The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Dairym]

"Memories are good, Ravennar, even the sad ones," Heather smiled, quoting one of Maggie's endless proverbs. She looked around. The dancers had begun to wander off; the musicians one by one finished playing. The party was over. "Are you going to stay tonight? Your road is still a long one." Heather sighed quietly. To visit the shores of Nenuiel! She envied his luck. If only...

An obvious solution presented itself. She paused, examining it with unusual daring. Her father would not question her on her trip; he need never know. She had days and days before the harvest when she would truly be needed. As she stood up, the prism bumped against her leg, urging her on.

"Ravennar...would you... do you think I could go with you?" Heather hurried on before he could respond. "I mean I might be of help, you being from foriegn parts, and... and I've always dreamed of visiting Evendim."

[Dimturiel]

Ravennar felt his eyes widen when he heard Heather's request. At first, he could not clearly understand what she wanted to say, so baffled he was. So fate had indeed decided to give him another chance. He tried to ignore the pang of uneasiness that he felt. Was he ready to return among people? Would that not lead him again to sorrow?

Ravennar shook his head. No, he should not think like this. Heather was right, she could help him. And he had grown fond of her, the first friendly face that he had seen in a long time.

He looked arround. Few now remained in the inn yard. The songs had stopped, and in the air the melancholic silence of the night was settling. The time had come for him to move on.

"Very well," he said to Heather, "we shall go. I am glad, Heather, glad that you stumbled upon me, and got me out of my dark brooding. I shall be glad to be your companion, also."

He smiled, gazing at the bright stars high above him. He felt confident, and happy, and young. What had happened in the past was to remain behind, and he would start out as a new person.

[Kath]

Astilwen could see that Tilionwen had picked up on her little evasion and, after watching the war within for a few moments, had decided to question her on it.

"But you didn't answer me completely," Came the sly reply.

Sighing, Astilwen cast her mind back a few months, searching for a way to reply. She was still embarrassed about the whole incident, but after everything Tilionwen had told her that night, it was only fair to offer something in return.

"I met someone back in Hobbiton a while back and we, um, well we sort of got together."

Tilionwen's eyes lit up, and she leant forward. Astilwen followed suit, wanting to keep the conversation a little private, as it was quite possible that there were some people around her who knew her parents.

"We didn't really want anyone else to know you see, especially our parents, as they don't exactly get on, and we didn't want to be stuck in the middle of frosty silences on both sides. So we kept it quiet, and for a while it worked. We got on really well and had fun, but eventually his little brother found us out, and told his parents. We didn't know and kept on meeting up, and on one such occasion his parents and mine suddenly appeared. Well, we were in something of a compromising position and uh, they weren't exactly pleased. It wasn't long after that I decided to leave. My parents were really angry, but they did lecture me over finding someone more 'suitable'. I got fed up with it all and came out here."

Having finished a very shortened version of her tale Astilwen sat back again. Tilionwen's eyes spoke of her sympathy, but the upturned corners of her mouth let slip her amusement. Astilwen couldn't help but smile back. In retrospect the story was amusing, and had been told at quite a few family gatherings since, so she had learnt to laugh at it herself.

Night was so far on now that it was becoming light again. Tilionwen had told her that she would be leaving come morning, and Astilwen did not want to lose her new friend so soon. She knew though that the girl needed to go home, to find her father and sort out some issues, the least of which being learning her own name! Still, they had a couple more hours yet.

"So," she said turning to Tiliowen, "What would you like to do before you leave?"

[Witch_Queen]

As shocked as she was Cree couldn't help but wonder what drove him to leave her the way he did. His death would not mean salvation for her. If ever she was alone she truly was now. He was her everything and now she had nothing. Avalon looked at Cree. The white crow could sense her friends hurting. She wished she could tell Cree everything would be alright, but she knew it wouldn't.

Cree felt something rolling down her cheek. She knew what it was. "Never did I shed a tear for my father, nor did I shed a tear for my fallen friends. But for Fáinu I shed only one tear. No matter how much I am hurting, I can't dwell for loosing him. I will mourn when the time calls but for now Avalon, I must go from these lands. Perhaps I will go back home. Back to the land I left so many years ago. But what will you do my friend. What will happen to the marvelous Avalon the last of her kind, the last of the white crows?"

Cree picked her bags up heading for the door of the Inn. This would be her last time in the shire. Perhaps she would head to Rohan instead? Right now she knew what she had to do. She would walk to the far away shores and make her monument for Fáinu. She would bury his pipe in the sands, where it would stay until the seas washed it away. Fáinu had given her everything she could have ever wanted. She received loyalty, friendship, kindness, and a caring touch, but the one thing she needed most of all she never received, Love. Cree left the Green Dragon Inn going for the shores and then she knew not where she would truly end up.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami had slipped through the backdoor of the Inn when she was sure no one else was paying attention. The common room, usually so noisey and crowded, was nearly empty and eerily silent. She suspected that most of the Inn's former guests had migrated over to the Marrish or to other places in the Shire and Rohan.

Cami felt guilty about coming to the Dragon. She was not supposed to be gallivanting about the Shire. It had ceased to be her home several years before. The Innkeeper had a long list of rules tacked up on the wall and, as a hobbit who had mysteriously disappeared from the Fourth Age, she posed too many thorny issues of canon. Still, too much of her life had been played out here. So many faces had come and gone. She had to stop and pay her respects before the Green Dragon shuttered its doors forever.

Many of the staff had already departed; others were in the process of sweeping the floors, stripping the beds, and clearing out the pantries. How strange that when people moved out of a house or a building they made sure everything was left clean, even when they had not been particularly meticulous while they had actually lived there.

Cami glanced about the large room where the guests had eaten their meals and quaffed their drinks. Packing boxes were stacked up in the middle, each filled to overflowing with a medley of personal possessions. Who did all these memories belong to? Each box was labelled with a name. Cami supposed there would be a box with her own name on it. She wondered what was inside. Letting out a soft sigh, the middle-aged hobbit vigorously shook her head. There was no use going down that road. She was no elf to live in the past. The future, however uncertain, was good enough for her.

Yet she could not leave without saying something. Her small fingers curled tightly about the back of one of the hobbit-sized chairs as she whispered her quiet goodbyes. Her mind raced back to the earlier Innkeeper who had been an Elf and her close friend. Do you remember, Piosenniel? Aman, Regin, Bird, and Mithadan--we had some good times here. This is where I married my husband and I had such troubles with my boys. Do you remember when Hawthorne burned down the Inn, and we had to rebuild? How many newcomers strolled through those doors, some for a single night and others stopping for a long visit? How many celebrations did we have, with the place decked out with flowers and tables loaded with Cook's goodies? You did a good job keeping things in order, though with help from many others, of course. All the names and images melted together as Cami walked to the door and pushed it open for one last time. She was ready to set out on the road.

[piosenniel]

Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on,
Under cloud and under star.
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen,
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green,
And trees and hills they long have known.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone.
Let others follow, if they can!
Let them a journety new begin.
But I at last with weary feet
Will turn towards the lighted inn,
My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

Still 'round the corner there may wait
A new road or secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

--- JRR Tolkien