The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Dunwen]

"I should like to buy them, but my pockets are empty, and I haven't even a penny to pay for all this."

Ebba was hard put not to chuckle at the Elf-boy's earnest words. She managed to keep a straight face as she replied, "You're a proper honest lad and no mistake. As it happens, Miz Bella here asked about my yarns and threads and was deciding on them before you came over." With a wink at the young elf and his hobbit companion she added in a loud whisper, "I think she wanted some help making up her mind."

Neviel, reassured, returned to looking over the yarns with Marigold's assistance. Across the table, Miz Bella had had to resort to hiding her laughter in her napkin at the widow's last sentence, which of course she had heard quite clearly.

Ebba decided it was time to conclude the deal. Quickly sorting through Miz Bella's choice of yarn, she placed the largest share of the pile to one side. "These I could let you go ahead and have without charge," she said briskly. Gesturing toward the remaining few skeins, she said, "These are harder for me to come by, and I would need to charge you for them."

Miz Bella, expecting to indulge in a bit of friendly haggling over all the goods she had selected, was surprised into a protest. "Surely you can't afford to give all this away," she said, laying a hand on the large pile of yarns.

"Mmmmm," Ebba shrugged enigmatically. "Happens I have a soft spot for anybody who can teach reading and writing. I didn't learn myself till I was grown, and it's a good thing I did then. I wouldn't have been able to take care of my family if I hadn't known my letters and ciphering and all. Now you can have this", pointing to the large pile, "if you'll pay me for these," indicating the smaller pile of threads. She named a price for the smaller pile which would scarcely make a dent in Miz Bella's purse.

Pleased at this bit of unexpected good fortune, Miz Bella agreed after only a little bit of haggling (for politeness' sake).

[Bêthberry]

A dark shadow crossed over the sunlight streaming through the window of the Green Dragon. Patrons rose in shocked surprise only to see a brown falcon swoop low through the door and drop a large scroll from one clawed leg onto a large wooden table.

"Why, that's Wyrd, Bethberry's falcon," one voice cried as several arms contested to catch the bird.

Evading them, however, Wyrd flew out again, leaving patrons to read the missive which bore a return address

"Well, now," said one. "It's not such a hike to Rohan, is it?"

"Naw, it t'ain't. And anybody's allowed to be a squatter, not just them Rohan types."

[The Perky Ent]

"For many a year I've walked this Earth, and I have but one thing to show for it." Barnaby grabbed a flask from his green tunic, and drank its contents. "Ale". Looking over a hill, Barnaby spied the Bywater. He took a vial of ink, a long purple quill, and a tearing peace of parchment from out of his jacket. As he looked over the list, he made several markings. Looking finally to a small blank space on the parchment, he smirked and tucked the supplies back into his jacket. Grabbing his walking stick, he strode down the hill to the Green Dragon.

Barnaby was an average hobbit; he loved the Shire, and its bounty. Ever since he was a lad, Barnaby showed a true passion for drinking. He was not an alcoholic, but a connoisseur. For over sixty years, Barnaby had gone from one end of the Shire to the other, in search of the perfect ale. He had not found the ideal drink yet, but he had vowed to keep searching until he had found it.

Walking down the road, he stopped at last to a crowded establishment. “Ah! The Green Dragon. I think I shall start here. “ Barnaby said, as he walked into the Inn. Inside, he found a multitude of yelling, cheering, and of course, drinking. He struggled for a second, dodging a rather drunk hobbit who promptly fell at Barnaby’s feet. “This will prove interesting.” He said, as he walked on down to a table. He caught the eye of a woman carrying drinks. She walked on over to Barnaby. “And what can I get you today?” she said. “Oh, I think an ale will be fine for now” Barnaby said, as she walked away.

Several minutes later, she came back with the drink. “Thank you, Milady “ Barnaby said, as she walked away. Barnaby took out his parchment and quill, and then started to sip the drink. At once, a surge of please and excitement ripped across his entire body. He went down on the ale like a worg ravaging a dead carcass. “That…that was…more!” he said, as he scribbled down the drinks taste on his parchment. “I think I shall be here a while” he thought, as he got up, and walked over to the woman who gave him the drink. “Excuse me Ma’am, but can you direct me to the innkeeper? “

[Alcarillo]

Alcarillo took careful note of the inns along the road. He did not want to sleep by the roadside and let unexpected weather soak his belongings, or find that the horse he had borrowed from a friend was stolen. Alcarillo would find it very awkward to tell Nárello back in Harlond that his horse was now gone, with a new rider or wandering the wild.

"Do you fish, Master Nession?" Miz Greengage asked.

Alcarillo's mind returned to the conversation at hand. "No, I'm afraid I don't," he answered, "I was never very fond of eating fish. My sister's husband, however, is a fisherman. He eats nothing but fish every day." Alcarillo nibbled on the last slice of bread. "He's taken me out on his boat numerous times. One time we ran out of food, and had to fish over the side of the boat. That was one of the few times I have eaten fish willingly." Alcarillo smiled at the fond memories of sailing the great sea. "Those were the days before the Shire was founded, before your folk came over the mountains, if I recall the words of the books in my study correctly." He finished the last of his tea.

It must still be mid-morning, he judged by the light through the windows. Alcarillo felt that he should leave soon if he wanted to reach the next inn by sunset, but Miz Greengage was an interesting character, and he was enjoying their conversation.

[Angel_Queen]

Ravon walked through the front doors of the Green Dragon. She had been absent for a while. Ravon and Lewis had finally returned from their trip to Rohan. She still wasn't sure if getting married in Rohan was the best idea. After all none of her family was there. But her mother had sailed from Middle Earth many years ago leaving Ravon to take care of herself.

Just before the doors closed Ravon heard a thud and turned to see that her husband had been hit by the massive doors. Attempting to hold back a laugh Ravon opened the door the rest of the way. "I'm sorry dear I forgot that you was even back there. My mind wondered off for just a second." Amongst all the shouts inside the inn Ravon still couldn't help but tend to her other half. "Lewis are you ok?" Despite all the years Lewis had spent fighting, Ravon knew that the force behind the door must have caused some sort of injury. A glimmer of crimson red liquid told Ravon all she needed.... Lewis' nose was bleeding.

Aicanara walked into the Green Dragon, hood still drawn up over her. Shaking back her hood, she let her dark, long hair fall carelessly down her back. He grey eyes scanned the room. She stood tall, with pale skin, the trademark complexion of an elf. She tucked her hair behind pointed ears and walked over to the innkeeper.

"I need a place to stay for a while. Would you be so kind?" Taking her key from the innkeeper, she gathered up what little stuff that she had brought with her and made the journey to her room.

Setting down her things, she took of her cloak completely, hanging it up on one of the convienient hooks on the wall. She turned down the bed, and assured that her steed would be safe in the stables, fell on to the bed and fell into a deep, much needed and much deserved sleep.

[Hiriel]

Crouched over slightly to avoid detection in the dusty pall of mid-morning , Lara Stonetoe trotted towards the Green Dragon Inn. She was in a state of half-elation and half-terror as she approached the window of the building from the back, not daring the door. After all, Fred’s bet had said nothing about actually going in, both of them not even near their tweens yet. She’d be in such trouble. And as bored as her mother had been lately, she did not relish the prospect of getting caught as she might have done otherwise, just to see the jumpy old busybody blast off, like the tales of Wizard Fireworks her gammer sometimes told.

Licking her lips which had somehow withered, whether from the heat or the nerves she couldn’t tell, Lara had to jump up several times, bobbing like fish bait in the Brandywine, to get a firm hold of the dusty window ledge. But even though her limbs were shaking like mad, the view inside was worth it. Oh, Fred was going to be so jealous when she told him about it! There was an elf accepting keys to a room, great gaffers alive, a real elf! Standing calm yet proud, her great ears pointed skyward, her eyes full of, well, it was something Lara couldn’t quite put words too. Starlight, but more brilliant, and more delicate. She even forgot to think how horribly jealous Fred would be, and how chicken he would feel for brushing off the bet when she got home and told him all about it.

Forgetting her earlier fear and squinting till her eyes were almost a line of wrinkles, she peered deeper into the tavern to find several hobbits taking their ease and, bless the Thain, another elf, in light conversation with a hobbit her mother knew, Miz Greenbow or Greenfen or Greengage or somersuch. Was it possible for some creature so high as an elf to be talking pleasantly to normal hobbit gentlefolk? Lara’s mouth opened slightly, struck with the wonder of it. But by now her limbs were tired and her neck wheezed, whining in complaint of the angle she was using to look. “Well, it wouldn’t be such a risk to take a peek through the door, she thought, licking her dry lips again. “ My legs are sore, and it’d put Fred right in his place, too! This seemed to be far more convincing than her still nervous feelings on peering into a place meant for hobbits twice her age, and so she crouched below the sightline of the window, and feeling increasing foolish at her care, crept towards the front door.

Her worry was for naught, however, for as she slunk towards the door, two other big folk (she wasn’t sure if they were men or elves, having never seen so many tall people together in one place before) made to enter it. Lara, gasping, clubbed, ripped her body backwards, clutching to the corner of the wall, but lost her balance in the bargain. The slighter of the two made it in the door fine, but she tripped into the big wooden frame just as the second made to enter it, knocking him flat.