she’d raised, and their children and her garden and her few chickens and the goat, she’d kept herself busy enough paddling about in her own pond, as she’d say.

Now Mister Greengage, long since passed and buried in the small graveyard on the little hill that stood north of The Water, had enjoyed his weekly trips into Bywater to trade at the little market in the square, and had often spoken fondly of meeting with his friends in The Dragon, and a pint or two shared.

One of the ladies who lived near her had recently told Violet about the Faire that was to happen in a few weeks. There were to be booths of all sorts and she was planning on showing off her jams and jellies along with some of her neighbors. ‘And what about you, Miz Greengage?’ her neighbor had asked. ‘You going to show off your pretty quilts this year?’

Violet’s eyes were still sharp and she could still ply a needle with great skill. Her neighbor lady had gotten her to thinking about the many quilts she’d made that were stowed away in her great cedar chest. Perhaps she could show them off, she thought.

She made her way into the common room and looked about. ‘Now where was the Innkeeper,’ she said to herself. ‘And for that matter, who was the Innkeeper now.' One of the Big Folk she thought she'd heard from out east.

With her yew-wood cane tapping along on the wooden floor, she approached one of the tables. My, my it was one of the Fair Folk sitting there. Big as life and eating a proper Shire breakfast!

‘Pardon me for interrupting your meal,’ she said, standing near the Elf. ‘But have you seen the Innkeeper?’

Seth Cotton · 07-22-2005, 03:26 PM

Éothen was leading his horse along the road. The horse was tired, a long night of idle riding without a smallest pause. Éothen kept calming it, stroking it over the mane slowly with his hand and saying something silently to it that was almost unhearable for ears of Men.

The road led to The Green Dragon, an old Inn he had visited so many times before. Its renowned ale was the best he had ever tasted. The horse became more and more uncomfortable and pulled the reins and snorted constantly. Not even the calming words of his Master now helped and the situation became more serious.

Éothen really suffered and felt the pain as his noble stallion did. It was a bond he had never had with another horse before, and because of it, the horse had become really precious to him.

Finally he reached the Inn, he feared before that he wouldn't make it, and just seeing the small, narrow road leading down the Inn house made him sigh in relief. A great burden from his chest was gone as if it had never been there.

He came closer to the stables and met the Stablemaster, Meriadoc. He rushed up from the stool he was sitting on, leaning against the stable wall behind him smoking some pipeweed. 'G'day Sir! Is your horse in need of rest?' He glanced at the horse, and had obviously noticed the quite radiating exhaustion.

'Aye, it is my Friend.' Éothen responded, smiling faintly at Meriadoc. 'And so am I.' He chuckled and Meriadoc did as well. Éothen handed the reins to Meriadoc and made sure his horse did get plenty of food and water. He took farewell of Meriadoc and went over to the Main Building of the Inns grounds.

He went inside, and noticed, of course as it was early morning still, that breakfast was being served. Many was already up, sitting in the Common Room talking, eating or preparing to set off. Éothen was rather hungry by now after a long night of travelling. He did actually enjoy travelling in the night, he couldn't explain why.

He got himself some tea and bread then gazed around looking for a place to sit down. He heard a womans voice talking loud just behind him, probably talking to herself, but it was loud enough to drag Éothens attention just to see who it was.

He smiled and looked at her, seeing she sat alone eating her breakfast. He cleared his throat and asked 'Would you mind if I joined you, my Lady? It would be an honour'. He smiled again and half-bowed at her. He awaited her reply, looking at her with still a warm smile.

07-22-2005, 01:22 PM	#2
Pivli Pile O'Bones Join Date: Jul 2005 Location: Goose Hollow Posts: 14	She paused at the top of the steps and leaned on her cane for a bit to catch her breath and rest her legs. ‘Not as spry as we once were, are we dears,’ she said flexing her creaky knees in anticipation of the short trek to the door. Miz Violet Greengage brushed the dust from her dark green skirt and straightened the hem of her weskit. A familiar little whinny caused her to turn and she could see one of the stableboys leading her Nobby off toward the barn, her little green cart rolling along behind. She walked to the large oaken door and putting her gnarled hand on it pushed it open. It was easier done than she thought it might be. ‘Kept in good order,’ she noted, nodding her head with approval. Violet hadn’t been to the Inn in ages, it seemed. Though she lived not that far from it in a snug burrow up by The Pool. What with her children she’d raised, and their children and her garden and her few chickens and the goat, she’d kept herself busy enough paddling about in her own pond, as she’d say. Now Mister Greengage, long since passed and buried in the small graveyard on the little hill that stood north of The Water, had enjoyed his weekly trips into Bywater to trade at the little market in the square, and had often spoken fondly of meeting with his friends in The Dragon, and a pint or two shared. One of the ladies who lived near her had recently told Violet about the Faire that was to happen in a few weeks. There were to be booths of all sorts and she was planning on showing off her jams and jellies along with some of her neighbors. ‘And what about you, Miz Greengage?’ her neighbor had asked. ‘You going to show off your pretty quilts this year?’ Violet’s eyes were still sharp and she could still ply a needle with great skill. Her neighbor lady had gotten her to thinking about the many quilts she’d made that were stowed away in her great cedar chest. Perhaps she could show them off, she thought. She made her way into the common room and looked about. ‘Now where was the Innkeeper,’ she said to herself. ‘And for that matter, who was the Innkeeper now.' One of the Big Folk she thought she'd heard from out east. With her yew-wood cane tapping along on the wooden floor, she approached one of the tables. My, my it was one of the Fair Folk sitting there. Big as life and eating a proper Shire breakfast! ‘Pardon me for interrupting your meal,’ she said, standing near the Elf. ‘But have you seen the Innkeeper?’ __________________ Far and near as fool's fire,/they come glittering through the gloom./Their tongues as strong and nimble,/as would bind the looms of luck . . .

07-22-2005, 03:26 PM	#3
Seth Cotton Pile O'Bones Join Date: Jul 2005 Location: Plains of Rohan Posts: 15	Éothen of the Rohirrim arrives Éothen was leading his horse along the road. The horse was tired, a long night of idle riding without a smallest pause. Éothen kept calming it, stroking it over the mane slowly with his hand and saying something silently to it that was almost unhearable for ears of Men. The road led to The Green Dragon, an old Inn he had visited so many times before. Its renowned ale was the best he had ever tasted. The horse became more and more uncomfortable and pulled the reins and snorted constantly. Not even the calming words of his Master now helped and the situation became more serious. Éothen really suffered and felt the pain as his noble stallion did. It was a bond he had never had with another horse before, and because of it, the horse had become really precious to him. Finally he reached the Inn, he feared before that he wouldn't make it, and just seeing the small, narrow road leading down the Inn house made him sigh in relief. A great burden from his chest was gone as if it had never been there. He came closer to the stables and met the Stablemaster, Meriadoc. He rushed up from the stool he was sitting on, leaning against the stable wall behind him smoking some pipeweed. 'G'day Sir! Is your horse in need of rest?' He glanced at the horse, and had obviously noticed the quite radiating exhaustion. 'Aye, it is my Friend.' Éothen responded, smiling faintly at Meriadoc. 'And so am I.' He chuckled and Meriadoc did as well. Éothen handed the reins to Meriadoc and made sure his horse did get plenty of food and water. He took farewell of Meriadoc and went over to the Main Building of the Inns grounds. He went inside, and noticed, of course as it was early morning still, that breakfast was being served. Many was already up, sitting in the Common Room talking, eating or preparing to set off. Éothen was rather hungry by now after a long night of travelling. He did actually enjoy travelling in the night, he couldn't explain why. He got himself some tea and bread then gazed around looking for a place to sit down. He heard a womans voice talking loud just behind him, probably talking to herself, but it was loud enough to drag Éothens attention just to see who it was. He smiled and looked at her, seeing she sat alone eating her breakfast. He cleared his throat and asked 'Would you mind if I joined you, my Lady? It would be an honour'. He smiled again and half-bowed at her. He awaited her reply, looking at her with still a warm smile. __________________ Arise now, arise, Riders of Théoden! Dire deeds awake, dark is it eastward. Let horse be bridled, horn be sounded! Forth Eorlingas!

07-22-2005, 11:21 AM	#1
Primrose Bolger Wight Join Date: Sep 2003 Location: Near Bywater Pool Posts: 196	‘The blue ones it is, then,’ said Ginger. She finished one of the braids and bound it with a short piece of kitchen string. Her hands flew quickly through the other braid, and soon it too was done and bound. The length of one of the blue ribbons, the one the color of a bluebird’s feathers, was cut in two and twin bows soon found themselves perched securely on each of Wren’s braid ends. Ginger glanced at the half-hour glass. The sand had almost run through. She peeked into the oven, noting the tops of the cakes were still wet looking. Closing the oven door once again, she turned the timer over. ‘Well, I suppose we could get these washed up and chopped,’ she said pointing to the carrots and taters and onions Aman had brought in from the garden. Cook does want to have some nice thick chicken soup for supper, but . . .’ She pursed her lips, then grinned at Wren. ‘If we’re quick about it, there’s a wardrobe of clothes that travelers have left in their rooms and never come back to collect or sent for. I’m certain there are skirts and blouses and dresses that would fit you. In fact, I know there are – I’ve looked at them myself.’ She held Wren at arm’s length and twirled her about. ‘You’re a Big Folk child, but still we’re about the same height. I’ve got maybe an inch or so on you.’ She took Wren by the hand and pulled her quickly up the back stairs of the kitchen toward the attic rooms above her own and the other server girls. ‘Step lively. We wouldn’t want the cakes to burn,’ she said, hurrying the girl along. Ginger flung open the door and sneezed a bit in the stirred up dust. ‘There’s the wardrobe over there,’ she said pointing to a corner near one of the attic’s small windows. ‘Help me get the doors open, won’t you. They’re a bit sticky.’