The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[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


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TIME OF DAY

It is now a fair night in the Shire; the stars are out.

There is a large party in the Inn's front yard - tables are loaded with food, desserts, drinks. Several barrels of ale have been tapped, compliments of one of the Hobbit brewmasters.

There are tables and benches scattered over the front lawn. Twinkling little lanterns hang from the trees. To one side of the verandah there is a little stage set up for the musicians and a large area cleared for dancing.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama sat, looking at Crystal with the same mournful expresion on his face. "I'm sorry, Crystal...I know what it is like to lose the ones you love. When I came back from the war I found my home burnt, and everyone I loved dead. My son was just a boy, barely fourteen, and my daughter was growing into a beautiful woman. And they were both taken away...taken from me forever by raiders..."

He paused, the barest vestige of a tear forming in his eye. "I wish I could have done more for you, Crystal. I wish I had known..." he smiled weakly, a kind, fatherly sort of smile, taking a deep breath in through his nose. "I should have been there to help you..."

[Witch_Queen]

"We both should have been there for her." Adu turned to look at Crystal. "I heard. "Tis sad that you should be going through this alone. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised of the rumors. Even after all this time there is still people that are loyal to Dorian." Adu could sense something between Crystal and Hama but she knew whatever the feeling was she was not concerned. Adu was happy to be back in the shire with all her friends.

Adu was known for very well for being unseen when the time called. She knew she should have made her presence known but the talk was serious and it was best she remained hidden. "Now Hama are you glad that you did come along with me. Or else you might have missed seeing Crystal."

[Crystal Heart]

She patted Adu's wrist softly and shook her head. She didn't want her friends feeling responsible for what had happened. She shouldn't have married him. That she knew now.

"Do not blame yourselves for not being there. It was better that you weren't. You didn't have to see. . . . Arthur wasn't the same as you once knew him. As I once knew him. He had grown cold. Very cold. Tis better that he died. I loved our child, but he. . . . he would have grown to be his father. In that respect his short life was a blessing to himself," she replied softly, shaking away all the horrid memories.

Her eyes looked over at Hama's strong ones. It was clear that what he had seen had scarred him. She understood that scarring. "Oh Hama. I am so sorry for all that has happened. Your daughter and son were kind people. Very kind. Did your . . . .wife survive?" She asked, fearing the answer to that question.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama shook his head mournfully, "No...she did not. Freya was killed with my children. I am the last of my family, and in that I have failed my father...all this...this ceremony and decoration...it counts for nothing if you are empty on the inside. Haleth did me proud though...when I found him, he had a bloody sword in his hand, and two raiders dead around him. He would have made a fine soldier...at it is some corfort to know that I did not raise a coward. He will be dining with the warriors of Rohan in the halls of paradise, and he would not be unworthy..."

"So often it is the common man who has the happier life. Riches, rank...even joy have no meaning unless you have someone to share it with. I hunted them down...I hunted down the raiders who killed my family and I killed them just as mercilessly...and yet I still felt empty. There was every chance that I had robbed fifteen wives and perhaps more children of their husbands and fathers...and still I felt no guilt...no sorrow, no emotion. I am a General of Rohan...and a General cannot allow himself to feel guilt for anything, for the second he does so he loses all power over his men and himself...and yet I wanted to pity the men that I had slain. But there was no revenge in killing them, revenge would have been to find another love...to sire children again. But for what? To have them killed in another raid some years hence?"

Hama choked on a lump in his throat, and took another deep gulp of ale to dislodge it somewhat, resting his head in one of his hands...

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Ah, don't mind me," said Fáinu, lifting his head. He seemed to smile; yet Cree felt a foreboding, almost like a heavy weight that kept her in her seat. Fáinu's face was cheerful, almost, yet she saw behind his smile, deep fear and regret.

"I must go now," he said, "Dwaline's house is near by. I will go there. Then I need to rest." he sighed, "yes... to rest." he got up and drained his mug. Cree grabbed his arm, but said nothing. "Worry not," said Fáinu, "Things will look better in the morning." Avalon the crow cocked her head and squawked as the Elf walked out of the inn, singing a little song in old quenya.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal just sat and listened, her heart breaking for him. She knew that pain too well. She lowered her face to look him in the eye, leaning in so he could hear her.

"I am sorry for all you have endured for your post as general of Rohan. I am sorry for the loss of your wife and children. I am sorry that the one battle your son had to fight was his last. I am sorry for it all. I understand that revenge. I understand what you are feeling. That total unremorse. I have felt it too. You know I have. As long as I have known you Hama you have given everything to Rohan, your home. But you don't have to any more. You can let it all go and live the remainder of your life in the Shire. Someone else can lead. You had done well for Rohan and its people. Now it is time for you to do well by yourself," she told him, her eyes studying his.

"You don't have to marry once more. You don't have to fall in love ever again. You don't have to sire children and be a leader and make a change in this world. You can just be Hama, the man that lives in the Shire. The man that learns to enjoy life. That is what you need, Hama. A life. A true life. One that doesn't take you away from the place that you love and the people you adore."

She stopped, wanting to say more. She wanted to plead to him to stay, to be here with her. She couldn't lose him again. She could see that she was.

"I am merely a woman. I have run away. I have been owned by men and by illness. I have learned true beauty in life. I have learned true despair. My life has been broken time and time again. The only place it hasn't been broken is here, the Shire. This tavern. . . . I don't know anything about constructing a house. I know nothing of protecting my land and being a farmer. I know little about cooking and making a house a home. Yet, I want to learn. Would you learn with me? Stay with me here in the Shire? You could learn to live life . . . learn how to appreciate small things. You wouldn't have to be a warrior, a general, a leader. You could just be Hama. . . the man that learned how to live," she stopped and swallowed hard.

She looked at his glass and swallowed hard. She knew that despair. She was feeling the same way. How could she go on? How could she marry and sire more children?

"I know where you are at and I know where you could go. Losing your family so brutually will only drive you to insanity if you keep being the General of Rohan. Listen to my words and hear them in your heart. There is good in you. There is life in you. Find it. For my sake. Please. . . I can't lose you too," she whispered, tears starting to flow down her cheeks.

[piosenniel]

Just a reminder for everyone from the moderator, since this is a new page:

Per The Red Book of Westmarch topic in the Shire:

SERIAL POSTING

The Shire would like to encourage writers to take time to do more thoughtful and descriptive posts.

Serial posting between writers is discouraged, especially since it tends to become more dialog oriented than descriptive.

Two and a maximum of three well done posts is enough for one day for a writer to a game or the Inn.

Please try to keep to this request.

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More than 3 posts per day each between pairs of posters will be returned to the writers.

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[Witch_Queen]

PROPOSTERIOUS... INSANE....What is the child thinking.. Adu wanted to scream out no but something just wouldn't allow her to do that. "Hama go ahead stay here, forget about all the good you have done in Rohan. I can go back and let your king, our king know what you wish. Your service to Rohan will not be forgotten. Perhaps someday when everything is settled, I will return to the Shire to see how you and Crystal have done." Adu had always remained loyal to the life she had learned. She was a soldier, a warrior and when the time came perhaps she would be able to retire and make a life for herself.

"Revenge isn't worth risking your own life, even if you lost everything. I know Crystal that you will take care of yourself, you always were able to. Remember, a woman is not a slave to her husband. No marriage should be one sided. You are a woman of Rohan, be strong and stand down to no one. I have seen you grow from a little child into a woman, if your mother were still alive she would be proud of you. I know I am."

Adu turned to Hama. "Hama my general, my leader, my friend, your heart maybe broken but remember true love is never forgotten. Freya would have wanted you to move on with your life. A soul can only take so much mourning before it eventually becomes cold and bitter. Your life is short, take advantage of the moments you have. Love the life you have but more than anything, don't let the great things in life pass you by. You never know when fate may present you with your destined love. Nothing is forever.... well unless your an elf...." Adu couldnt' help but smile. "Come on the two of you cheer up, today is a joyous day."

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal smiled at Adu. The elven woman was right. She was a woman of Rohan. It was about time she started acting like it. She straightened and laughed brightly.

"Oh Adu. How I have forgotten my roots. I allowed so much of my past to haunt my future. No more. I vow to you that I will never again be what I was. I shall always remember that I am a woman of Rohan. And thank you, my dear friend. I only wish I could have spent more time with you in my childhood. Also, thank you for your kind words. I only pray that my dear mother would have been proud of what I have become," she said brightly.

She clapped both of them on the shoulder and smiled brightly. Yes, Adu was right. It was a joyous time. They were together! In the Shire! What more could they have asked for. "Adu is right. Let us celebrate this time!"

[Dimturiel]

Ravennar had listened to Heather with great attention. He could not help asking himself whether she really was journeying alone only because she was the only one that had a reason to be on that journey, or whether her solittude was not due- as was his- to some kind of pride. Maybe she did not even realise that it was so. But what was he to do? The best thing for both of them was for him to mind his own business and stop digging into other people's pasts. He had his own to worry about.

Ravennar looked arround him, inspecting all the happy and carefree faces that he saw, and listening to their meaningless and yet pleasant talk as if it was something new and fascinating to him. He smiled as he caught Heather's eye.

"Great place, this inn," he said, voicing his thoughts aloud. "One could hardly expect rash words to be spoken here. One could hardly think that one's life could change in a place like this. Such are the inns of my country, also-or so I thought them to be. Strange, is it not, how strife can find a home even in the most peaceful places?"

He stopped abruptly, realising that he had said more than he should have. This sounded too much like the beginning of some confession, and confessions were dangerous. He avoided Heather's eye, and thought uncomfortably of what her reaction to his words might be.

[Formendacil]

Awakened by the bumping of his table, Estahir yawned, stretched somewhat, and looked around. It was still night. Noise still flowed in from the party outside the inn, and the inn was full of the cheerful babble that characterized inns everywhere.

Estahir rubbed his eyes, trying to shake the sleep out of his mind. If his dreams were merely going to rehash the past, there was little point to dreaming. He called the Hobbit barmaid over, and requested another drink.

Inevitably, though, once he had the drink in his hand, and with no one to occupy his attention, he began to doze again. He was conscious of it, even as it was happening, and it irked him. A Ranger of the North ought to be able to stay awake at need. But there was no need, for the heart of the Shire was as safe as any place, and his body cried for the rest it lacked.

Estahir began to doze...

The events following the coronation of Elessar had been exciting times for the Dúnedain of the north. After a millennium of quiet warding and hidden dwellings, they were suddenly again the centre of the Kingdom of Arnor, and with the King dwelling in Gondor, it fell on many of his kin to make ready the North for the re-establishment of the realm.

Estahir had been one of those who had been charged with re-establishing an Arnorian presence in Fornost. The old capital of Arthedain was not to be Elessar's seat, for he would sit in Annúminas, but the old Arnorian city was to rebuilt, regarrisoned, and resettled. It would be many years indeed before it was fully populated, with the sons of post-War Gondor seeking opportunity in the North, but in the meantime, it fell upon Estahir and a small company of Rangers to refurbish and occupy the Royal house in Fornost.

Among the many tasks that befell them in the process of restoring the home that had been defiled by the Witchking's presence was the cleaning and repair of the old monuments that had adorned the halls and courtyards of the Kings of Arthedain. Most were beyond repair, smashed during the last Angmarian war, or weathered by the years of a millennium gone by. Most had to be removed, and tossed out.

It was in the process of removing a rather large stone block that had once been the base of a long-gone statue, that Estahir discovered a familiar name. On the base of of the statue had been inscribed the words, in Quenya, that had read "Donated by Angelimir of Nenuial, in memory of his father Angbor".

"Angelimir of Nenuial?"

The name had seemed awfully familar to Estahir, and it echoed in his mind as he and his companions hauled the heavy block out of the courtyard and the city.

It continued to echo as the day went on, and was still bouncing around in his mind as he lay down to sleep- when it hit him.

The rag of the dying man from the Battle of the Morannon. In eager excitement, he began to hunt for the long-forgotten rag, finally finding it with an old cloak and tunic that he had worn on the ride to Gondor.

"The Horde of Angelimir of Nenuial" the rag had read. Who was Angelimir of Nenuial, and why had he had a horde?

Estahir's dream turned from recounting the events of yore, and turned to fancy. Hand on his mug, face on the table, his mind fly with the birds of the air while his body remained firmly in the Green Dragon Inn.

[JennyHallu]

Lossë's quiet sobs finally calmed down, and she began to look around her once again. There were few people here in the common room of the Inn, especially with the sounds of merriment still drifting in from outdoors. Firmly, Lossë cast thoughts of the party (or just of Farael?) out of her mind, her fingers tingling with a familiar itch.

A tall man sat comfortably sprawled at a nearby booth. On silent feet, Lossë rose and carefully glided towards him. The sound of a soft, relaxed snore brought a smirk to the girl's pretty face. This was a strong and powerful man, to be sure. He reminded her of nothing so much as the glimpses she'd caught of Elessar and Prince Imrahil over the years in Minas Tirith...but he was asleep, and therefore completely vulnerable to her. She slid silently into the seat beside him, unaware that her youth and bloodlines made her look almost a daughter to the sleeping man, and gently looked inside his cloak. Ah. There.

She slipped a thin supple hand carefully around the man's waist, careful not to touch his body. His purse was tied to his belt just around the curve of his back with loose knots, easily undone. As she eased back, however, the man murmured and shifted in his sleep--onto Lossë's arm. She froze, staring up at his face, willing him to stay asleep.

This was not turning out to be a lucky day.

[Formendacil]

Estahir's eyes snapped open.

Lossë was looking straight at him, arm trapped behind his back.

He straightened immediately, allowing her hand to slip out, but catching her arm instantly, and forcing her to sit at the table beside him.

"It's not wise to try and pick a Ranger's purse, young lady," said Estahir in a growl. "Though I'll indulge your pride and say that you would have gotten away with it, if the Valar hadn't given me the urge to move at that moment. I'll confess to being curious though. What's a daughter of Men- and one with blood of Númenor at that- doing picking pockets in the heart of the Shire?"

Estahir's strong grip prevented Lossë from moving anywhere. He peered at her intently, as if willing her to reveal her secrets.

"So stay and sit for a moment, and I'll let go, you young kitten! I'm old and lonely and you have the look of a girl who's somewhat lonely herself. And I'd like to indulge my curiosity, although..." Estahir's voice trailed off here. "... although that's gotten me into trouble in the past."

Trouble indeed! After finding the name of Angelimir of Nenuial on the broken statue's base, Estahir had been unable to put the matter of the rag out of his mind. Who was Angelimir of Nenuial? Why had he had a hoard? Where did the map on the rag lead? Why had it been hidden?

For three months, these questions had plagued him. He had scoured the old ruins of Fornost, hoping to find more clues to Angelimir's identity, but there was not a trace of him that Estahir found in the old city. After three months, however, Estahir was relieved as commander of the Fornost detachment, and given leave to return to the Angle to visit his family.

Instead, he had gone to Rivendell.

Estahir's wife Míriel had passed away ten years before, and their children, though young, were grown. Of greater priority to the ranger's mind was the name "Angelimir of Nenuial". And so he had gone to Rivendell, to seek the answers in the library there to his questions. For there had been deposited such records and books of learning as had survived the Fall of the North, and there also, by reason of its close connections to the Realm of Arnor, had been written and stored many other books of lore. And there, under the rule of the Lords Elladan and Elrohir, Estahir hoped to find some answers.

And he had found them, too...

Estahir shook his head, and looked at Lossë.

"I'm sorry, girl," he said, letting go of her hand somewhat more tenderly than he had first grabbed it. "You can go if you want. I'll not bother you. Enough evil has come of my curiosity." For a moment, Lossë did not move.

[Nurumaiel]

Posco and Blanco sat rather uneasily together in the quiet Common Room. Blanco was pacing restlessly back and forth, while Posco watched him miserably from their table. It was obvious that Blanco was waiting for something... watching for something, that is, for he kept pausing at the window and peering out.

And suddenly Blanco gave a start. He saw Posco look up at him sharply, and he put on a casual smile that was very unconvincing. "I don't know why we're hanging about here doing nothing," he said. "I do believe I'll go out and dance. There are plenty of lovely hobbit lassies out there, Posco." There was a slight hesitation before he spoke again. "Why don't you come along with me?"

Because Blanco didn't want him to. That was one reason, but Posco didn't consider it a good one. What exactly had Blanco seen out there? He stood up and made his way to the window, but Blanco make a quick leap for the door. "I'll be out there if you want to come," he said quickly, and scampered outdoors.

Posco, watching from the window, could see him working his way through the merry crowds towards a table in the shadows. He lost him to view then, but he had no doubt of why Blanco had so suddenly left. It was to dance with the lassies, for hadn't he just passed them all by? No doubt he'd seen Lily. The eager look in his face could not be mistaken, despite his attempts to hide it. Posco sat down heavily by the window. He didn't have the courage to go chasing after Blanco and stop him from speaking with Lily. So he simply felt miserable.

Blanco basked in the lights as he worked his way slowly towards the table where Lily sat, doing his best not to jostle anyone but pausing to excuse himself when he did. Once or twice he looked over his shoulder, and saw to his satisfaction that Posco was not following him. The poor fellow was so distracted thinking about Lily that he hadn't realised why Blanco had left. Ah well, all the better for him.

There was a slight break in the dancers, and he took advantage of it, twisting and turning until he stood in the shadows. Yet he felt that all the lights were still upon him, for he felt a warmth spread all over them. There was Lily, looking up at him with her sweet little face, just as lovely as she had been the first time he met her. Though, was he only imagining it, but was she rather pale? He wondered briefly whether it was on account of Posco, and some of the warmth left. But he resolutely shoved that thought aside and approached the table. He was here, not Posco. He'd been given the first chance.

Smiling, he took her hand and shook it heartily. "Lily, how wonderful to see you!" he said, sitting down at her gesture, and observing nervously as he did so that her smile to him was slightly strained. "You gave me quite a start, appearing in that window like some phantom of the past. And..." He paused a moment, wondering if it was wise to bring up her worries, when they could very well be about Posco. But if that was what she wanted, it would come sooner or later.

"And I rather got the impression you wanted to talk to me," he said.

[The Sixth Wizard]

<puff> <pant>

A visitor in light green dressing strode up the path. He leaned on a seemingly ordinary staff, yet you had to avert your eyes as you looked at for too long.
There was an Inn ahead, with a picture of a Green Dragon over the front door. A party was going on in the front lawn. The visitor was tired after his long absence and needed rest. Brushing away a group of hobbit children he made it to the door, where a beggar pulled his arm. The old man looked up at the visitor blindly.
The visitor bent down slowly and clasped his arm.
"Who's that then, eh?" mumbled the blind beggar.
"What is your name, brethren?"
"Ah, he he *cough*, my name might be Jon the Blind, it might."
"Be at peace, Jon," said the green stranger.
Jon stared up, or turned his head up, and it seemed that there was a light returning to the world and his eyes, though it was night.
"Who - Who are you?"
"The Sixth Wizard," stated the stranger simply. "Let us enter this building."

The inside of the building was warm, some people chatted around the place, and a barmaid, a hobbit, addressed them.
"How may I help you?" she said.
"A warm bed and some ale for this poor soul," answered The Wizard.
"Certainly sir," she said happily. "And your name?"
"I think I'll keep that information to myself, thank you."
Jon was baffled. Why had this stranger told him his name and not to the barmaid? Did he hold him in greater trust?
"Okay sir," continued the barmaid. "Welcome to the Green Dragon Inn! I'm Ruby, and I'll show you to your room."
The Wizard payed her with some of the money from his purse. Ruby walked them through a long hall to a room for the travellers...

The bed of the room was warm and soft. As Jon got in, he asked the Wizard, "Who are you? Where did you come from? And why have all the other wizards gone over the sea?"
"Patience my good man. I have forgotten my name, held for years under the torment of Sauron in Barad-dur. Here let me tell you..."

It all started the day I was sent from Aman. Curunir was sent first, the one called Saruman, and then Mithrandir and Pallando I believe, though maybe my memory has grown thin? I was sent with Radagast, anyway. Gandalf, Mithrandir, was really for the elves. Curunir was for Men. Pallando and Alatar were from the Sea, Radagast for the animals. But I was to be for the trees.

I was kept a secret from others, to be our secret weapon when the time came. Not even Galadriel knew of me. First I dwelt with the Ents, searching for their Entwives. But then I was taken.

Shot, grievously wounded, as I slept. Uruks drugged me and took me to their Mordor.

In the Dark Lord's Tower I found nothing. Nothing but pain. A day lasted a century, a night millenia. The other wizards did nothing, thinking I had gone to the East and never returned, like Alatar and Pallando, strayed from my path. But the Path was clear. All else grew dark, Sauron took great delight in destroying my memories of myself, and leaving those of others open. I had almost given up hope.

Then something happened. The Tower's foundations rumbled. Maybe, just maybe the Ring had been destroyed?

All was confusion. I was forgotten. Using the last of my power I managed to escape the ruin. But it was over. Sauron was finished.

"And I made my way back, stopping at the Ents of course. Their draughts have been what has restored me to health, though my power is all lost. I only now can bring relief to the sick, or restore, never fight. It is sad. Who will protect the trees? The Ents dwindle, Mithrandir travels oversea. I stay, but I can but hinder the trees Doom. It is the way of things in Arda Marred."

"But why do you trust me?" asked Jon.
"I see it in your eyes and heart. You must believe in these things."

Jon stared out of the window deep in thought.

[Firefoot]

Lily felt both relieved and disappointed that Posco did not accompany Blanco, and apprehensive and uncomfortable at how heartily Blanco greeted her, and she wondered just how he felt towards her. Did he still envy Posco of her love? But perhaps that would not matter so much anymore, with Posco out here to find some other bride. She would never see either of them again.

"And I rather got the impression you wanted to talk to me," Blanco was saying.

“Perhaps so,” said Lily, briefly wondering if Blanco was really the one she ought to be talking to about this. But since she had no reason not to trust him, she clarified, “Yes. You see, I am quite confused, and I think that you are one who could clarify for me. All I want is a simple explanation.” Blanco nodded for her to go on. “And… I think it would be best if you did not tell Posco.” Again Blanco nodded, and she could tell that his curiosity was rising. “When I realized that my uncle was not sending the letters I wrote to Posco, I made up my mind to go to Buckland to find him, and I intended to stay. But upon reaching Buckland, I found that he was not at home; indeed, I was told that he had come here to find his bride.” The pain in her voice was faint but obvious. “Blanco, you must tell me whether this is true. I do not know how or why Posco would forget about me, and I do not want to know his excuses or explanations, which is why I am talking to you. So please, Blanco, just tell me the truth. Please tell me there was a mistake.”

[Angel_Queen]

Ravon walked towards the inn. Even though the inn was down the road still a bit Ravon could hear the music from the party. It seems like everyone is having fun. Wonder what the occasion is? Wonder if Lewis will be there. He will be so happy when he hears the news. Ravon's mind was racing with thoughts. She had told Lewis to meet her at the Green Dragon but wasn't sure if he had made it there or not. The long walk did her some good. It gave her time for herself. Time for her to think about the world around her. Ravon and Lewis had returned to their home in the Shire only a few months ago. The had decided to go to Rohan and eventually to Eryn Lasgalen.

Ravon's mother and father wasn't to thrilled with the thought of Ravon getting married to a man of Rohan. But if only her parents knew what was going on now. Lewis' and Ravon's wedding was beautiful. She had Lewis and Lewis had her. Ravon didn't expect to see her parents at the wedding but was delighted when her father was the one to give-her-away. She had figured that Lewis' parents would have hated the fact of the two of them spending the rest of their lives together. But the world of men had changed. Her mother-in-law was wonderful. Everyday she spent with Lewis was wonderful.

Ravon approached the inn and the sound of the celebration became louder and louder. Ravon watched as people laughed and drank. Also as a few people danced around free from the troubles of the world. I hope Lewis remembered to meet me here. Ravon dodged drunk hobbits and what she thought was a couple of dwarves. Ravon opened the door to the inn. Inside she saw people sitting around tables talking. A hobbit walked up to her. "Ale for the lady?" Ravon looked down at the small creature. "No thank you but I will have a mug of your finest water. No ale for me tonight." The hobbit turned and ran off. Ravon wasn't sure if she was going to get that water or not. To her surprise a few seconds later the hobbit returned granting Ravon's request.

Ravon scanned the inn looking for her heart's desire. "Lewis where are you?" Ravon stood in the center of the inn with a mug full of water. She felt some one walk up behind her. Suddenly her vision was gone. "Guess who?" She knew the sound of the voice. She had woken up so many times to the sweet sound of that voice. Lewis took his hands off from over Ravon's eyes. Ravon turned around.

"Lewis... I was wondering where you was." She wrapped her arms around him hugging Lewis and gently kissing him on the cheek. "Come lets sit down." Ravon was so caught up in the bliss that she had forgotten about the mug of water she held in her hand. What was once full was now empty and its contents covering Lewis' back. "I am so sorry. I forgot. I guess I should have been more careful." Lewis looked at her. "Its okay Ravon. Its not like I've never had ale or whatever that was spilt on me." Ravon couldn't help but giggle.

"Come now let us find a table and have a seat. I have something to tell you that is very important." The couple found a table just as the hobbit Ravon met earlier walked by. "Can I help the two of you?" Lewis looked at the halfling. "Sure. Can I get a pint of your finest ale... Well make that two.." Ravon quickly cut Lewis off. "Make that just one. I'm afraid I spilt my water and it would be wonderful. Could you bring me another mug of water?" The hobbit looked at the elf and grinned. "Anything for you." The hobbit skipped away leaving Ravon and Lewis alone.

Ravon reached over and placed her hand on top of Lewis' hand. "Lewis, you know I haven't been feeling well here lately. I went to the doctor this morning." Lewis' expression went from joyful to concerned. Ravon knew he was no worried. She feared what Lewis might say next.

[Nogrod]

“Funny how different names make things themselves look different. Have you ever noticed that?”, Rían asked Grimhorn after a moment of silence between them. Grimhorn’s expression looked calm, but Rían wasn’t sure, what he was thinking about. And that unnerved him even more. Anyhow, he knew now, what he was going to say.

“Yes, I have heard the name you just used, Grëaw the Pretender... yes, I remember. But for me he has always been Grëaw of the Colours, or just Grëaw the wise. I think neither of us has had any real chance to think about that man in other terms than those we have learned from our childhood.” Rían took a long pull from his pint, wiping the foam from his mouth with his left thumb. He took this pipe from the table, but realized simultaneously, that he had just smoked. Rían turned the pipe around in his hands for a while, and then put it back to the table, grinning mildly and shrugging his shoulders.

“I said my memories are painful. Yes they are, but they are also faint. I was so young back then, when we had to run and hide for our lives. After those days, I have lived far away from the land of the Beornings. So what happened to the other followers of Grëaw of the Colours? Were they murdered or exiled? Were they 'cleansed' away?”, Rían spelled the last words quite poignantly, letting his emotions come through. “Cleansed according to the purity-ideals of Owl’s eye and his followers, persecuted by fellow Beornings, just because they thought differently on some things?" Rían tried to cool himself down with some more ale, taking a very long draught indeed. Oh man, you’re going to need quite many of these tonight...

[Witch_Queen]

Cree had a very concern look on her face. What was going on? Fáinu just got up and left. She knew he was going to speak with Dwaline. But still something didn’t seem right to her. She looked at Avalon, her one true companion in life. “Avalon do me a favor. Follow him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” The giant white crow bobbed its head up and then down before leaping into the air. Cree knew Avalon would watch over Fáinu.

The crow left the inn, flying through the air with such ease. Avalon flew closer to the ground making sure she didn't miss Fáinu. She spotted the elf walking down the dirt road. "Go back to the inn Avalon." Avalon didn't know how Fáinu knew she was there, but she better do as she was told. Avalon quickly turned around, she was concerned still but she could do nothing.

Cree sat at the table alone waiting the return of her friend. Cree was looking out the window when Avalon returned. Cree knew she couldn't comunicate with Avalon like she did with Fáinu, but she would do her best. "Avalon is Fáinu ok? Flap your right wing if he is and your left wing if he isn't..." The bird turned her head in confusion. "No that won't work.. Ok stomp one of your feet once if he is and twice if he's not." Avalon pick up her right leg and placed it back on the table. "Ok so Fáinu is alright. I'm still worried." Avalon hopped towards Cree, trying to get closer to the elf. Cree sensed Avalon's uneasiness. She stroked Avalons head, "Everything will be ok Avalon. Fáinu will come back in the morning."

[Thinlómien]

"Funny how different names make things themselves look different. Have you ever noticed that?" Rían had asked, almost casually. Grimhorn had nodded silently, trying to control his feelings and his expressions. He had felt the anger growing inside him. The tiny voice of a woman long dead reminding him of his temper was not to be heard anymore. How does that brat dare to say that to me tonight, after all things he has said, and to say that so casually. Funny. Funny indeed! I'm dying of laughter! Oh funny, how Grimgor Bearhand and Grimgor the Owl's Eye sound different and make the things look different! He had gripped his axe, this time less unconsciously.

Grimhorn had forced himself to calm down. He was no fool, he knew he needed to talk this through. He also knew he couldn't beat the younger man or scare him away. In either case the hidden truths might be lost from him forever. He had forced his fingers to let go of the axe and take the pint instead.

Unfortunately for both of them, Rían continued the line that was making it more difficult for Grimhorn to control himself. Pointing out that Grimhorn might have learned his opinions, not formed themselves by himself, was not maybe the best thing to say to soothe his anger. Especially when he himself knew it was true.

Grimhorn kept silent, but he wanted to roar and throw the table on someone, preferably Rían. Rían Sundry. Son of the hermit Sundry. Son of the man who had made Grimhorn's father so mad that he had wanted to kill him and his family. If that characteristic ran in the Sundry family, I wouldn't wonder, Grimhorn thought. I wouldn't even accuse my father for wanting to kill them. Then despite of himself and his anger, he grinned. Oh boy, that characteristic of getting mad at Sundrys must run in the family as well, he thought.

Grimhorn's good mood, however, didn't last long. Quit that whining about painful memories, little boy! You are not the only one in this world who has them. It would be a wonder to pass my age, or even yours, without getting them, Grimhorn thought as Rían told about his memories.

And then, at the top of it, Rían Sundry rementioned the ethnic cleansing. This was enough for Grimhorn for this night. He rose up suddenly hitting the table with his enormous fist. "Quit that babbling! Grimgor Bearhand never was a leader of any ethnic cleansing!"

"Greäw the Pretender's followers either returned to normal society and started doing proper work or killed themselves or wandered off and never returned! Of those freaks, you can never tell. They should have killed themselves, though, that would have served them right!"

Rían was speechless. Whether he was thinking of what to say or too scared to say anything, Grimhorn didn't know. To tell the truth, at the moment he didn't even care. He forced himself to relax and sat down again. He took a sip from his pint. His hands were still trembling. Teasingly, a familiar woman's voice echoed from his memories: "See? You made yourself stupid, my bear. Adult people can control their anger. Little boys are the ones who don't."

Grimhorn let his eyes meet Rían's. He didn't pretend to be polite, or not angry. Instead, he asked bluntly: "That's enough for me. Tonight, you've continuosly insulted my father, without giving grounds to your accusation. I would be glad to hear, why are you accusing him of leading an ethnic cleansing?" He took another sip. "As far as I know, such thing never took place in the Beorning Lands."

[Nurumaiel]

Blanco hesitated for some time before answering. He felt strongly that he must do what was right, but the strange emotions playing on him were telling him otherwise. It was useless to tell her a lie. Posco would sort it all out at the first chance he got, and Blanco would be made to look like a fool. Unless Lily left right away... and he could follow.

Could he not simply tell her that Posco was indeed looking for his bride? Obviously Lily thought that some other girl was meant by that phrase. The answer would not be a lie, for that was indeed why Posco was there. But she would take it differently, and then perhaps he could offer to escort her back home. And perhaps he could win her heart before then, and ask for her hand. And she, having no one else to turn to, would accept. And Posco would never know why. It was a bright picture.

But that was selfish. Did he honestly and truly love her? Honesty and truth forbade him from following that course. He would break Posco's heart, and would more than likely break Lily's heart, and all to satisfy his own selfish heart. Would he truly be happy living to the end of his days with Lily, knowing that she had married him only because he had thwarted her true dreams?

"Blanco..." said Lily, her eyes pleading. "Please... just the truth. You don't have to be afraid to tell the truth."

Blanco laughed in a strained fashion. "No, not for your sake," he said. "I'm not afraid for you. But I should be more afraid for myself if I told a lie. Lily, do you remember young Bingo, the hobbit who accompanied us the first time we were here? The good-natured one... always smiling, always helping?"

Lily nodded vaguely, looking at him in bewilderment.

"He told me once that emotions were fickle things, and not to be trusted. Your heart may tell you to do one thing, but the principles of your heart say another. He told me always to follow the principles, for they're sturdy, whilst the emotions are shaky and confused."

"What do you mean?" she asked, in a hesitating voice. "Is this about Posco?"

"Yes, it's about Posco," he said. He took a deep breath, and tried to look firm and resolved, though he only wished he were telling a lie. "Lily, Posco did come here to look for his bride. What you heard was entirely true."

She drew a rather sharp breath, and he saw the misery entering in her eyes. He quickly caught her hands.

"But, Lily, you misunderstood what was meant by that," he hurried on. "He did indeed come here to find his bride. And by that is meant that he came to find you."

[Firefoot]

“He – he what?” Of all the possible explanations, Lily had never even suspected this. “But he – I was in Bree – why – what was he thinking?” she spluttered. A myriad of emotions displayed themselves across her face: relief, confusion, anger, joy.

He smiled at her, a strange smile. “He was too shy to go to you in Bree, and so came here instead with the wild hope of finding you.”

“But… that’s wonderful! Blanco, this is the best news I have heard all day!” She had leapt to her feet and now walked around the table to kiss him lightly on the cheek. Now she really did feel like dancing! Posco had come to find her, and here she had been hiding from him! But why he ever thought to come here to find her…!

“Thank you, Blanco,” she said, truly meaning it. “But I must go find Posco now.” And with that she fairly danced off, still reeling with shock. But as that started to recede into the violent tempest of her emotions, and others started to come through more prominently: bewilderment (why ever he had come here!), anger (how dare he cause me all this heartache!), annoyance (could he not have even written?), amusement (silly hobbit, trying to find me where I almost certainly would not be). Had she been thinking clearly, she in her current state probably would not have tried to approach Posco, because she would have remembered just how he would react if he thought she was angry with him; but none of this occurred to her in her overwhelming need to see him. It had been so long!

She flung open the door to the inn, and there he was. Her heart began to thud as she had forgotten it could. Smiling faintly, she walked up to him and declared, “Posco, I do believe you are the most absurd hobbit I have ever had the chance to meet, for in one day without ever seeing me you have made me both the most miserable and the most joyous hobbit in Middle-earth.” She laughed lightly. “I do not pretend to understand why you came here and not to Bree, but I am ever so glad I did not simply go home!” Then she faltered suddenly. Of course he would understand none of this, and how might he take it? And… what if Blanco had been wrong? Her waltzing in here like this! But she could think of nothing more to say that would explain rightly, and said nothing.

[Glirdan]

Gróin suddenly woke up. He looked out the window and saw that it was still black. He rolled over and tried to get back to sleep. He was just about to fall back off to sleep when he heard something creaking.. He sat up straight in his bed, the blankets strewn all over the place. "Who-who's there?" he whispered hesitantly. No one answered. Must have been the wind against the window he thought to himself. He rolled back over and tried going back to sleep when he heard it again, outside his door. He got up, trembling as he made his way to the door.

He grabbed the doorknob and it turned it slowly and cautiously, making sure it didn't make a sound. He stuck his head out and peered into the dark hallway except for the little light coming from the Inn's bar. He looked first towards the light and then the opposite way. Nothing was there. Well, he thought, now that I'm up, I might as well go get a drink. He made his way groggily to the light when he heard it again. He stopped and turned around, peering into the darkness. "Show yourself!" he cried. "I know you're there!" No one answered but this time, he thought he could see a shape running quietly down the dark hallway...toward him. He ran towards the light and stumbled into the room where he saw Lily. "Lily! Lily!! Help! I think someone is after me!"

[Dairym]

"Great place, this inn," Ravennar commented. "One could hardly expect rash words to be spoken here. One could hardly think that one's life could change in a place like this. Such are the inns of my country, also-or so I thought them to be. Strange, is it not, how strife can find a home even in the most peaceful places?"

“Aye, strange,” Heather sighed. “Trouble always finds a way to burrow in, doesn’t it?” She brushed a few crumbs from her skirt as an awkward silence fell between them. It was a sensation all too familiar to Heather.

The girl watched a tall elf stride out into the starlit darkness and sighed again, but this time it was a wistful sound. “Did you see fair folk when you lived in Dale? They always seem so tall and melancholy to me, on their way to the West and all. Someday they’ll all sail away from us. There has to be an end, I guess, even to them.” She shook herself and laughed. “Listen to me! But please, tell me about your elves of Mirkwood.”

[Dimturiel]

Ravennar was amased by Heather's melancholic words. He had not expected that from her. He had always thought those from Bree as being too level-headed to mind such things too much."Next time," he told himself, "Do not judge people only by what travellers say of them." He took a deep breath and said to Heather:

"Many things are to be told of them and it would take more than a short life of Men to finish. But they are changing. We live so near to them, and you may think that we should now be accostumed to them, and in a way we are. Yet for the past few years, to me they seem to be growing distant, as if they no longer belong to this world. And maybe they do not. I doubt that the sons of my children will see them. I think they would only consider them a figment of our imagination."

[Nurumaiel]

Posco was astounded beyond belief to see Lily standing in front of him, laughing and talking as though she were very pleased to see him. For a moment he couldn't speak. He had been so certain that Blanco had gone out to see Lily... and so why was she standing before him now, instead of sitting out there with Blanco, or perhaps dancing with him?

And then he realised, with a wave of guilty, that he had never given Lily any credit whatsoever. He had always looked on her as a lovely lassie whom he loved dearly and wanted to marry... and one he could never have because he was so shy and awkward. He had always looked at himself, and never at her. He had never considered the fact that she meant it when she said she loved him, and that she wouldn't reject him just because he thought she would. He had never considered all the worry she might be suffering because he had never gone to see her... he had always supposed that he wasn't worth worry, never that she didn't think so.

"Lily," he began, and he was bothered with how weak his voice sounded. "Lily," he said once again, and this time his voice was stronger. "I can't begin to say how sorry I am that I came here instead of Bree. I was shy of calling on you at your uncle's house, and I was afraid that you might have decided that... that you liked Tommy Banks more than me. I had no confidence in you at all, and I should have."

He paused for a moment, and Lily didn't say anything... bless her heart! She knew that he wanted to say what he must, without interruption. Bless her dear little heart!

"I'm a shy, awkward sort of hobbit who is afraid of everyone. I know you... you love me anyway, but I've been a miserable failure so far. You're so good and kind, Lily, you deserve much better." He saw how her expression darkened slightly, and he hurried on. "I don't mean that you ought to go marry Tommy Banks!" he cried. "I don't want you to do that! That is to say, as long as you don't want to. I'm not saying you deserve a better hobbit... but that deserve a better... well, a better Posco. One who doesn't let shyness be selfishness, and tries to see what's best for you."

And now what? Was there anything more to be said. No, he had apologised as well as he could. It sounded horribly awkward, but at least he was sincere. The only thing left to do was to put forth the plans for visiting her often over the next few months, until he felt he more thoughtful towards her... and ready to marry her and support her.

"Now, then," he began, taking a deep breath. "I have a proposal to make..."

Her eyes lit up, and he realised that he oughtn't to have used the word 'proposal.' He always was making mistakes. But it was at the moment he opened his mouth to explain that he didn't mean 'propose' just yet that Gróin came stumbling into the room, shouting Lily's name.

[Firefoot]

Lily could hardly bear to listen to Posco going on about how he ought to have had faith in her, not when she had ridden the whole way here from Buckland convinced that he had come here to marry another lass. She let him continue, though; he would want to have it all out. There would be time for her own explanations later, if it came to that.

"Now, then," said Posco. "I have a proposal to make..." Lily’s breath caught in her throat; did he really mean…?

“Lily! Lily! Help! I think someone is after me!” Her head jerked unwillingly towards the sound, and she saw Gróin rushing towards her. Her spirit sank; No, go back to bed! she wanted to cry out. Let time backtrack five or ten seconds! No, Gróin, not now! She had not talked with Posco in months!

“What do you mean, someone is after you?” she asked, a trifle more harshly than she intended. He had interrupted them for this?

“Someone is after me!” he repeated breathlessly. “I heard footsteps in the hallway, so I went to have a look, and someone was running towards me!”

Lily glanced in the direction from which Gróin had come; she saw nothing but a dark and apparently empty hallway. “I don’t see anything… Are you sure it wasn’t just someone else going to their room? And why would someone be after you?” She refrained from saying what she really had in mind about him imagining things and simply going back to bed… like a child seeing ghosts. And truly, unless he had left something important out of his tale, why would anyone be chasing him? Nonsense, all of it. Now, that wasn't quite fair, Lily realized; she had been quite happy for a friend earlier in the evening. But Lily didn't feel like being fair, at least not in her mind. A pity that what she wanted and what she ought to do were so different!

[Forest Elf]

Walking along the road, feeling down hearted after another long day of traveling and had seen no one else in the day, the young elf; Taima, heard the music off in the distance. She lifted her head and smiled, her worn and patched cape blowing gently around her in the breeze, her unrully brown curls catching the breeze, she cluched at her precious bag, her twinkling gray/blue eyes looked up the road and see's the crowd around the inn, taking notice of the latern's hung in the tree tops.

Taima walked up the road and read the sign, ~The Green Dragon Inn~. Surely this would be a good place to rest for the night, and maybe, just maybe, she could meet some new friends. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and walked upto the desk, her bluish gray eyes sparkling with hope she asks, "Excuse me miss, is there any room in the inn? I've come a long way and it would be nice to have a cozy place to stay for the night. I am Taima Moore. I come from Linhir."

[Glirdan]

Gróin looked up at Lily. She had an air of impatience about her. He looked over at the Hobbit she was with when he suddenly realised it. This must be the Hobbit she's in love with! Oh my! What bad timing! "I'm sorry my friend!! I don't know what got into me. I was sure someone was after me. I heard creaking outside my door. And before I came in, I heard a voic that sounded like Sarin's. I was sure that someone was following me."

He looked back and forth between the two, hopping they would believe him. "I swear to you I'm not insane! I need you to believe me! I think..." Should I tell them what I think? Should I say what's really going on in my head? Gróin took and deep breath to calm himself down before he went on. "I think that there may be two possiblities. Neither of them are probable, yet neither of them are that far-fetched either. I think that either Sarin is alive and is here but not letting me know, or someone is trying to make me look bad. Why, I don't quite know. But as I told you earlier Lily, Sarin disappeared and was never seen again. That's why neither of them are probable." He looked at them again. "Please. You have to believe me. I beg of you."

[SonOfBombadil]

"Lewis, you know I haven't been feeling well here lately. I went to the doctor this morning." Lewis looked intently into Ravon's eyes, concern taking hold of his face.

Ravon had never been sick all the time that Lewis had known her and it troubled his mind and heart knowing that his Elven bride was ill. Lewis had initially thought that she was just exhausted from all the travelling they had been doing before and after their wedding. But they had been home for several weeks now, so that wasn't her ailment.

Lewis took both of Ravon's soft, delicate hands, in his rough blacksmith's hands, and gave them a gentle squeeze. "What did the doctor tell you?" he asked, trying not to sound too worried. But he was, he couldn't wait another second for her answer.

[Forest Elf]

"Excuse me miss, is there any room in the inn? I've come a long way and it would be nice to have a cozy place to stay for the night. I am Taima Moore. I come from Linhir."

"We have several rooms open...Welcome to The Green Dragon Inn, enjoy your stay." said the Innkeeper with a smile.

"Thank you." Taima said, her heart lightened some.

Taima walks up to a counter. She takes a few deep breaths to help calm her nervous and excited butterflies going crazy in her stomach. She smells some chicken roasting over the fire and asks the cook, "Could I have some roasted chicken and a drink, if it's not too much trouble?"

[Firefoot]

Lily’s glance darted to Posco, who had yet to say a word (not that this surprised her, especially with Gróin acting so excitable), and back to Gróin. She still found his claim strange and highly inconvenient, but it had been wrong of her to so instantly doubt him.

“Your pardon, Gróin,” she said. “It was wrong of me to doubt your story without waiting for an explanation. But I still do not see what it is I can do to help. I can try, but you seem to have a much better understanding of the situation than I do. Would it not be best to go and find this person – unless you think he – or she - might be out to hurt you?” she added doubtfully. "Surely he would still be nearby." Lily hesitated. She did not particularly want to be drawn into this, but... "Just tell me what you want help with."

[Angel_Queen]

Despite how much Lewis tried to hide it, Ravon knew Lewis was worried. "Lewis, my love no reason to fret. What the doctor told me was wonderful news. To you it may not be all that wonderful but to me it is." Suddenly the expression on Lewis' face changed. Ravon had been tired from all the travel and now she was home, she had a chance to relax.

"Lewis you remember how we've been talking about adding onto the house. I think its time we go ahead and plan on the addition. We're going to need the extra room." Ravon paused, she knew the suspense was about to kill Lewis and she loved it.

Lewis looked at her, he couldn't keep from talking any longer. "It can't be? Does this mean that?"

Ravon looked at Lewis trying to keep from laughing. "Yes Lewis this means your going to be a father." Ravon had interrupted Lewis before he got a chance to say what he was really meaning.

"No... Does this mean that Jonathan... WHAT.... You, ME... I'M GOING TO BE A FATHER!!" Ravon couldn't refrain any longer. Her need to laugh was too much. Ravon nodded her head and couldn't speak another word.

[JennyHallu]

Lossë cursed mentally. There was no way to pretend she had been attempting anything less than pickpocketing the man; her slim hands still gripped the leather of his purse, as his fierce blue-grey eyes bored intently into her. She froze, more out of frustration and caution than fear, and her grey eyes blazed.

"It's not wise to try and pick a Ranger's purse, young lady," the man growled at her. "Though I'll indulge your pride and say that you would have gotten away with it, if the Valar hadn't given me the urge to move at that moment. I'll confess to being curious though. What's a daughter of Men- and one with blood of Númenor at that- doing picking pockets in the heart of the Shire?"

Lossë tried to struggle against his arm, but her captor was far stronger than the slim girl. Her eyes cast about for a possible rescuer as she listened with half an ear to the man's gruff voice. She didn't dare say a word.

"So stay and sit for a moment, and I'll let go, you young kitten! I'm old and lonely and you have the look of a girl who's somewhat lonely herself. And I'd like to indulge my curiosity, although..." Estahir's voice trailed off here. "... although that's gotten me into trouble in the past."

Lossë's natural curiousity perked up at that, and when the man bid her leave if she please and released her arm, she stayed, folding her hands in front of her with a lady-like demur. "I'm Lossë, sir. I'm from Minas Tirith, out here so as to keep out of trouble I can't handle." A flash of grey eyes into sudden stormy blue gave the man a quick glimpse of the lass's true personality: fiery and vivid. "And I'm not sorry for trying to take your coin. I'm having a bad day: probably couldn't lift a trinket off a corpse if this luck holds."

[Formendacil]

"I'm Lossë, sir. I'm from Minas Tirith, out here so as to keep out of trouble I can't handle." Estahir may have changed his mind over the years about the benefits of curiosity, but he was not yet above being curious. What Father, Mother, or Guardian sent their daughter to the Shire, of all places? It may have excelled at staying out of trouble, but their daughter would be like a horse among donkeys, and it was a terribly long way from Minas Tirith. Far easier to send a troublesome child to the country somewhere.

And then there were the rumours in Arnor that the King Elessar planned, someday, to forbid the travel of Men in the Shire. However, it seemed likely that such rumours were unheard in Minas Tirith. What concern was it to the Gondorians if the Shire were forbidden to Men? Before he could wonder any further, his attention snapped back to Lossë.

"And I'm not sorry for trying to take your coin. I'm having a bad day: probably couldn't lift a trinket off a corpse if this luck holds."

"And that would be such a bad thing?" Estahir raised his eyebrow. "I'll admit, girl, that I probably see things a bit differently than you. I'm no thief- although the Men of Bree would have told you differently about twenty years ago, before the War- and so can't really see it from your point of view. You're clearly well-born, what need have you got of money so badly that you steal?"

Estahir shook his head, thinking more of himself than the slip of a girl he was talking to. Would that he had heeded his own advice! What need had he had of the Horde of Angelimir?

But after it he had gone anyway...

Imladris had not disappointed Estahir at all. The Lord Elrond's library, left virtually intact for the benefit of the Northern Realm, had indeed yielded some information on Angelimir of Nenuial.

Angelimir, it had turned out, was a Councillor of the Realm during the reign of Arvedui. They were of an age, and it seemed that in his younger days, during the reign of Araphant, Angelimir had travelled far and wide. He had fought with Eärnil at the Battle of the Camp, routing the Easterlings, and had spoken as one of Arvedui's proponents to the Council of Gondor that had rejected Arvedui's claim as king. Angelimir had returned to Arthedain, and during the last years of Araphant's reign, had been Governor of Tharbad and Southern Cardolan. Despite very limited resources, strained by the war against Angmar, Angelimir had managed to do some exploration and cartography of the Enedwaith, the No-Man's Land between Arnor and Gondor.

During this time, it seemed, Angelimir had been entrusted with an extremely large sum of money, from the treasury in Fornost, which he was to build a new treasury for somewhere in southern Cardolan- where it would be further away from the battlefront and thus less vulnerable to enemy attacks. It was the fear of Araphant that Angmar would break through and take the north of Arnor, but he hoped to hold out in the south until reinforcements could be called from Gondor or the Elves.

The histories, Estahir had noted with irritation, had been very helpless on what had happened to the treasure thereafter. It seemed that about this time Araphant had passed away, and Arvedui had become king. The war had intensified, and no men could be spared to build or maintain a treasury near Tharbad. Angelimir had been recalled to Fornost to sit on the council.

Angelimir had been one of the lucky few to escape the sack of Fornost. He had been one of Arvedui's company on the retreat towards Fornobel, but had ended up being seperated with few companions, and retreating across the Lhûn. He had holed up in an old Dwarven mine until spring, when Prince Eärnur and his Gondorian army had arrived and destroyed Angmar for good.

After that, there were no records of Angelimir. Lord Elrond had kept only the barest of records concerning the Dúnedain of the North after the death of Arvedui. It seemed that he would likely have become one of the founding Rangers, with both his wide experience as a traveller and lord of the realm to draw on. He would likely have been one of the chief aides of the Heir of the North, Aranarth.

Estahir had no way to prove it, but he suspected that it was at this time that the money he had been entrusted with in Tharbad had been moved to it's final location, the map to which had finally ended up in his hands. It would have made sense for the treasury to have been hidden in trust for the Return of the King, just as the scepter, Elendilmir, and the shards of Narsil were entrusted to Elrond for safekeeping.

And so Estahir had begun to research more deeply Angelimir's earlier history, the lands he had travelled, and the places he had known, hoping to find a location that resembled the one portrayed on the rag of a map.

Thoughts of his quest in mind, Estahir shook his head and looked at Lossë.

"What's the harm of asking, if you truly need the money? It's less shameful than theft."- and wiser than treasure hunts, he thought.

[piosenniel]

Closing the doors on The Green Dragon Inn

The Green Dragon Inn opened in November of 2002, under the guidance of Dwarin Thunderhammer. Since then it has undergone eleven incarnations and boasts well over 7,000 posts. In April of 2003, The Green Dragon Inn Part 3, a new Innkeeper was introduced, Amanaduial the archer.

It has been an interesting and enjoyable four years, reading the posts of those who first cut their RPG-teeth, so to speak, in The Green Dragon. Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves, Men, Wargs, Orcs, and even a Balrog have passed through the Inn’s doors.

Now those doors are going to close on this last incarnation of The Green Dragon.

A new Innkeeper, Folwren, will offer the hospitality of a new inn – The Golden Perch in Stock, Eastfarthing, the Shire.

> - - - < ~*~ > - - - <

The Green Dragon will remain open until the end of this June. Please wrap up any storylines you have in progress (or perhaps think about working them into an independent RPG proposal along with your co-writers).

The Golden Perch Inn will be open on June 1st to take on players.

Its timeline will be much earlier than that of the present Green Dragon Inn. There will be a Discussion Thread to accompany the new inn. And each writer for the Golden Perch will need to submit a brief Character Description form to the Discussion Thread when they make their first post to the Inn thread

Please do give a look at the Discussion Thread for the new Inn. And think about designing a new character to come in and take part in the storyline when it opens.

[Celuien]

"...And at the close of day 'tis sweet
To drink sweet brew and rest our feet."

Robin's song came to an end. Scattered cheers and applause greeted his performance, and after a quick bow, the hobbit hopped off the stage. The song was one of his own invention, and he was abashed by the attention. In his usual mood, Robin would never have dared to sing in front of such a large crowd - much less with lyrics he composed. He was astonished at the combined effects of good cheer and Fordogrim's brew on his willingness to be the center of attention. Most pleasantly astonished. It seemed that his talents were appreciated, and he would never have known without the party.

But the hour grew late, and the best of parties could not change that Robin had work to do in the morning. There were weeds to pull, fields to tend, and he had planting to finish. With a sigh, he called his farewells to the lingering revelers and stepped out of the Inn yard. Whistling a little tune - the same he sang at the party - he strolled down the road and headed for home.

[JennyHallu]

Lossë sat back hard against the seat of the booth, an irritable expression on her dainty face. "Shameful?" What is it with all these prudes here? "It isn't shameful at all. It's skill and cunning makes me a good thief, and if foolishness and carelessness make a man a good mark, why should I pass up the opportunity to teach him his error!"

The man looked at her in surprise a moment, seeming to battle some inner amusement, which only further riled young Lossë. "And I'm no beggar, and shan't ask for anything I can get for myself," she said firmly, completely unaware of the oddities of her particular moral code.

[Dairym]

Heather frowned, thinking over Ravennar's words. She slipped her hand into her pocket and fingered her treasured stone. The crystal’s cool hardness, a solid testament to memories past, reassured her. It had stood the test of time and forgetfulness.

“But we have our songs and tales; surely they will not be forgotten. As long as mothers and fathers tell their children, and those children tell their children, it will be remembered again and again. As long as there is truth in the world it will be remembered.” She blushed a little at this long speech, adding, “It’s what my mother taught me, with all the stories of her people.”