The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Alcarillo]

"The innkeeper here is Aman, a woman from Rohan," Alcarillo told Miz Greengage, "a land to the south." He wondered if the hobbits knew of different lands, if they had even heard of them. Surely they aren't cut off from the outside world , Alcarillo thought, At least not since the War of the Ring. They must've learned all about Gondor and Mordor then. He munched on his last piece of bread thoughtfully. What a different people, these hobbits. They live peacefully without any fear. They may not be a very mighty people but they must be counted among the happiest.

"Now I have a question for you, Miz Greengage," Alcarillo announced, "You must be very familiar with the Shire. Can you tell me where the nearest inn that lies eastwards is? I'm traveling that way, you see, and I am somewhat unused to sleeping at the side of the road." He smiled pleasantly at her.

Pulling the door to the Dragon open, a hobbit scurried in quickly. He was so used to duck around the Large Folk in Bree that it had just become second nature to move a bit faster than he would normally like. The pudgy halfling out of the way of the door took in a big breath of air as he gave the tavern a once over. The road from Bree to the Dragon had been tiring on his dusty feet and he leaned against the dark tavern wall to relieve them. If it hadn't been at the insisting of his mother, he would still be at home, lifting pints at the Pony. He rolled his brown eyes as his mother's crow like voice filled his head again.


"You 'aven't been to see your Aunt and Uncle in ages. They deserve more than one visit a season, you good for nothing." The grey haired woman had her moments of kindness, though those were as rare as elves.


"Well, why don' you go an' see 'em then?" The hobbit had countered.


"They asked to see you not me, Milo. Now go on, before you miss the Trader's cart!" She had said, ending further chance for argument. Well, he had missed the Trader's Cart and now he had a jolly walk to The Green Dragon where his Uncle would soon be meeting him.


The hobbit was altogether unremarkable. He had light brown hair accompanied with his ruddy skin and dark brown eyes. His hair hung on is head in a mess of curls, unable to be tamed. Wearing a bright yellow shirt with a dark green traveling cloak thrown hastily about his shoulders, Milo also wore a pair of brown breeches that now had several unfortunate tears from his walking excursion. They were held about his frame by a pair of brown suspenders. He was a bit thinner than most hobbits, something his mother was forever commenting on. The Dragon looked nearly the same as the last time he had come. It was still smaller and easier to navigate than the Pony at home. He smiled, even though he was miles away from home, a tavern was a tavern. Loosening the clasp on his cloak, Milo brushed a bit of the road dust that had accumulated on his shoulders that day. His brown feet walked toward the bar in a tired ambling sort of way. Milo opened the small pouch on his belt, fumbling for a minute, seeing if he had brought enough for an ale. He smiled broadly as he found several coins and his walk quickened a bit.


He took an open seat at the bar, not having to hoist himself up like at home. Milo scratched as his head as he patiently waited. He pulled a twig from his hair and chuckled, tossing the small bit of foliage away. Milo absentmindedly pulled out his coins and began to fiddle with them on the bar.

[Dunwen]

A short, sturdy woman mounted on a small sturdy gray pony entered the stableyard. She patted the animal's neck and murmured, "It's been a pleasant jaunt this morning, hasn't it, Cinders? Let's get you unloaded and watered and see what's what in this place." The pony's ears flicked back at the sound of her mistress' voice and she snorted as if in agreement. She had enjoyed ambling along in the clear morning too, but it was time for a drink of water.

Pony and rider paused and looked at the bustling stableyard with interest. Horses, Humans, Elves and Hobbits were engaged in their daily business, and there was delicious scent of new-baked bread and and bacon wafting from somewhere. Seeing a fair-haired young woman and a lad coming from the stables, the woman dismounted and led Cinders over to them.

"Good morning," she said. "I need a stable and fodder for my pony, and a room for me, for the next day or two. Do you have room for us?"

Aman looked down at the Green Dragon's latest arrival. She saw a slightly stout, brown-haired woman about five feet tall leading a rough-haired gray pony by a worn bridle. The newcomer appeared to be in her early middle age, with a stern face somewhat softened by a pair bright hazel eyes surrounded by laugh lines. She was dressed simply, in a linen blouse and a pair of dark homespun breeches tucked into well-worn leather boots. Her only ornamentation was a pattern of gaily-colored flowers stitched at the neck of her shirt.

"We have room, indeed," Aman said. "We'll see to your beast at once. If you are hungry, we're serving breakfast in the common room."

To Aman's surprise, the woman smiled and shook her head. "Thank you, dear, but if you'll just show me the stall, I'll get Cinders here settled myself. Barliman speaks well of the Green Dragon, but I know what she likes."

The innkeeper was torn between approval of this woman's concern for her pony and chagrin at her implication that the Green Dragon might be lacking any necessities for man or beast. Approval won out -- mostly.

"As you wish, madam," she replied ruefully. After showing the new arrival a clean stall, Aman returned to the yard to greet the next arrival.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Several minutes later, the inn's newest guest entered the common room, carrying her saddlebags and looking pleased. If the condition of the stables was any indication, this would be a very pleasant place to stay. Looking around for an empty table, she noticed several hobbits, at least one Man, two other Women, an Elf and what appeared to be the remains of two dropped trays on the floor. Used to the constant pandemonium at the Prancing Pony, she calmly located an empty table and sat down, carefully arranging her saddlebags under her feet.

Catching the attention of a tray-laden hobbit-lass, she said courteously, "Little mistress, when you have a moment, I would be thankful for some hot tea, eggs, and buttered toast." In no time a warm plate containing a generous breakfast was placed in front her, along with a steaming mug of tea. "Thank-you, dear," she smiled. Handing the girl a copper penny, she continued, "I'm Widow Rosebank, from Bree. Would you mind asking the innkeeper if she might have a few minutes to talk to me?"

[Child of the 7th Age]

With a broad smile, Miz Bella glanced towards the woman who was called Widow Rosebank from Bree. She felt an instant liking for the sturdy figure, so practically dressed in breeches and boots. It was a guise she had often adopted on her own journeys to the furthest corners of Middle-earth. And Bree seemed like such a sensible, good natured place....a place where Big and Little Folk rubbed shoulders and had actually managed to be neighbors. Since returning home, Miz Bella had come to appreciate hobbit common sense, but occasionally found herself questioning the too prevelent attitude that there was nothing to be gained by poking one's nose outside the Shire boundaries. Widow Rosebank did not seem the type to put up with such nonsense.

Turning to the next table, Miz Bella issued an invitation for the stranger to come and join her. "I'll be leaving for the classroom in a bit but you are welcome to share a spot of tea and a bit of conversation before I go. I would be curious to hear how you made your way here. Once you finish your conversation with the Innkeeper, or even before, you are welcome to share my table."

With that Miz Bella gave an encouraging nod of her head, and slipped back into her chair. She was still thinking about a conversation she'd overheard between Woody and Gil that had centered on the possibility of making the story of Master Bilbo and the Dragon part of the puppet show for the Spring Faire. This seemed like a wonderful idea to Miz Bella, who was eager to have the children work on the props they would need. As Gil had suggested, they would require painted stones to serve as jewels, boxes transformed into treasure chests, and perhaps a 'skellyton' or two that the young lads would appreciate. When she noticed Ruby hurrying by laden with a tray of breakfast goodies, Miz Bella asked if she could leave a message for Gil to come see her if he should wander into the Inn.

Then she turned her attention to the one other guest in the room whose face was familiar to her: the Elf Thalion, father of her new student Neviel. As Miz Bella glanced at the Elf, she could see that he was staring solemnly into the inner pouches of his healer's kit; he seemed to be examining the small vials and packets of herbs to see what was there and what was missing. Once again, she made a welcoming gesture with her hand. Thalion came over to sit down.

"I wanted to thank you," Miz Bella noted, "for letting your son attend class. He is a bright and kind hearted boy, and is getting along well with the others. He was especially kind to the youngster Rory, the hobbit lad who has trouble walking. They got along well." She leaned forward and lowered her voice to ask, "Have you seen Rory? Please tell me. You are a healer. Do you think he could be helped to walk again?" Mi\z Bella had never been afraid to poke her own nose into another's business if she felt that some good could come out of it.

[Saelind]

Thalion


Thalion stared down at the table, carefully avoiding Miz Bella's probing eyes. He had seen the hobbit lad at dinner the night before and had listened to Neviel's earnest tale about how much trouble Rory had encountered trying to navigate the steps of the Inn. It had crossed Thalion's mind that something might be done, but whether he would be the right person for the task he wasn't sure.

Thalion glanced over at Miz Bella and then looked distractedly out the window before clearing his throat and beginning to speak, "Yes, I have seen the lad. Last night in the common room. But whether he can be helped or not, I could not say. Once, on a trip beyond Mirkwood, right after the great war, I worked with one man from Dale, who had lost the use of his limbs due to illness. It took many weeks of work and a fine pair of braces made by one of the Dwarven cratsmen, but he did regain his ability to walk."

"There was an Elf here a short while ago," continued Thalion. "He was a fellow named Mithalwen, whom Neviel said had some interest in devising a pair of braces for the lad. My own skill with such things is limited. I would be glad to work with the boy in teaching him to walk again. The harder part would be the brace. I have never fashioned such a device."

"You would do it then? You would at least try?" Miz Bella pressed, with a trace of excitement in her tone.

"I would certainly be willing to speak with Rory's mother, and see if she would agree to have me look at the lad. And perhaps I can check if Mithalwen is still about or if someone else has the skill to devise a brace. More than that I cannot promise."

Miz Bella reached out a hand to thank the Elf, and voiced her thanks, "It is more than I could have hoped for. As a word of warning, you might want to speak with Camille as well as her mother. She's very protective of her brother. It might go better if you put her mind at ease." Miz Bella remembered how uncomfortable Camille had been to hear that Neviel was joining the class, but she thought it best to keep that point to herself at the present moment.

"I shall keep that in mind," Thalion replied. Then the Elf stood up and went back to his job of sorting out packets and vials of herbs.

[Dunwen]

Widow Rosebank had scarcely had time to tuck into her tasty breakfast when a hobbit woman at the next table asked if she would like to join her. The widow wasn't surprised. Hobbits were generally gregarious, and never more so than at mealtimes. This hobbit looked like she might be a bit younger than the widow, and had an open, friendly air about her. She looked like she would be good company, and perhaps might be willing to talk about the Shire.

Unfortunately, the widow had just taken a large bite of egg and was unable to respond immediately. By the time she chewed and swallowed, her neighbor was speaking to one of the servers. The Bree-woman continued to eat as the little hobbit invited a somber-looking Elf to join her. She would have liked to go over then, just to get a closer look at him. She had dealt with Men of all sorts, and Hobbits and Dwarves often enough, but Elves traveling on the Great Road tended to go around the thickly populated Bree-land. She had once spoken briefly to an Elf she had met by chance a few years ago while walking through her daughter and son-in-law's fields, but that was the only contact she had had with the Fair Folk. However, he and the hobbit woman appeared to be having a private conversation, speaking quietly with their heads together.

As the Elf got up from the hobbit's table, Widow Rosebank thought she'd better get over there before the sociable stranger had to leave. She got up and slung her saddlebags over her shoulder. Picking up her mug and plate, she walked over and greeted the hobbit woman.

"Thank you kindly for asking me to join you. I do apologize for not answering you right away. I only travelled from Frogmorton this morning, but the fresh air does give you an appetite. If you don't have to leave right away, I could do with some company, not having been to the Shire before." Carefully setting her food and drink down, she shrugged the saddlebags off her shoulder and set them on the floor. "How d'you do," she said politely, once she had a hand free to offer the stranger. "I'm Ebba Rosebank, pleased to meet you."

The two shook hands. "I'm Miz Bella," replied the hobbit. "Pleased to meet you, too. Tell me how it is a Breelander finds her way to the Shire."

Ebba considered her answer for a moment. "Well, I do business with some of the farmers here who have sheep. I have a nice little store in Bree -- Rosebank's Drygoods and Notions," she said proudly, "and I sell wool for yarns and stitchery as well as cloth of all sorts, and a few things from Dale and the South, too. While I'm all for selling Bree-goods as much as I can, the wool from the Shire is as nice as I've seen, and there are more sheep here -- there would be, of course, the Shire is bigger than the Bree-lands -- and more wool. So I've dealt with some of your farmers for years through traders and such. Seeing as how my girls are old enough to mind the store for me, and as how I've never been out of the Bree-lands before, I thought I'd come myself this year. I've had customers traveling from the Shire for years talking about this tree of Mayor Gamgee's up at Bag End, and I've always wanted to see it. All gold it's supposed to be."

She stopped to take a sip of hot tea. "And then they're talking all the way to Bree about this fair you've got coming up, and I don't mind telling you that I'm mighty interested in that." She nodded significantly to Miz Bella. "I have a little business proposition for whoever is running it."

"Here now, I've run on about myself long enough. Are from you Bywater yourself?" Ebba settled back in her chair to give Miz Bella her turn to talk.

[Nurumaiel]

Marigold opened her mouth to say something, but caught herself just in time. Perhaps the threatening widening of Falco Headstrong's eyes helped her to remember. But, for goodness' sake, if his head hurt so much, why didn't he go back to his room? He said he didn't want breakfast, so there was really no reason to stay in the Common Room. Unless he liked the talking of all the people, which he couldn't, because it would make his headache worse. Why didn't he go? She liked his company when he was good company, but he was just a trial now. Sitting there, moaning, groaning, keeping her from speaking...

She turned discontented eyes away from him and they fell on an Elf that seemed to be looking at her. Immediately she blushed and dropped her eyes. Was that Elf looking at her? She had never expected that an Elf would notice her. She didn't seem interesting enough for an Elf, and aside from that she was so small that she was easily overlooked. What if the Elf was looking at her? What if the Elf tried to talk to her? How does one talk to an Elf? Would one try to speak very intelligently and very mysteriously?

She glanced up again quickly, and recognised the Elf as young Neviel. He had been at school. She smiled in great relief. It wouldn't be so bad to talk to Neviel. She wouldn't have to try to be Elvish.

He had caught her smile and had begun moving towards her. She recalled that Falco Headstrong was sitting at the table, and deciding it would be better to hold conversation away from him, she sprang up and hurried over to Neviel.

"Hello, Mr. Neviel," she said, slightly shy. "I'm so glad you came over. I've been wanting to talk all morning but Mr. Headstrong has a headache."

[Child of the 7th Age]

Mis Bella listened quietly as Widow Rosebank explained how and why she'd come to the Shire and about her business back in Bree. When the Widow had come to the end of her explanation, Miz Bella threw back her head and laughed, "I'm definitely not the one to see about transactions at the Faire. I am a newcomer myself to these parts and a teacher of young children. Business dealings were always beyond me. Maybe that's because I am a Took, born and raised outside these lands, one of the very few hobbits whose father went roaming far from the Shire. You see, father was never much for practical things either," added Miz Bella with a sigh.

"But that's enough about me. I do admire gumption in a hobbit, and you seem to have plenty of it. I know there are folk here who could help you. Cook, now, knows everyone in these parts and can put you in touch with someone with a good business head on their shoulders."

"But there is one thing you said that I am definitely interested in," Mix Bella stared fixedly at the Widow. "I love good yarns and such. You wouldn't happen to have any of those finished yarns for stitchery along with you? I'm looking to buy some for the little ones who come to my class. They'll be working on the props for one of the plays that's to be put on at the Faire. A bit of brightly colored yarn would do well both for decoration and even for sewing some of the puppet costumes and such."

"If you've got such along with you, I'd be mighty obliged to have a look...."