The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Kath]

It had shocked Astilwen to learn that the woman in front of her didn't even remember her own name she had been running from her past for so long. The death of a loved one was thankfully something she had never had to endure, but she had been around those who had, and knew the pain and grief that went with it.

It seemed though that this snake had destroyed not only the life of one sister, but also of Tilionwen herself, and very likely that of her father as well. For years the poor man must have thought that both of his daughters were dead. She wondered whether the woman had thought about it like that, which was better - to believe both daughters were dead or to know one was alive? Still, it was not her place to say anything.

She understood now why Tilionwen had been staring so intently at the Moon, and why she was so sad. She had suffered so much, and Astilwen couldn't yet work out whether she blamed herself for her sister's death, or whether she believed some other force had sent the rain that forced them to stay outside, and the snake that had delivered the deadly blow.

Gently smiling back at Tilionwen's comment Astliwen noted the sudden silence that had fallen, and realised the woman was giving her a chance to ask any questions she might still have. She didn't want to interfere, and she really didn't want to offend, but she had to ask.

"Don't you think your father would wish to know you're alive? He's lost so much already, knowing you were alive might help him. And . . . you do know that you're not to blame, don't you?"

[Lhunardawen]

"Don't you think your father would wish to know you're alive? He's lost so much already, knowing you were alive might help him. And . . . you do know that you're not to blame, don't you?"

A sad smile crossed Tilionwen's lips as she heard the hobbit's words. Now that she had somehow regained her sanity, all memories of her father came rushing back to her mind...and she felt how terribly he missed him. If only coming back to him was that easy...

"Before now, I've always blamed myself for what happened. I thought I should have stayed awake. I should have been the one protecting her, instead of the other way around. Perhaps that's why it was so easy for the moon to enslave me. But things have changed. I don't know how, but I'm sure they have." The wind blew around a strand of her long dark hair, and she tucked it behind her ear. "I'm just...I'm just scared. I don't know how my father will receive me. He could blame me for everything, and it would kill me if he ever refuses to forgive me.

"But I guess it's a risk I will have to take. He deserves to know what happened. And he deserves to know, no matter how it would hurt him, that my sister is already dead. That I'm the only one he has left." And once again, she smiled gratefully at the hobbit. No words could have done the job better.

Suddenly Tilionwen laughed, and a touch of red flushed on her cheeks. "Why, I seem to be forgetting my manners! I have never asked your name. And while you're at it, I guess it's your turn to tell me your tales. Anything to cheer me up; I never want to go back to that miserable life again." With that she grinned mirthfully, and eagerly turned towards the hobbit. The cares that had marred her face for so long vanished and a youthful glow remained in their place.

[Arry]

'Let's do the one we've just recently practiced.' Gil's instructions brought smiles to the faces of his band members.

'Ah, yes,' said Tomlin, his smile becoming a big grin. He drew his bow across the strings of his fiddle, listening for the right series of sounds. 'And you'll of course sing it . . .yes?'

Gil stepped up to the front of the stage and spoke in a loud voice. 'Here's a song for all you lads as have been struck down by beauty. And still revel in it nonetheless.


Gentlemen it is me duty
To inform you of one beauty
Though I'd ask of you a favour
Not to seek her for a while
Though I own she is a creature
Of character and feature
No words can paint the picture
Of the Queen of all Argyll

And if you could have seen her there
Boys, if you had just been there
The swan was in her movements
And the morning in her smile
All the roses in the garden
They bow and ask her pardon
For not one could match the beauty
Of the Queen of all Argyll

On the evening that I mentioned
I passed with light intention
Through a part of our dear country
Known for beauty and for style
In the place of noble thinkers
Of scholars and great drinkers
But above them all for splendour
Shone the Queen of all Argyll

And if you could have seen her there
Boys, if you had just been there
The swan was in her movements
And the morning in her smile
All the roses in the garden
They bow and ask her pardon
For not one could match the beauty
Of the Queen of all Argyll

So my lads I needs must leave you
My intentions no' to grieve you
Nor indeed would I deceive you
Oh I'll see you in a while
I must find some way to gain her
To court her and attain her
I fear my heart's in danger
From the Queen of all Argyll

And if you could have seen her there
Boys, if you had just been there
The swan was in her movements
And the morning in her smile
All the roses in the garden
They bow and ask her pardon
For not one could match the beauty
Of the Queen of all Argyll

And if you could have seen her there
Boys, if you had just been there
The swan was in her movements
And the morning in her smile
All the roses in the garden
They bow and ask her pardon
For not one could match the beauty

Of the Queen of all Argyll . . .

[JennyHallu]

As Farael walked back to the table with her hairpin, Losse stalked behind him, furious at the self-satisfied way he walked. He probably thought that was very clever and smooth, pushing me over and pulling my hair, she fumed silently, glaring back at anyone who glanced her way and caressing the handle of the blade she kept in her sleeve. She'd almost flipped it out on the dance-floor in her anger, only the milling feet of the other dancers trying to get out of the way of her fall reminding her just how bad an idea that would be.

Farael handed her hairpin to the Elven lady, who was now talking to another elf, with what Losse was sure he thought was a courtly bow. Too many people...she satisfied herself with rudely and bitterly critiquing his form to herself.

The man left soon afterward, and Losse made her apologies quickly to the Elven lady, who did not seem to even notice she was there, nor even the hairpin she had set back down on the table, so engrossed was she in her companion and in the flower she twirled in her fingers, muttering to herself in Elvish. Losse palmed the hairpin, and followed quickly after Farael, apologizing angrily to those she elbowed in her haste. The band started a new set and Losse's steps became more graceful as she unconsciously walked in a near dance with the infectious music, but it didn't erase the stormy cloud brewing in her sea-gray eyes. A horrible mess involving a cat and a punch bowl had gathered quite a crowd between the guest tables at the edge of the courtyard and the inn, and it was there that she was able to catch up with Farael, gripping his elbow and spinning him around with more strength than her slim frame appeared to have.

"Can I speak with you?" she hissed angrily, indicating that they should go indoors. "Alone? I would let you explain your rudeness on the dance floor, which is more than I ought to do."

[Farael]

Dark thoughts clowded Farael's mind. He had become too attached to the elf, even though he knew nothing more than a friendship could have ever taken place. She was probably thirty years his elder, not to mention the 'friendly' brother she had. If her parents were like that, family dinners must have been a riot! He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

The table where the ales waited (and called) for him was near, when someone gripped his elbow and spun him as if he were a rag-doll. It was a great surprise not to find a seven feet man but rather the lithe and fit Losse. He looked into her angry eyes, not even paying attention to her words and what had been a chuckle turned into laughter. This sudden bout of merriment healed the sad mood that hung over Farael, which prompted even more laughs.

Although his laughter was heart-felt and out of sheer happyness, it did little to calm the friendly thief. As soon as Farael managed to catch his breath, he bowed deeply to Losse

"Miss, I must say I understimated you," he said and tossed her a small bag containing a few coins "I believe this belongs to you. I thought it was a smart move to distract you with the hairpin deal while I took your money. A thief deserves a thief they say, and I felt it was just fair you had an example of how it felt. You must be really skilled, I was thinking I had you fooled but it was not the case."

A wink, another bow and a fit of laughter later, Farael offered Losse his hand. "I hope you can forgive me, I was outraged at what you attempted on Teluyaviel. But now I see she can look after herself and I would not want you as an enemy. How about we call a truce and maybe talk for a little while?"

[JennyHallu]

Angrily Losse snatched back her purse, expertly weighing it in her hand before tying it back to her belt with a complex knot, completely quickly with long, deft fingers. If she was surprised, not a trace of it showed on her still-stormy face.

"I don't know who you think you are, master Farael, but I have done nothing to deserve this treatment from you," she snapped, rattled by his near-hysterical laughter. "I do not find it amusing."

Then she softened, if only a little. "I suppose, if you promise not to pull my hair again, I will allow you to buy me a drink in recompense. And...I must confess my bafflement. I expected you to have cut the purse-strings, but you left them whole. Where, when, and how did you learn a Gondorian thief-knot? Just building enough of a reputation to be noticed by the professionals is hard enough, much less be taught the knot." She smiled to herself, remembering the night when she'd been accepted into that shadowy organisation. She knew this Farael wasn't a member, or, seeing the knot, he'd have let the purse be, but where had he learned it? A sailor perhaps?

[Nogrod]

Rían brought two pints from the desk, and came back to the table where Grimhorn had set himself down. He sent the other pint gliding over the table, and Grimhorn catched it comfortably. Grimhhorn grinned again, that very weird smile he had. Then he nodded, as like an approval of sorts. Reddie relaxed a bit and leaned to his chair’s back, testing different lines at the back of his mouth, about how to start a conversation.

But obviously there was not going to be any conversation for a while, for the beer really seemed to have come to a need for this giant. He wasn’t sure, whether this tower of a man regarded him anything more than the smoky air around them. Thinking about which reminded him of his pipe. He started to fill his pipe with The Old Boff’s, he always tried to have with him. Making this familiar routine kind of settled him a bit, his hands didn’t even shake any more. Rían pressed the pipe for a couple of times to make sure the bed was well laid and then lit it carefully. He took a couple of puffs, and then inhaled the smoke, making a couple of small rings from the outpouring smoke. Grimhorn seemed to delve in his own thoughts, so Rían also closed his eyes and kind of went into himself.

What a lovely sight! Two beornings, both sitting against each other at a table, in an inn full of noise and partying people. Just sitting there, both in their own worlds. They had kind of created a bubble of their own around that table. But compared to the similar bubble that lovers do manage to create almost anywhere, this bubble was not so much theirs’, as they both were in it separately.

There was something unsettling in that grin, Rían thought to himself. Just one of those grins, combined with the stature of this guy, could have scared the Morgoth out of anyone. But being a beorning himself, or at least a half-beorning raised in a beorning community, Reddie should have managed to be quite familiar with it. But still there was something hounting in it, as though it would have been familiarity of a more concrete sort, in a more particular way. And he had never even met this man! No, it couldn’t be anything like that.

Suddenly Rían had a thought that made cold chills go all around his body. His hands started to shake again, not in any clearly noticeable fashion, but he did sense it himself. Grimhorn as well seemed to have come back from his well earned rest with the beer, and had started looking at Reddie somewhat intensely. Then Rían just felt, that he would have to ask this, no matter, what the consequences would be.

“So, did you really say, you are the son of Grimgor? The son of “Grimgor Bearhand”, Grimgor “the Owl’s eye”, “the one that runs at dusk”?”. The band had started playing again, and Rían would have given all that he had, for a negative answer.

[Farael]

"Gondorian thief-knot? Enhmer you rascal!!" Farael shook his head, grinning "I learned it during my time as an archer for the Army of Gondor. A friend of mine taught it to me. Thief-knot you say? well, that explains an awful lot" He chuckled, still aware of how Losse may have been feeling.

As he tried to calm down, two men walked by him. One was cloaked in shadows and Farael did not think of him twice. The second wore an armor he had seen years before and carried a spear. A spear in the shire. The thought was so odd Farael could not help but to laugh yet again. By the time the fit of laughter passed, he realized he had been holding on to Losse not to fall flat on the ground. It was a grotesque situation, a big man like himself laughing like a child and holding on to a woman for support. He looked into her eyes and could not stop the laughs yet another time.

It was a few minutes this time before Farael could catch his breath. "I... I do apologise Miss Losse, forgetting the thievery you have been very nice to talk to. Of course, you call yourself a thief and so I shall not trust you easily. I sure wish you were not, a fair lady from Gondor who may or may not have been born in a noble family who is not afraid to travel to a far-off land is unique indeed." He tried smiling his most charming smile and fighting back the chuckles that had not yet abandoned him. It would not do to laugh this time.