The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

Originally Posted by Ibun

‘I say, Frór. When you’re done with your meal there, might I offer you a pipeful?’

Frór promptly replyed : I must say that you are a most generus dwarf Master Ibun ! !
This is a offer a cannot refuse. Many days have gone since i last smelld the superb smell of pipe weed.

As he finished his meal Frór was thinking of the great wounds a creature like "Durins Bane" could give, even the greatest of halls. Then a darknest gatherd in Frór's mind, he did not know why, but it became clear to him that his fate was bound to the misty mountains that he feard so much. "a dwarf scared of mountains it is unheard of! he thought to him self".

His thought returned to Ibun and his jurney. Frór could not belive that the dwarves of Khazad-dum was in such dire need, that they were searching in every dwarf colony for Longbeards. This was i deed bad news, but then again it might be his fortune!

Frór then looked at Ibun and spoke:
Tell me Master Ibun. witch way are you planing on taking out of this funny land, to the Blue Mountains. As i sayed, i my self are heading towards the dwarf dwellings there, so it would be most usefull information if you cared to share it.

[Folwren]

"Allow me to introduce myself: I am Fredegar Chubb, but you shall call me Fatty as does everyone else. I may not be much to look at yet, but I plan on becoming quite robust some day! My brother and I are in the employ of our cousin – our third cousin, once removed, to be precise – our cousin Fordogrim. And I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, young master and would be greatly pleased to know your name.”

Tim gaped slightly as he took Fredagar's offered hand. Then he shut his mouth and nodded. "I'm Tim. Tim Woodlock, sir. And..." he paused. Perhaps it wouldn't be polite to tell the hobbit not to call him 'master'. But it was awfully uncomfortable. Especially if everyone called him that. He'd leave it alone. "I can take one of the ponies," he said instead. "Your brother doesn't have to get them both." Fatty nodded and Tim turned around and silently took one of the ponies bridle. He and Gerdy led them to the water trough beside the inn wall and let them drink their fill.

"How long are you going to be here?" Tim asked, as he watched them drink. "Should I put them up in a stall, or just hitch them over there?" He indicated to the hitching posts and, forgetting momentarilly how Gerdy might go on forever, waited for the hobbit's reply.

[Thinlómien]

Brith was so carried away with her thoughts, that it took a while for her to realise that someone had spoken to her. She saw a halfling looking up at her curiously. "Oh, yes, I'm fine, miss", she said a bit embarassed. "Thank you", she added a bit more warmly and even managed to smile.

Brith entered the inn and sat to an empty table nearby. She was happy to give her body some rest for the day's riding. She let her eyes wander around the room. She didn't see any waiters or such, but decided to stay at the table. Probably someone will come, at least if not soon, then later. It's not so important, actually, she thought, Probably this is all because of the thing of serving free beer outside. Well, I'd prefer warm food and some wine, if they have, to a pint of beer.

[Dunwen]

Widow Rosebank rinsed her face and hands, taking pleasure in the feel of the clean warm water on her skin. The roads in the Shire were not nearly as dusty as the Great Road from Bree to the Brandywine Bridge, and she had traveled only a short distance that morning, but she had discovered that she did like to freshen up after traveling. Normally she would have cleaned up right after breakfast, but she had been sidetracked by the friendly hobbit, Miz Bella. Drying her face and hands, the widow thought of her ‘sale’ of threads to Miz Bella and shook her head. She had certainly done her purse no favor!

‘Ah well,’ she thought, ‘there’s other profit besides gold and silver.’ The teacher seemed to be a person of some importance at the Green Dragon; besides, Ebba Rosebank had a high regard for teachers. Ebba hoped Miz Bella might put in a good word for her if she could fine someone to talk to about selling her goods at this fair she’d heard about.

Having finally cornered one of the serving girls and paid for a room at the Green Dragon for a few days, Ebba needed to unpack her things. The two large leather saddlebags had been tossed on the wooden chair near the large bed (at least large by hobbit standards; even though she was a small Woman, Ebba would have been cramped in hobbit-sized furniture). Placing them on the bed, Ebba took out a change of clothes and neatly arranged her personal belongings in the clothes press cleverly built into one corner of the room. Her remaining merchandise was a bit of a problem, though. There wasn’t a lot, as she had had to fit it into one of her bags, but Ebba didn’t care to have her goods out for the taking. The Green Dragon was clearly a decent respectable house, but thieves could visit even the nicest places. After changing, she looked around the small room to see if there was a secure place for her merchandise.

The door opened to show a small washstand with a pitcher and bowl along the right-hand wall, with a mirror above it. Directly opposite the door was a window with a chair in front of it, inviting a guest to sit down and enjoy the bright midday sun shining in. The bed, covered with a pretty blue and green quilt, was next to the chair and window, with a night stand beyond it in the corner. The clothes press was a medium-sized cupboard at the angle of the walls closest to the foot of the bed. Between the clothes press and the doorway, opposite the foot of the bed, a row of pegs held Widow Rosebank’s now-empty saddlebags, the breeches and the blouse she’d traveled in, and the woolen cloak she’d brought in case of bad weather.

Ebba shut the door and pondered the small, plain room. “I don’t think you could hide a mouse’s whisker in here,” she said to herself. Suddenly a thought struck her. “Aha,” she exclaimed. After rearranging a few things, she stood by door and looked around the room once more. It wasn’t perfectly safe, but at least now there was no sign of the things she’d brought with her to sell.

As long as the whereabouts of the innkeeper continued to be a mystery, Ebba would see if she could coax some information out of the cook. The hobbit that had shown her up to the room (Ruby, was it?) Had shown a lively fear of the ruler of the Green Dragons kitchen, but had stammered out a name: Vinca Bunce.

[Arry]

‘Thanks . . . I think . . . I mean yes, thanks.’ Gil stammered, the red from his cheeks flaming up to his ears.

Good gravy! What was the matter with him? He felt hot and cold and quite unable to speak. And there was Rowan staring at him in a curious manner. And beyond her, the Elf . . . whose brows were raised so high they nearly met his hairline.

‘Look,’ he said, taking a deep breath and trying to stand casually. ‘We . . . I seem to have gotten off to a bad start. Let’s try again.’

Gil pulled out the chair to his right and nodded at Rowan. ‘Would you like to break your fast with me, Miss Foxburr?’ he asked gaining back a little of his composure. He managed a little grin. ‘Or if you’ve already eaten . . . then a little second breakfast perhaps?’

Emlin nodded at the little scene. He seemed to smile a bit, then waved good-bye as he headed toward the Inn door . . .

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger and Wren encounter the Widow Rosebank

‘One of the lasses had to go home to be with her sick Da,’ Buttercup said, motioning for Ginger and Wren to draw closer to the linen cupboard. ‘The guests will be needing fresh towels and washcloths for the day. So, take these two stacks upstairs,’ instructed Buttercup, ‘and put fresh ones by the wash stand. Make sure you knock first so’s you don’t disturb anybody. Just leave the used towels and such in the hall, the laundry girl will go through after you and pick them up in her basket.’ She loaded up Ginger’s arms with a tall stack of fluffy towels topped with an equal number of wash cloths. ‘Take Wren, too. She can take this basket of fresh cut flowers up and put them in the vases.’

Ginger couldn’t see over the stack of towels as she and Wren made their way down the first hall, where many of the Big Folk were staying in the larger sized rooms. Wren followed along behind, her view blacked by ginger and her load.

‘Oh, my goodness!’ yelped Ginger as she bounced off something in front of her. The towels spilled from her arms and landed at the woman’s feet. ‘My gosh! Are you alright? Did I hurt you?’ Ginger flushed a deep pink, setting off the sprinkle of sandy freckles that played across her nose. She hurriedly picked up the fallen towels trying to put them in some semblance of order.

In an effort to regain her composure, she curtsied to the woman and nodded toward the room the woman had apparently just left. ‘We’re bringing round fresh towels and face cloths . . . and flowers, too. Could we leave some for you, ma’am?’

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

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Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Meri - Stablemaster

Tim Woodlock - Stableboy; Wren - his younger sister: humans, originally from Breeland (characters played by Folwren)

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

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Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

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About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

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EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Gerdy Chubb

"How long will we be staying.... Well, herm. That's a hard one to answer Master Tim, and that's for sure. We won't be leaving before we've made ourselves a few customers, but we can't stay so long that we neglect our regulars back home. So it's a balance we need to strike."

"Well," Tim ventured again, "can you guess?"

"Guess?" Gerdy's eyes grew wide at the thought of such a daring move. "I daresay I could guess, but how right would it be, that's the question! But if it's a guess you want, then it's a guess I should give you. Let me see," he fell to pondering for a while. "Well," he said at last, "we can't leave and go back home today so the earliest we'll be going is tomorrow, as we can't travel at night neither. As to the longest time we could stay, well, we could -- I suppose -- stay here and run the business by letter with the occasaional visit back home, but then our families would miss us by and by... I guess the longest we could stay would be a month or two. So that's my guess: we'll be leaving sometime between tomorrow morning and the end of two months from now!" And he beamed at Tim with the conclusiveness of his statement.

Fordogrim Chubb

"Ahh, the Innkeeper!" Fordogrim said, bowing low (which brought his head dangerously close to Aman's foot). "I was wanting to make your acquaintance. And let me say that I understand your position entirely, I do that indeed! I'm a businesshobbit myself and wouldn't like if someone else starting giving away their wares on my front stoop, not a bit of it! So have no fear, Mistress Aman, have no fear. If my ales do well here then you shall have the profit by it too!" He stuck his hands into his pockets and lowered his voice, obliging the tall woman to stoop to the ground to hear him. He assumed a conspiratorial air. "If folk hereabout like my ales and as want to drink them, I am a-willing to give you the sole right to serve them up, and" he added hurriedly, seeing that this did not move Aman to immediate glee, "for the first six months" he looked at her face once more and then spoke again "for the first year, I shall be happy to offer you the ale at my special family rate! Now how can you say anything other than fair to that, eh?" And he stuck out his hand by way of making a bargain.

[Esgallhugwen]

"My name is Esgallhugwen", she replied with a faint smile noticing the young Elf lass blush. "And I am most happy to help, the Shire can be quite intimidating for us Fair Folk who are unused to the more humble Hobbit ways".

She herself never willingly going into public until recently could relate, but while she stayed tucked in a corner on that fateful rainy day, they desired a more direct approach. Who could blame them?

Eswen's eyes glimmered, "So tell me what brings two young Elves to the Shire?"

[Undómë]

Two voices spoke in tandem. Like two refrains that played against each other - the one as light and merry as the other was darker and less genial.

‘Why I don’t find the Shire intimidating in the least!’ said Telu, just as her brother sighed, and muttered more to himself than in answer to the observation by Esgallhugwen. ‘Would not have chosen to come, to be truthful, save I promised my mother I would look after her.’

The two looked at each other - Tindo, frowning, his face set in a disapproving manner. Telu, on the other hand, simply bit her lip, hoping to quash the smile that threatened to grow there. It was the smile, however, that won the day; it blossomed into a wide grin and erupted further into a tinkling silvered laughter that rang in the air. Telu grabbed her brother’s hands and darted forward quickly to plant a kiss on his cheek.

‘Don’t be cross, Tindo!’ she said, taking his hand as the three Elves walked back to the table.

‘We’re on our way to Ithilien,’ Telu said, pulling her chair out and sitting down. ‘That is, I want to go there. I’ve heard from some of the Elves who’ve come to Lindon that a number of our kin from the Woodland Realm have been welcomed there by the new Prince of Ithilien – one Faramir, or so I’ve heard him called. They say it is a lovely land and that often the new King among men and his Lady visit.’ Her face had a faraway look on it, one of longing. ‘It would be grand to know that there is a place yet where our people prosper. And the Lady, Arwen Undómiel, I should very much like to meet her. Well, perhaps, even just see her.’

Telu had waited until Esgallhugwen was seated before he took his chair. Now he sat back in it, a look of resigned fondness on his face. ‘She is such a dreamer,’ he murmured. ‘A starry-eyed deamer. And far too trusting. Now you see how full my hands are with the keeping safe of her!’

The server had come with their food and drink as they spoke. A large pot of tea and three cups, a pot of appleblossom honey. Fresh bread in a napkin lined basket, sweet cream butter, and peach jam. ‘Please, help yourself, Lady Esgallhugwen,’ Tindo said, remembering his manners. ‘Telu, you pour the tea please.’ As his sister did so, he took the first mug and offered it to Esgallhugwen. ‘We’ve talked so much about ourselves, we’ve hardly given you the chance to say anything.’ He passed her the bread and the jam. ‘Where are you from” that is, if you don’t mind saying,’ he added. He took a small sip of the hot tea with honey, enjoying to his surprise the taste of it. ‘And where are you bound, that you find yourself in the Shire?’