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Old 01-05-2005, 04:29 PM   #1201
Envinyatar
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He had to admit he was feeling much better. Derufin raised his head from the pillow and wriggled his toes. They were a bit numb from the fact that Cook’s bed was far to short for his long frame and his legs had hung over when he stretched out. Raising his head though brought on an odd feeling – the rather dull sensation that the room was spinning. Not wildly, but just a bit. And from somewhere near came a particularly foul stench that offended his nostrils. A sharp laugh sent a small stab of pain through his head. The source of the stink was himself!

Levering himself up to a sitting position, he groaned slightly noting the brightness of the light through the cracks in the curtains. 'Stars above! What time is it?' he muttered, hoping he had not missed his own handfasting. ‘How am I to explain this to Zimzi?’ he muttered again.

The door to the room opened. ‘No, need to explain anything, almost brother mine,’ said Sakal, a bit too loudly and too cheerily. Derufin looked up to find the man and Zimzi’s other brother, Azar, advancing on him with a rather large towel. They stood to either side of him, ordering him to remove his socks, then, stooping down, they hauled him to his feet.

He protested as they shucked him of his clothes and wrapped the towel about him. And really, what else could he do . . . they spoke quickly to him, like grooms calming a skittish horse, and spun him about as shirt and breeches went flying. Done at last, they maneuvered him out to the locked and shuttered kitchen where he was quite unceremoniously tipped into the hot tub of water.

Cook, from behind the privacy screen that had been hastily placed around the tub, handed round a stiff brush and a rather large bar of soap, lilac scented. ‘No comments from you on how it smells,’ she said firmly to him, hearing him take a deep whiff of it and cough. ‘It smells better than you do.’ Which is like a brewery! she muttered, loud enough for him to hear her. She tapped her foot expectantly until she heard the sound of him scrubbing away and rinsing. ‘There’s a pile of towels on the chair by you for when you’re done. Mind you get that hair of yours washed . . . and behind the ears!’ Long years of raising two boys leave firm remembrances of what details need to be addressed.

‘Yes, m’am!’ Derufin chuckled, feeling better now that the hot water seemed to washing away his aches and pains as well as the dirt. ‘And I’m just now cleaning the dirt from my fingernails, too, if that were the next worry of yours!’

‘Cheeky!’ Cook laughed, liking how much more like himself he sounded. ‘Sakal has gone to fetch your clothes for the party. He should be back soon with them. And I’ve sent Merry to polish your boots.’

‘You know,’ said Derufin, spluttering as he poured a pan of water over his soapy head, ‘I wouldn’t be in this pickle if Sakal hadn’t insisted on a last night of freedom party.’

There was silence on the other side of the curtain, then Cook answered in a most no-nonsense voice. ‘And I suppose it was Sakal who bent your arm at the elbow, was it, and forced the brew down your throat?’

It was an observation, he noted, that did not require an answer. He was glad there was a screen between them so that she could not see him blush. Instead, he said, in his best meek manner, ‘If you’ll just fetch me a little handglass and a razor, Miz Bunce, I’ll scrape the growth from my face . . .
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Last edited by Envinyatar; 01-05-2005 at 04:33 PM.
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Old 01-05-2005, 08:48 PM   #1202
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A post for Rasputina...

Rasputina left the stage to rest for awhile, though lying down on a nice bed wasn't her object of mind, a nice walk or thought next to a tree sounded great. After putting her cello away, and carring it with her (she never tried to leave it), she left the party hill. On her way down, she was passed by many people putting the last parts together - the handfasting would begin soon.

At the bottom of the hill she looked around for a road or pathway to travel. She spotted one near a field and decided it was suitable. She looked as she passed fields of corn, and other crops in the cycle of growth. She soon found a tree and set her cello next to it as well as herself. Now she settled her mind, thinking of what would come next. It felt so nice to doze off, now that she was calm.

She knew that she should return soon but, after she had settled her mind...

Awhile later, she went to the Inn - though, she really didn't know why. Upon entering her room, she came across the usual sights from the morning except for one. One of the storage spaces from the dresser was open, with her box open. Rasputina glanced around and looked everywhere. Who had taken it!? Where was it? She knew that she hadn't left it this way in the morning. Rasputina hadn't experienced a theft before but, it came like instinct. Whoever it was, knew what they were after. Another factor that puzzled her. Of this item, there were three others that looked almost identical except for what read under each of them, which was distinct to each of them. Rasputina was torn with shock - these were for the couple! Why would someone want them! To the average thief they looked valuable but, they decieved the eye. They were made of nothing but the supplies of the land - from the trees, earth, animals and sea.

Rasputina quickly searched her pocket to come across the two different items that she had also brought. They at least, were safe. Before leaving the room, she brought the other three from the box, to be safe. Being sure not to disturb the evidence, she quietly left the room with somewhat of a 'hothead'. By the time she reached the hill, here anger had left but ,the distinct facts and memory was set in her mind with sharpness. She soon quietly joined others at a table that had been on the stage.

A sentence ran in her mind like an ebbing and flowing wave of suspicion and uncertainty...

Who stole the gift?

Last edited by THE Ka; 01-06-2005 at 10:10 PM. Reason: well? What do you think? It's no mozart but, okay I guess.
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Old 01-05-2005, 09:38 PM   #1203
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As much as she enjoyed the playing and the company, Caity was quite relieved when the band decided to take a late-morning break. She had seen many of her companions looking longingly towards the ale, but she chose to get herself a nice mug of cold cider instead. She herself had been eyeing the punch that the three old gammers were concocting, but supposed she'd wait until later in the evening.

Picking several small sandwiches off a nearby platter since she hadn't yet eaten that morning, she looked around for someone to chat with, particularly Rasputina, having enjoyed their earlier discussion. Despite her quirky appearance, the elf was friendly, and seemed extremely pleased with the ways of the Shire. Caity had seen her heading in the general direction of the woods before, but now did not see her anywhere. The hobbit lass shrugged and made her way back to the stage. She sat down on the side of it with her food and watched the people going about their merry business.

As she was on her second sandwich, she noticed Mithalwen passing close by, her grey dress replaced by a fine aquamarine gown. Although she practically had to shout up at the tall Elf from her low seat, she managed to catch her attention and compliment her on her beautiful attire.

A few minutes later, Rasputina emerged from the inn, looking slightly distracted. She came near the stage, and Caity jumped up to meet her.

"There you are, Rasputina," she said. "I was wondering if you'd gotten lost in the woods." This was accompanied by a wink, for the Elf had already told her she hailed from Eryn Vorn. "You look famished -- here, have a sandwich."

Last edited by Encaitare; 01-06-2005 at 09:17 PM.
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Old 01-05-2005, 11:58 PM   #1204
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Hawthorne had finished ironing all the table linens and had now slipped out to go to her room. As she climbed the stairway to her chamber, she thought how different the Inn was from her own home. Brandy Hall was built deep inside a hill, with rambling tunnels running out in all directions. The Inn was just the opposite: it stretched straight up instead of down and around. Many Hobbits lived in buildings instead of smials, although Hawthorne swore that she never would. Still, there weren't many Hobbit homes that had staircases leading to a second floor.

Next year, if she stayed out of trouble, Uncle Merry had promised to take her along when he visited out east and introduced his new wife to his old friends from Rohan and Gondor. Hawthorne was trying very hard to behave because she was excited by the idea of such a trip. Uncle Merry had told her that the entire city of Minas Tirith was built up in the air, with several layers extending upward, each one higher than the next. The Hobbit lass couldn't imagine such a thing, but she wanted to go and have a look. Uncle Merry had said she and Estella would be the center of attention. Folk from Gondor and Rohan had seen several Hobbit lads during the war, but a young lass would be a pleasant surprise for them

Hawthorne brought her thoughts back to the present and looked over to where her new gown was carefully laid out on the bed. She had brought it all the way from Brandy Hall. It was pale yellow with green lacing and a bright green vest. The skirt was full and billowing and came up high on her waist. She slipped the dress over her head and fastened the lacings. She intended to dance a great deal tonight and wanted to look her best. Tying back her curls with a bright green ribbon, she smoothed out her skirt and slipped out in the hallway, preparing to go downstairs and see if anyone else had already dressed for the party.
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Old 01-06-2005, 02:27 AM   #1205
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The mayor arrives . . .

Ginger decided that perhaps one cup of the Grannies’ brew was enough. Her cheeks were quite warm, and she imagined actually quite red, as she put the back of one hand to her left cheek. She wriggled her toes in the soft grass where she stood and could feel the tingle in them as promised. The music from across the way set them tapping. Oh, my, but this would be a good night for dancing! She shivered in anticipation.

She noted, as she stood there, casually looking about for any sign of Ferdy, that many of those working earlier that morning had now returned to the yard dressed in their partying clothes. Ginger looked down at her skirt, stained with frosting from cookies she’d put in baskets and her blouse, wrinkled because she’d thrown it hastily on the floor last night. Now her cheeks were indeed crimson, and she hoped that not many had noted her messy state.

With wings on her feet, Ginger flew toward the Inn. Just as she reached the steps, she saw a cart enter the lane toward the Inn. Not Ferdy and his Da and Gran, she decided, her face falling a bit. Her sense of disappointment evaporated as she caught sight of who was driving. With a whoop of glee she dashed through the Inn and tried to push through the doors to the kitchen. They were locked!

Ginger banged with both fists on the doors and yelled out loudly. ‘Cook! Cook! Master Samwise is here with his family!’

On the other side of the door, she could just hear the sound of rapid footsteps nearing the door and the sound of a key in the lock . . .
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Old 01-06-2005, 03:30 AM   #1206
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An impromptu song for the bride . . .

Gil put down his concertina and stepped off the stage. The others had already gone off to fill their cups with ale or cider. He, too, was thirsty and stood looking at the two ale kegs that had been tapped. One was a heart stout. He could see the darkness of it swirling about in the mugs of those who’d chosen it for themselves. Enticing . . . but he stepped to his left, instead, and held out his mug for a bit of the Dragon’s nut brown ale. The smooth liquid flowed over his tongue and eased the dryness in his throat.

He stood, cradling the mug in his hands, and looking at the folk in their festive finery. His own clothes were not too dirty or rumpled he decided, looking down at them. With one free hand, he straightened his vest, then pushed back his wild curls. He was a well dressed as he was going to be . . . and what’s more, he was comfortable.

A sudden movement at an upstairs window caught his eye. Zimzi stood there, her hands on the window’s sill, smiling. She leaned out, her dark eyes glinting in the light as she looked about the yard. Her long dark hair was undone, and fell forward brushing her fair cheeks. He was struck by the beauty of her, caught up in her simple pleasure at the day. It was no wonder that Mister Derufin had caught her up and made her his own.

She looked down for a moment, and seeing him, grinned widely. She waved, laughing in delight at having seen him. Her hands made the motions of playing a concertina and she mouthed a ‘thank-you’ to him followed by a small bow. In turn, he raised his mug to her and bowed back. He held up a finger, indicating she should wait a moment.

Gil rushed back to where his concertina lay. He drank his ale down in a quick few gulps and picked up the instrument, moving the bellows back and forth to fill them with air. As quick as he’d left he returned to where he’d stood. An empty table stood nearby, and he jumped on its top, playing the opening notes to a song he hoped she would like. With a nod and a smile, he broke into song, changing the words of the old traditional Mairi's Wedding to fit the occasion.

Step we gaily, on we go
Heel for heel and toe for toe,
Arm in arm and row on row
All for Zimzi’s wedding.

Over hillways up and down
Myrtle green and bracken brown,
Past the camps through the town
All for sake of Zimzi.

Plenty herring, plenty meal
Plenty peat to fill her creel,
Plenty bonny bairns as weel
That's the toast for Zimzi.


Tomlin, too, seeing his companion singing to the fair lady, had grabbed up his fiddle and joined in on the accompaniment. Fallon and Ferrin, for their part, kept a firm grip on their mugs and sang along on the final chorus.

Cheeks as red as rowans are
Bright her eyes as any star,
Fairest o' them all by far
Is our darlin' Zimzi.

Step we gaily, on we go
Heel for heel and toe for toe,
Arm in arm and row on row
All for Zimzi’s wedding.


The lads bowed as they finished. And Zimzi, smiling, threw them each a small bunch of red Sweet Williams from the vase in her room before a soft voice behind her called her back from the window.
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Old 01-06-2005, 10:15 AM   #1207
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Avalon looked around at the celebration. The crow had seen gatherings before but normally remained at a distance. Now she was actually helping in the decorating. Avalon admired the garland and remembered that her helping made her some new friends. Avalon repositioned herself on the tree limb. Everything was crazy, she feared to get caught up in the hussel-n-bussel of the days work.

Turning her attention to the motion in Zimzi's room. Avalon thought that Zimzi would be lovely today. After all Avalon always thought of Zimzi as a gift from the heavens. Something below had caught Avalon's attention. All alone in the bushes was a single white flower. Gliding down from her branch Avalon noticed this flower was unlike all the flowers already gathered for the celebration. The white petals with red tips had Avalon caught up in a "spell". The beauty was of no comparison to that of the day's lady. Zimzi should have a flower so lovely.

Avalon used her sharp beak to snip the flower's light green stem right above the ground. Gently holding the large stem in her mouth, Avalon took flight. Perching on the window Avalon saw that the ladies were getting ready for the celebration. Laying the flower on the window sill between her golden talons, Avalon began to prepare for a squawk. Instead of the sound she was wanting Avalon instead let out a screech, causing the ladies to jump. If ever a crow could blush now would have been the time. Before Avalon could act, an unknown female came over to the window and began making an attempt to shoo the white crow away. This must be Zimzi's mother, I'm not going to leave until the lady has her flower.

Avalon bent down and picked the flower back up. Hopping to the floor, Avalon made her way to Zimzi. Raising her gaze to meet that of the fair, Avalon leaped into the air. Flapping her wings constantly Avalon was able to see Zimzi in the face. The flower still in her mouth, Avalon landed on the table near by and waited for Zimzi or someone to say something.
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Old 01-06-2005, 10:50 AM   #1208
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Shimshin

Having leapt off of the stage mid-dance, Shimshin skittered along the ground under the startled feet of the folks, both hobbit and human, who had gathered at the foot of the stage to watch the musicians. His attention had been drawn by the shiny buckle of a lady’s shoe, but, upon seeing that it was well-attached to the lady, Shimshin lost interest and turned his attention elsewhere. Looking back, he could see that his human companions, Owen and Seamus, were still playing their instruments on the stage. The spider monkey felt a flash of affection for them as he looked at them. They were always kind to him and gave him fresh apples and cashews when they had them, unlike Shimshin’s former masters who kept a tight leash around his neck or locked him up in a smelly cage. He smiled back at his two current masters.

Just then, the song ended and Seamus and Owen both left the stage. They seemed to be looking for him. Shimshin decided that he would rather not be found just yet and, with a deft movement ducked under a nearby lady’s skirt to hide. Outside the sheltering umbrella of the lady’s petticoats, the band continued playing merrily. Unable to resist the pull of the music, Shimshin began to dance. The lady under whose skirts he had taken refuge let out a shriek. She pulled up her copious skirts and jumped back, revealing the dancing figure of Shimshin.

“Shoo!” she said, and feebly flapped her skirts at him. Then, after first looking back to make sure someone was there to catch her, she fell away in a dead faint. Her startled husband stuck out an arm, barely catching her in time before she hit the ground. Noticing his slow reaction, the woman cracked an eyelid and hit him with her fan before falling back into her swoon.

Shimshin, seeing the world’s eyes focused upon him, jumped straight up in the air, then raced for the nearest tree, a large, spreading oak, which stood near the gate. Headed off by a pair of well-meaning hobbits, he changed direction and made for the front of the inn instead. Getting there, he scrambled up the doorframe and leaped on to the window sill of a second floor room. Shimshin ducked inside the open window.
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Old 01-06-2005, 11:52 AM   #1209
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Mithalwen had been pleased and reassured by Caity's compliment. the hobbit maid had been taking a break from her music making and Mithalwen decided to follow her example and went to fetch herself a drink. When she returned moments later, hoping to learn more of what to expect of the ceremony and festivities, Caity had caught the attention of the elf woman who played the strange viol. Mithalwen was pleased for she wished to learn more of her also. At least now she had learnt her name .. Rasputina .... it had a pretty sound but it was unfamiliar to her.

" Miss Caity," said the elf gravely " what will happen today? For I have never been to such an occasion as this" . She sat on the grass next to her. And then the attention of all was distracted by the antics of the tiny monkey. Mithalwen had never seen such a creature before and she laughed delightedly deeming that the woman was not truly hurt. These were a merry folk and the sorrows of the world seemed to have largely passed them by.
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Old 01-06-2005, 04:33 PM   #1210
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"What region are you from?" Baradil had asked.

"Actually, I move from place to place," Keleth replied as the two of them carried another table outside. "My sister, Taryn, and I go where we can work. I normally work in a stable at an inn. Other times I run messages for King Elessar."

They set the table in place on the grass. Keleth straightened and looked around. "I think we`re getting very close to being ready for the party. You arrived just in time. Come, let`s go get another table."

As Baradil and Keleth made their way back to the inn, Keleth asked the question that had been bothering him since he had learned Baradil was from Gondor. "What brings you so far North?" He did not want to pry, but he was curious.
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Old 01-06-2005, 06:01 PM   #1211
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1420! Uien and Falowik

Uien and Falowik took their leave of the kitchen and its colorful crew, allowing Derufin his privacy, screen or no! There were wedding gifts to retrieve and complete. It was chilly out, but they found a nook in the stable where they were able to do what was needed.

"'Tis a fine gift you will give them," Falowik said. "Elvish through and through. It makes my little what-not seem a silly little thing."

"Speak not so! Derufin will be charmed with your gift."
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Old 01-06-2005, 09:50 PM   #1212
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Caity, Mithalwen, Rasputina

Caity giggled along with the two elves at Shimshin's harmless tricks, and shook her head good-naturedly at the woman who had pretended to swoon and nearly been dropped by her husband. Then she turned back to Mithalwen.

"I've only been to one handfasting before, and that was when I was a child," she said. "But I certainly can tell you what's likely to happen. There will be a lovely ceremony, where Miss Zimzi and Master Derufin will pledge themselves to one another, and have their hands bound for a time. A song will be played just for them and they shall dance together, and then have their hands released. Then," she continued merrily, "there will be food and drink and dancing. There will be a number of speeches, of course, and that will take a while, but soon enough it will be back to the festivities."

Mithalwen smiled. "It sounds wonderful. Will it go all night?"

"Probably," Caity said. "There hasn't been a handfasting this big for a long time. But do you want to know the secret to keeping your energy?" She pointed across the lawn to the elderly hobbits around their vat. "See what those three gammers are mixing up? That's maiden's blush punch, and you'll just want to dance until morning... or so I've been told." She glanced over at Rasputina, who was chewing her sandwich thoughtfully and looking over at the tables.

She seems awfully distracted, Caity thought. I wonder if something's happened.
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Old 01-07-2005, 02:31 AM   #1213
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Cook handed round a straight razor and a mirror to Derufin as requested. The razor had been her late husband’s, made of good dwarven steel he liked to tell the boys. Held an edge forever, he would brag to them. Still, she handed Derufin the strop, too; telling him he could hook the ring over the chair back. The sound of the rhythmic swish-swish brought back pleasant memories of her own dear’s little ritual for shaving. As an afterthought she passed the man a little bottle of the solution she’d made for her mister to use after a shave. She still made it now and then, a little of it, just enough to keep the bottle filled and remind her of her dear when she unstoppered it. Bay leaves, it was, and two sprigs of rosemary, covered with a southron spirit called rum. Left for a month to steep, the liquid was refreshing to the face, or so her husband had told her, and had a deep, satisfying scent.

She’d just heard Derufin begin to scrape the blade across his whiskers when someone came banging on the locked door to the common room. It was Ginger, she could tell, though the girl was out of breath and a bit raspy. Cook fetched the keys from her apron pocket and unlocked the door. Ginger, her hand already on the door’s knob, stumbled in through the door and fell against Cook.

‘Been dipping into the Grannies’ punch, have you?’ said Cook maneuvering Ginger to a chair. The scent of maywine and cherry cordial lingered about her. Ginger waved off the question, saying it was but one small cup . . . and more important was the news she brought. Samwise and his family had arrived for the party.

Cook grinned widely. She’d hadn’t a chance to see the new wee one that Rose and Sam had added to their brood. Little baby Daisy! Today would be her chance. More important, though, Mayor Sam would have brought the Hobbiton/Bywater book of births and deaths and handfastings. Mister Derufin and Mistress Zimzi’s union would be recorded for . . . now what was the word that Samwise used . . . posterity,that was it . . .

From behind the screen across the kitchen came the sound of someone clearing his throat. Ginger raised her brows, then nodded as Cook mouthed . . . ‘Derufin’ . . . and ‘cleaning up a bit’ . . . ‘If you ladies wouldn’t mind, I’ll just go into your room Cook and dry off and get dressed. Sakal’s put my clothes in there, hasn’t he?’

‘And your boots are by the wardrobe,’ Cook added, taking off her apron. She hung it on a peg by the door and left the man to get out of the tub and get dressed. She turned Ginger around and putting her arm about the girl’s shoulders, steered her out of the Inn. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to Sam and Rose and all the little Gardners . . .’

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Old 01-07-2005, 11:49 AM   #1214
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Little Marigold wandered out of the kitchen with a wistful little look on her face. She had heard that the women-folk were going to begin their dressing for the hand-fasting. And little Marigold had no dress with her but the one she was wearing. It wasn't a shabby dress, and in fact very pretty, with its rich blue skirt and white blouse trimmed with lace, but it was muddy from the rain. She wondered if it would be inappropriate to attend a hand-fasting in such a dirty state. She sat down to listen to the musicians, and put her hands into her pockets, bringing out what she found there and laying it on her lap to study. Some hair ribbons, mostly blue... her father's old whistle... and this was what she wanted! It was a pretty little comb her dear mother had given her. She sat back and began to work her way through the tangles in her golden curls.

Falco Headstrong was apparently quite at ease with the players, she observed. He listened to their songs, and in the last song, he sang loudly and sat back chuckling to himself when it was done.

"Oh, lads, you don't know how much good it did me to hear that song," he said. "We used to sing it at every wedding when I was a boy. I always led them, for I had the grandest voice of them all. And then afterwards we'd go through the verse and chorus with our instruments. I would play my old tin whistle. Nobody had nimbler fingers than I... nobody had faster fingers, though of course we played this song nice and easy... just right for the stepping gaily."

"He hasn't said 'no doubt' once," thought little Marigold. "He must love music very much, if he won't be bleak about it." She took up her father's old whistle. "Mr. Headstrong," she said, going to him, "you may use my father's tin whistle if you like."

"Why!" said Falco Headstrong, peering down at her and taking it in his hands. "That's good of you, my dear. But I don't know if these young people would want an old hobbit like me joining them." Yet he glanced at Gil with a little smile. "If I can contribute to your fine talent in any way," he said, "I should be more than pleased. If you'd rather not have an aged hobbit like me, I should be equally pleased to merely sit and listen."
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Old 01-07-2005, 02:48 PM   #1215
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White Tree Baradil and Keleth

"What brings you so far North?" Keleth asked.

"I was sent to survey the old city of Annuminas, and the land round about," Baradil answered as he bent to lift the end of another, and the last, table. "My Lord Faramir said that plans are being made to rebuild the city; I volunteered to go ascertain the condition of it, to see what would be needed to repair it, and guess at how long it will take."

They carried the table outside and set it up. Keleth wiped his brow and moved to sit in the shade of a nearby tree. Baradil joined him.

"I thought," Keleth said, "that the Rangers frequented that area. Would not they have had maps detailing the area and the city?"

"They do. In fact that is how I was able to find Annuminas at all. What I did was create diagrams and figures of the city, to give some idea of the exact condition of it. This will hopefully aid in the plans for reconstruction."

"No doubt it will."

They fell silent, resting and watching the last minute preparations.

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Old 01-07-2005, 06:28 PM   #1216
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"Rebuilding Annuminas?! I had not heard tell of that! It will be interesting to see what it will be like." Actually, this interested Keleth very much. He had seen old cities and structures before. On the way here, he had seen Amon Sul from a distance. He had always been curious about the past.

"You are under the command of Lord Faramir then? I have met him a few times before. A very kind, and honorable man. You are lucky to know him well."

Looking around, Keleth saw that more kegs of ale were being "tested," as the halflings had called it. "I have been working all morning, and have not had anything to eat or drink since breakfast," Keleth said. "The food will be put out soon, I expect, but would you care to join me in, ah, "testing" the ale?"

"Alright," Baradil replied, and they made their way over to the group of hobbits gathered around the kegs.
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Old 01-07-2005, 11:09 PM   #1217
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Cheeks as red as rowans are
Bright her eyes as any star,
Fairest o' them all by far
Is our darlin' Zimzi.


Fairleaf’s branches swayed in time to the merry music as she watched the group of fellows singing to someone. From her vantage point she could see the expressions on the singers and players faces, but not that of the one they sang to. She must be pretty though . . . with her cheeks red as the berries of the rowan tree. Fairleaf’s leaves rustled at the thought of an old friend, in the foothills of the Misty Mountains . . . she was a fair, slender rowan, and against the white snows of winter, her last wizened berries heralded the promise of returning spring.

Bright her eyes as any star . . . Fairleaf inched slowly through the little line of trees that lined the edge of the yard. Just a wee bit more and she would see the one they sang to.

Zimzi . . . that must be her name. Fairleaf had the window now in view. But the song had ended and the young men had bowed, dispersing as they picked up the flowers that had fallen at their feet. The one for whom they played had withdrawn, moving back into the shadows. Later she thought . . . surely I will see her later.

The scent of something quite pleasant wafted up from a tub just a little ways away from her. Three wrinkled, grey-crowned creatures with sparkling eyes and easy laughs held sway over the liquid contents of the rub, doling it out in small portions to those who waited so patiently, laughing, too.

Later, too, thought Fairleaf, I believe I’ll have a drop of that draught the old ones have brewed . . .
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Old 01-08-2005, 01:16 AM   #1218
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Gil & Falco Headstrong

‘Well, sir,’ said Gil, ‘Mr. Headstrong, that is,' he continued, remembering what the pretty little golden-curled girl who'd given the older hobbit the whistle had called him. ‘It would be a pleasure to have you play with us. We’ve a fair cache of songs and tunes, but I’m thinking a man of your years and experience could show us a few new ones and maybe a few variations on the ones we do know.’ He looked over to where Tomlin, Fallon, and Ferrin stood. Tomlin was leaned casually against a nearby tables while the other two sat on the table itself there feet planted firmly on the bench. ‘What do you say, lads? Think the stage’ll hold another one of us?’

Ferrin laughed, saying another pipe player was always welcome. ‘But best be wetting your whistle first, sir,’ he said, pouring a mug of nut brown ale from the flagon they’d brought to the table. Tomlin and Fallon rolled their eyes at the poor jest. ‘What can we say, sir,’ Tomlin said, holding the half pint out to Falco. ‘He’s a drummer . . .’
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Old 01-08-2005, 09:03 AM   #1219
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Owen

Owen decided that this was rather a pleasant and rewarding job, even if unpaid. It was much better than pitching hay or mucking out a stable. And he held himself a little bit straighter seeing all the fine guests arriving. It seemed like the best of the Shire was turning out for this affair. Even Samwise, the mayor himself, had appeared bringing his family in tow. Now there was a hobbit fairly bursting with the stuff that songs are written about! Owen had heard a thing or two about him, for even in Dale he was known to be a friend of the King. And now that Owen clapped eyes on him, he couldn’t believe that such a mild looking fellow had so much to do with the Dark Lord’s defeat. But there would be plenty of time to see if he might be coaxed to tell a tale.

Owen quickly finished off his second mug as he saw Gil and Tomlin, Ferrin and Fallon tucking sweet william flowers into their buttonholes and helping themselves at the kegs, before returning to the platform. Gil was busily talking to Master Headstrong, a hobbit who Owen had initially thought quite stiff, but who had proved rather an inspired player. The old curmudgeon had seemed to melt like a pat of butter when music was concerned. And where Owen had thought that the old hobbit had little chance of ever enjoying himself, he happily found himself in error. Owen wanted to enjoy himself as well, but unfortunately found he could not, not fully.

It was not what could be seen, nor his poor clothes that weighed on Owens’s plate, but rather what could not be seen. Still Shimshin had not returned, and neither had Seamus who had gone in search of the monkey at the end of the set. It had seemed an interminably long time since the little scamp had run off, and Owen pushed his dark blonde locks off his forehead as he surveyed once again the ground between the gaily-colored skirts and trousers. His eyes wandered until they caught a glimpse of the well between the milling crowds, and a sharp stab of panic overcame him. Setting his bladder pipe down, he quickly jumped off the stage and ran to the well, thinking what a fool he had been for forgetting to give Shimshin a taste of water.

The well small and deep, and looking over the edge it was very, very dark. “Shimshin?” Owen called, his voice echoing back to him. Then nothing. The man began to search for where the rope was tied when he came upon a rather smug looking cat that sat in the cool shade.
Owens’ brow furrowed as he saw it was the same cat who had earlier sharpened his claws on young Willy’s coat, but the animal merely licked its lips with disdain, and yawned. “Oh if you’ve so much as scratched my little Shimshin,” he threatened, “I have friend who’d know how to make good use of you!” With that he rapidly untied the rope and carefully lowered the bucket into the blackness below. “Shimshin? Are you down there lad?” Silence. Owen pulled the bucket up again and stood a while by the well, considering if he should ask Mithalwen and Rasputina or perhaps Caity if they had seen which way the little fellow went.
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Old 01-08-2005, 10:53 AM   #1220
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How unfair life was!

Tevildo had been minding his own business and snoozing quietly, curled up in a ball on top of another soft jacket that had slipped down underneath the table. The soft folds of the jacket made a cool and comfy bed where he could close one eye and doze a bit, yet keep the other one slightly open, trained on what was going on around him. Unlike poor mortal beings who could only be in one place and do one thing at a particular time, his own race had a decided advantage. Like all cats, Tevildo had the gift of wandering in a shadowy dream world while the rest of his body was half awake in Middle-earth. Tevildo thought this had been one of the presents that Melko had bestowed on them in the early days, although none of the legends seemed to mention that.

This time, one-half of Tevildo's brain was lost in a dream, chasing and tormenting gigantic grey rats on the shores of distant Numenor, a feat he clearly remembered from his younger days when he had just been starting on his second life. The other half of his mind was alert and clearly aware of what this nasty musician Owen was saying. Tevildo honestly had no idea where Shimshins was. Quite frankly, he had no use whatsoever for any animal who went about on two-legs, aping the ways of mortal men. Yet here was this rude fellow who seemed to think that Tevildo was responsible for the monkey's disappearance.

Tevildo stood up, hunching his back with his snowball-white fur on end, and glanced over at the musician wondering how he could back at the the man for his rude comments and threats. He warily eyed the air bladder that Owen had set down on a nearby bench. He considered going over and jumping on it, using the instrument as a handy way to sharpen his claws. He could do quite a bit of damage with only one leap, and it would teach the fellow a well deserved lesson. But the man was still glaring at him, and Tevildo wasn't sure if he could get away unscathed.

Abruptly, Tevildo's attention was drawn to the door of the Inn. A hobbit family--a mister, a missus, and a whole string of little ones--were pouring in. Shouts of "Mayor Gamgee" and cheers went up from several of the hobbit onlookers. Tevildo had little interest in "Mayor Gamgee", whoever or whatever that was. What concerned him more was the young golden haired lass with big blue eyes who trailed along at the end of the family parade. She cradled a pretty basket in her arms that had been woven out of wicker. Inside the little basket and peeping out from beneath the pink blanket was the face of the same grey she-cat he had tangled with the night before at Bag-end. The face was now framed in a baby's bonnet and had a yellow ribbon with a charm dangling around its neck. But the look in the cat's eye had not changed: she looked decidedly imperious and unfriendly. Tevildo slunk back into the shadows and wondered what he should do.
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Old 01-08-2005, 01:38 PM   #1221
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Nick

Nick wandered about feeling lost. Willy had abandoned him, and he did not know anyone. The Big Folk everywhere scared him. In addition to it all, he was at an Inn! Ma said he and Willy weren't old enough, and he was going to get in trouble. Willy said it didn't matter as long as Ma didn't find out. Nick wasn't so sure, but he admired Willy and his daring beyond all else. Except Willy had run off. Nick was miserable. He had thought to find Shimshin, but the monkey was no where to be seen. He saw the nice man who had the monkey, but Nick was still shy of him - he was one of the Big Folk, and so Nick had studiously avoided him.

Suddenly Nick's eyes lit on the scurrying brown figure, running from a pair of hobbits. It was Shimshin! Nick started to run after them, but stopped abruptly when Shimshin made a flying leap onto a second story window of the inn and disappeared inside. Nick wanted the company of his new friend, but then he would have to go inside again - and to the second floor, no less! Nick didn't like heights either. But... there weren't so many strangers inside. All the people out here were making Nick nervous. Slowly, Nick made his way over to the Inn door, and nearly headed right back outside again. Here, all the hobbits were cheering! Nick realized it was because the mayor was here. Nick wasn't really sure what the mayor did, but he did know he made long speeches and helped run the Shire. Nick didn't want to be noticed by anyone so important, so spotting the stairs he slipped over along the wall.

He ascended the stairs slowly because he was not accustomed to them. His own hobbit-hole had no stairs, and there were very few hobbit buildings that did. At the top, Nick was dismayed to find a long hallway of doors. Shimshin could be behind any one of them! Experimentally, he tried the first door on his left. The knob turned easily and Nick peeked inside. The room was neat, but clearly inhabited - there were lumpy packages and a pack for travelling lined along one wall. This was a bad thing to do, Nick knew. These were people's rooms! But Shimshin was in one of these rooms. Quietly, Nick shut the door and tried the next one. It was locked. The next room Nick tried was open, but not nearly so clean. Luggage was piled in disarray in the corner, a dress hung over a chair, and the bed was unmade. Shimshin was not here either. At the next door, Nick heard voices and so he skipped it. He continued down the hallway in a similar manner, but found Shimshin in none of the rooms. Shimshin must be in one of the locked rooms!

Nick stuck out his lower lip and tears began to form in his eyes. Willy had left him, Shimshin had left him, he couldn't talk to anyone because they were strangers, and he couldn't go home because then he would have to tell Ma where he'd been. Nick went back to the stairs, and realized he didn't think he could get back down them! He couldn't see the bottom because of a turn in the staircase, and the railing was too high to be used comfortably. Feeling uncared-for and lonely, Nick plunked down at the top of the stairs and began to cry.

~*~*~

Willy

A quick look around the grounds showed Willy that Nick was no where to be found. He knew he would be in trouble when he got home: he was at the Inn, his coat was ripped, and Nick was lost. Willy decided he had better enjoy himself while he could, and promptly forgot about his problems.

In his fascination for the monkey and pursuit of the cat, he had forgotten about the many Elves that had originally captured his interest. At first, it seemed to him that they were little different from the ordinary Big Folk, but then he found that it was not so. They were more... graceful, or something. Other than that, Willy's close observation disappointed him. The Elves, called the Fair Folk and almost revered in many stories, did not seem so different than ordinary folk. They played their instruments with some hobbits and Big Folk, and talked like normal people (though perhaps the women's voices were slightly more musical). At any rate, the Elves soon lost his interest and Willy noticed that he was thirsty.

Spotting three old Gammers giving out punch under some shade, Willy headed over to them purposefully. By the reactions of their customers, it must be good. Unfortunately for Willy, his successful morning had dulled his caution.

"May I have some punch, Ma'am?" he asked politely. One of them laughed. "I don't think so, young mister," said one of them, shaking her spoon at him. "This is only for the ladies at the party. You can have some water, here, instead, if you like." Why only the ladies? he wondered. What's so special about it? He resolved to come back later and try to sneak a taste - these old ladies did not look so spry and he supposed he could outrun them, at any rate. Meanwhile, Willy nodded and she served him up a cup of ice water.

"You going to dazzle the young lasses tonight dancing?" teased the gammer who had given him his water. To the others, she said, "They get younger all the time." The first laughed softly again.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that," evaded Willy. This conversation was downright uncomfortable! Then the third, who had been studying him carefully thusfar, spoke up, "I know you. You're Poppy Burrows's second lad, aren't you? You supposed to be here, or has she changed her mind about letting you come to inns on your own?" Willy froze.

"Um, Yes'm, my name's Willy," he said. Then he began to improvise. "Ma, uh, sent me here to help with the handfasting."

"This doesn't look like helping to me," she answered. Willy suddenly was able to put a name to her: Granny Heathertoes. "I suppose you aren't supposed to be here after all, are you? I tell you what. I'll keep your secret, if you go over there to the kitchen and find out what you can to help right now. Got it?"

"Yes, Ma'am," said Willy. How could he be so foolish? He set down his empty cup and hurried away to the Inn dejectedly. He saw, however, that the hobbit lady in charge (Cook, he thought) was quite busy greeting the Mayor Samwise himself! Willy sighed and leaned against the Inn, waiting for the right time to find out how he should be helping.

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Old 01-08-2005, 02:48 PM   #1222
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Primula Rose and Dob Tunnelly encounter Willy

It had all the makings of a merry meeting, Primula Rose decided, as she stopped in front of the Inn with her husband in tow and looked around. The music was jolly, the faces looking back at her were cheerful and the food was smelling delightful. She was going to love this party.

"We seemed to have dropped quite in the middle of it, so let's enjoy it before it all ends!" she said in a light tone to the man next to her.

The answer she received would have drowned anyone's cheer:

"Humph. Yeah, let's get to where the food is and devour at least twice our weight! Although this will be small price to pay for the long and tiresome journey! And where, of all places! The Shire! Whoever heard of respectable Bree-folk leaving their home to meddle with strangers all the way up in Hobbiton! I should never have come here if it were not for the promise of plentiful food."
"You shall have that, don't worry", Primula Rose answered. "Unless these people are your kind, Dob, you scrape-penny!"

"Well, they are not my kind, and I'm glad of that! What are we doing to a Big Folk wedding anyway? What was the bride's name again? Zimziran? Too fancy a name if you ask me!"

"We are here because we were invited by Vinca, who used to be friends with my mother", Primula Rose answered. She did not remember Vinca very well, save as a distant but kindly figure, but the wording of the invitation was so friendly that she found it difficult to refuse.

Her husband, Dob, meanwhile, was looking around with what he wished was an air of amused contempt. His eyes fell on a hobbit lad leaning against the side of the Inn. He called out to him:

"Hey there! Boy? Is there anyone who can show us to our place at the tables?"

The boy made no move, instead staring at him perplexed.

"Are you, deaf, young lad, or just plain dumb? Answer me, what is your name?"

"Willy", the boy answered, finally recovering from seeing an unfriendly stranger address him like that. "But there is no one to show you to your table, I mean, you have to find your way yourself." He smiled apologetically: "We don't care much for decorum around here, everyone stands where they wish, and for how long they wish as long as they have a good time."

"That's lovely", Primula Rose replied smiling at Willy. "I'm glad to hear that because I don't care much for decorum myself."

"Decorum is just another name for order, my love", Dob replied with a small grimace, "And order is something all hobbit folk can never have too much of. But no matter", he continued. "Thank you, boy. We will sit where we may then."

"Er, if you don't mind, sir, ma'am!" Willy shouted after them as they prepared to move along. "What are your names? I haven't seen you around here."

"That's because we're not from around here. We're Breelanders, and we're the Tunnellys. I'm Dob Tunnelly and this is my wife, Primula Rose Tunelly. She was born and raised in Brandy Hall."

Primula Rose extended a hand:

"I'm pleased to meet you, Willy. Sorry for not introducing ourselves sooner, that was rude of us."

"Oh, that's alright", Willy said. "I hope you enjoy yourselves at the party."

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Old 01-08-2005, 06:02 PM   #1223
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Falco Headstrong flushed right up to his ears, he was so please that the young boys had accepted him. Maybe it was because his clothes were muddy. Back home the lads had always thought him very stuck-up and proud and hadn't wanted much to do with him, aside from making snide comments behind his back. If only they could see him now, standing and playing with these young boys!

He laughed heartily at Ferrin's perhaps rather poor joke, and drank his pint willingly. Ah, this was where he liked to be! This is where he belonged. Memories of merry days gone by returned to his memory, and he felt young again. He could almost see himself, sitting by the fire, his eyes shining as he whistled a lively tune... he could hear the voice of his old childhood friend, who was the best singer in the South Farthing... he saw lads and lassies dancing and clapping... yes, he could see it all again!

"Referring to what you said earlier, sir," he said, addressing Gil, "yes, I know some fine old songs. I don't often sing them as they were sung long ago, because Fosco (an old friend of mine) and I liked to get the listeners singing, too, and they wouldn't do it if they didn't know how. But, yes, I do know some old songs." He finished his pint, and stood. "In fact, one has sprung to mind that is both appropriate and inappropriate for the occasion. It involves hand-fasting in a sense, but at the same time it is a misfortunate event that we could be glad to say is not falling upon the pretty fair one... you called her Zimzi? Yes, well... if you're familiar with this tune, do play with me. It's called Old Maid in the Garret."

Falco jumped upon the little stage the lads had been playing on, and began to whistle a merry and fast tune... not at all suggesting a 'misfortunate event,' Marigold thought. The younger musicians did seem to be familiar with the tune, and those who weren't absorbed in eating joined in. Seeing that he had accompaniment, Falco lowered the whistle and began to sing.

I was told by my aunt,
I was told by my mother
that going to a wedding
is the makings of another,
And if this be so then
I'll go without a bidding.
Oh, kind providence
won't you send me to a wedding.


And it's oh dear me! How will it be
if I die an Old Maid in the Garret?


There's my sister Peony;
she's not handsome or good-looking.
Scarcely sixteen
and a fine lad she was courting.
Now she's twenty-four
with a son and a daughter;
here am I at forty-four
and I've never had an offer!


And it's oh dear me! How will it be
if I die an Old Maid in the Garret?


I can cook and I can sew,
I can keep the house right tidy,
rise up in the morning
and get the breakfast ready.
There's nothing in this wide world
that makes my heart so cheery
as a wee fat man to call me
his own dearie!


And it's oh dear me! How will it be
if I die an Old Maid in the Garret?


And then Falco let his voice fall silent and began to play his whistle again. He was stamping his feet... little golden-haired Marigold was clapping in time to the music and laughing... there were ejaculations of encouragement and admiration from the crowd of listeners... his eyes were shining... he could almost hear Fosco beside him, laughing, clapping, dancing... he could see his sister, dancing the baby in he rarms... and he could almost see that very sweetest of sweet faces, that dimpled smile, those black curls falling around the rosy cheeks. She was happier and merrier than anyone else. And then she faded away from the green lawn, but there was no sudden pang in his heart. He saw Marigold's little face, and he thought her smile was remarkably like the black-haired girl's smile.

He finished his instrumental piece and sang the last verse.

So come landsman, come townsman,
come tinker or come tailor,
come fiddler, come dancer,
come ploughboy or come sailor,
come rich man, come poor man,
come fool or come witty,
come any man at all!
Won't you marry out of pity?


And it's oh dear me! How will it be
if I die an Old Maid in the Garret?


One last time he sang the chorus, slowing down and drawing the last note out for a finish.

And it's oh dear me! How will it be
if I die an Old Maid in the Garret?
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Old 01-08-2005, 07:49 PM   #1224
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Shimshin

Shimshin’s searching stopped abruptly as he heard a thin wailing arising somewhere close by. He cocked his head listening to the strange sound for a moment before loping to the door. Taking from his mouth the handsome brooch he had just managed to dislodge from the cloak draped along side a gray dress, he peered though the keyhole, and saw nothing. Whinnying mournfully he put his lips close to the opening and let the brooch clatter to the floor as he grasped the door handle awkwardly. The wailing stopped.

The monkey was just about to take up again the shiny prize when several small fingers appeared from under the door, frightening him. Shimshin snatched up the brooch and dashed for the window barking with alarm. He swung quickly outside and leapt from shutter to enter another, quieter room. But too dull it was, and he quickly tired of it. Pulling on the door, it opened slightly and the monkey slipped through, and into a long hallway.

Ambling cheerfully along, Shimshin saw a small figure in the hall crouching down to speak into a keyhole. Running up, he leapt on the narrow back, and perched on the little boy’s head, leaning over to look down at his face and the water droplets there. Studying the tears, he touched one with his tiny black finger and taking the brooch out of his mouth he brought the tear up, tasting it.

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Old 01-08-2005, 10:05 PM   #1225
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1420! A further verse and another ale . . .

Tomlin dropped his fiddle down to his waist as the last chorus was sung, and tapped out the rhythm on its bowed wood back. When the last notes from Falco had just begun to die down, he nodded to him with a smile. ‘Now, sir, that’s a fine old song . . . but have you heard this verse?’ He played the opening notes to the song, humming in his sweet tenor voice.

‘Twas sung to me by man who’d traveled south, he went on, ‘far south, where there are rare gaudy birds living side by side with men. Birds who can talk, the piper said, and live as long or longer than any man. Oft times they are companions to the lonely or to those who prefer the company of birds to other men.’ He laughed a bit. ‘In this case, it was a case of a lonely lady making do . . .’

Well now I'm away home ‘cause there’s nobody heeding
There’s nobody heedin’ to poor old Rosie’s pleadin’.
I'll go away to my own wee bit garret
If I can't get a man, then I'll surely get a parrot!


The others grinned at the additional verse, then ended the song with another chorus.

And it's oh dear me! How will it be . . .
if I die an Old Maid in the Garret?


Another round of ale was called for and gotten. And Fallon, still tapping his toe to the last tune asked, ‘Wasn’t there also a verse we learned . . . one about a quite sooty chimney sweep . . . and how he married the old gal out of pity?’
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Old 01-08-2005, 10:43 PM   #1226
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The old hobbit played a mean tin whistle.

Caity watched and listened with rapt attention from her seat on the grass. All signs of age seemed to have left him; he acted as young as any lad in the band. His fingers flew over the whistle as he played between verses.

And it's oh dear me! How will it be . . .
if I die an Old Maid in the Garret?


They finished the song and bowed to those listening, who applauded. Caity jumped up and clapped her hands. "One minute -- I have to meet the whistle player!"

She climbed up onto the state and approached him. He was smiling and laughing with the other players, who were congratulating him on his singing and playing.

"Good morning, sir," she said, smiling at him.

"Morning, lass! Did you like the song we played?"

"I loved it," she responded, "especially your whistle playing. Will you be joining us in the band tonight?"

"Ah, so you're in the band?" he said. "Well, I certainly hope to. What is it you play here? Aha, I think I know." He gave a mischievous smile uncharacteristic of an older hobbit. "I'll bet you've got a lovely singing voice, eh?"

She blushed. "I'd hardly think so, sir. No, I play the whistle as well, and also the flute. That's why I admired your little performance so much. Why, I've never heard anyone play such a spirited tin whistle before."

He smiled reminiscently. "Brought me right back to how things used to be back when I was a lad, and everyone would gather round and listen... oh, never mind me, I'm just carrying on now, Miss...?"

"Caity Brandybuck, sir," she told him. "It'll be a pleasure to have you in our group tonight."

"Falco Headstrong," he said courteously. "And, likewise."
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Old 01-09-2005, 03:36 AM   #1227
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He really did feel better, he concluded, stretching his neck to one shoulder and then the other. The headache was gone, and with it had fled the incipient threat of revolt by his belly. ‘Bless you, Miz Bunce!’ he said aloud to her empty room.

Derufin leaned forward over the dressing table that stood to the side of the Hobbit’s door, and inspected his face. The nap had done wonders to clear the dark circles from beneath his eyes. The hot bath and shave had taken off a layer of grime and stubbly hair, letting him appear more the eager husband to be than some brigand come to carry the lady off. From the bottle of splash Cook had given him, Derufin poured a few drops into his palms and slapped it briskly onto his clean shaven cheeks and jaw. It was an enervating mixture, to say the least. And the smell, much to his delight, displaced the odor of lilacs from the Hobbit’s soap.

Sakal had brought over his clothes for the celebration. Clean, new black breeches held in place by a dark leather belt, a soft grey tunic Zimzi had made for him, and his black leather vest . . . not the one he wore every day, mind you, but his good one, for special occasions. Merry had done a miraculous job on his boots. The supple leather was cleaned and buffed to a handsome shine. The familiar odor of saddle soap and polish clung to them making him laugh. He could just see the Hobbit sitting on a hay bale, brandishing the polish cloth and buffing brush, and all the while explaining to his four legged charges how even the two-leggeds needed a bit of sprucing up now and then.

Done, he looked at himself once more. His dark hair was pulled back and secured by a plain leather thong to hang down behind his shoulders. The clothes he’d put on looked good enough and even his nails were quite clean and presentable at the direction of Cook. As a manner of habit, Derufin polished the toes of his boots on the backs of his legs, then headed out into the kitchen. He unlocked the doors, and tidied up as he could the tub and towels he’d used.

Only a few people were in the Common room as he passed through, and most of them were the servers running in to fetch last minute things for the start of the party. They shouted to him as they saw him, wishing him the best of days. By the time he reached the front door, he was grinning, caught up in the happy, infectious mood. He stood for a moment on the porch, blinking in the bright sun’s light. A thought crept up from the back of his mind and he began to pat the little pockets on his vest and then fished into the pockets of his breeches. A mystified look took hold the features of his face.

A soft laugh and a quick nudge of his elbow brought his attention to his right . . . to Sakal, who stood grinning like a cat got into cream. ‘Hold out your hand, if you will. I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be lost,’ he said, placing the slim gold band into Derufin’s palm. Derufin shook his head at the man, ‘Had me quite alarmed for a moment!’ He smiled back at Sakal and secured the ring in an inner pocket of his vest.

‘Let’s walk about and see who’s here,’ he said, motioning for Sakal to come along with him . . .
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Old 01-09-2005, 10:47 AM   #1228
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Tabulus

The table stood in the yard, as time went by. The dawn was replaced by fine morn. People passed to and fro of their own accord. Some eyed the table with mild curiosity, some stopped to look it all over, one even to stroke its dainty legs, but everyone soon remembered their own business and went away. But, as noon brought the warmth of winter son into the air, four lads came out, took the table by its corners and brought it into the Inn, into the very Common Room where it was placed by one of the walls

‘We will use it for flowers’ said Aman ‘and some vases with fruits will look wonderful on it too. Ruby, dear, bring the duster and polish liquid, there is a kind lass – we need to make it presentable first. And white cloth to cover it, the one with primroses embroidery, you know, it is in the left-hand lower box of the wardrobe’

In no time at all, newly acquired table was brought out again, now dusted, polished so its dark brown surfaces shined and sparkled. It was clothed and decorated with colored glass-vases, some holding flowers, some fruits of the kind to be grown in the Southfarthing hotbeds even in wintertime.

For now, it was drawing attention of few children who where already in for the party. Lads and lasses where playing a game of ‘steal an apple’, though Brownlock, who was appointed to look for the preparations outside, was not really ‘guarding’ fructose delicacies against them, just smiled softly and refilled the vases emptied by the tomboys and hoydens. Grown ups, as yet, were preserving their noble hunger for the main fare.
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Old 01-09-2005, 11:04 AM   #1229
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Silmaril Uien and Falowik

A shaft of sunlight illuminated a couple in a corner of the stables. Dust particles danced and swam in the shaft of light. The Elf woman's hair was turned gossamer in the rays. The man noticed and was moved by the beauty of her hair. She looked up to him above the work between them and smiled.

"The last ingredients are all we need now, Laurëatan."

"Are you sure they are necessary, Uien?"

She grinned and touched his nose with the tip of her long finger. "Fear not. I shall be the one to get them." She tipped her head back and her eyes looked vacant as she saw with her mind; Falowik knew what that look meant. "Derufin has finished his bath and grooming and is moving through the Common Room. I shall go see him now."

Falowik shook his head. "Oh to be an Elf." She smiled and rose. "Should I remain here?"

"Go where you like. You know that I can find you wherever you are."

"Of course." Falowik shook his head again. "Osanwë."

"I would that you allow me to teach it to you." She regarded him seriously.

"Nay. I would not be tempted to know the minds of others whose affairs are none of my business."

"That is a risk, I admit, but your words assure me it would not be so with you."

"Nevertheless, I would not know it. I need it not."

"Very well then. But come with me! The feast is laden outside the inn. Come and enjoy the smell of good food and the music. There is a table blessed with especial care that I think you will want to see."

He nodded and they walked together out of the stables and into the bright sun. When they came to the front of the inn, Falowik parted from Uien and examined the fare, and the singular table upon which so much care had been given. She found Derufin standing at the door to the inn, accepting something from a strapping young fellow who wore a big grin. Derufin grinned at the joke.

"Derufin! I greet you and wish you well on the day of your handfasting!" Uien cried as she came up to him. His eyes widened.

"Uien! How did you know?"

"Elves have their ways." She kissed him on his clean and fresh smelling cheek. "I am glad that you have recovered from your morning illness."

"Thank you!" He said, coughing into his hand shamefacedly. The young man with him laughed and elbowed him. "Ah! Excuse me, Uien. Allow me to introduce you to my soon-to-be brother by law, Sakal!"

Once the formal greetings and introductions were complete, Uien said, "I have a boon to ask of you, Derufin."

"Yes?"

"Let me pluck ten strands of your hair, from the roots. And no questions."

Derufin winced. "It sounds painful. Will I not look silly missing that much?"

"Nay," Uien laughed. "I will remove it painlessly and you will look none the worse."

"Pluck away, then!"

"My thanks!" She reached and took hold, counting off ten strands. "Fin tulolain othond." She plucked.

Derufin's eyes went wide. "Did you get any?"

"See?" She grinned, holding ten locks of his hair, roots and all, between her long, supple fingers.

"It did not hurt a wit!"

"'Twas the Elvish glammer she spoke, I warrant," said Sakal with a wink.

Uien winked at Sakal. "Now I must find Zimzi!" She left them.

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Old 01-09-2005, 11:42 AM   #1230
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Falco was pleased to be invited to play in their band that night, and he was interested in the young whistler. He would like to see her play... he should like to hear her play. It would be nice to see that there will still some in the Shire who took some honest interest in the 'old ways.' He couldn't say he had anything against the 'new ways' that were spreading about, but it was the fear of his heart that the old songs would be forgotten. Almost all the young people in his hometown were ignorant of them. How fine it was to see that there were some youthful hobbits who could still sing and play an older song with ease. And... Tomlin knew a new verse, and Fallon knew of the old one.

"Yes," said Falco, "indeed there was another verse that ended the tale happily:

"And ever since he's got her, he vows that he'll keep her,
and now she's in the arms of her black chimney sweeper.


"I never sang it when I was a lad, though, and so I'm rather out of the habit. Fosco, that old friend of mine, and I started singing it to tease my sister, who was well nigh reaching old maidhood. Very good-humoured she was about it, too! Of course, singing we were singing it for that purpose we couldn't add on the last verse, because we didn't think she would be married. At first she just laughed with us and said: 'You teasing boys! If there weren't some old maids in the world who would help the poor mothers look after rapscallions like you?' But, after a few years of patiently enduring our 'serenading' to her, she began to laugh as if she were laughing at us, and say nothing. Fosco got suspicious very quick, and it wasn't very long before those suspicisions were justified... a hobbit came sweeping out of nowhere and married my sister!" Falco laughed and shook his head. "She had two children, and she's as happy as can be. But we didn't give the song up there, or add the last verse, stubborn boys that we were! I had a younger sister who had no lad courting her and seemingly no hopes of her (that was what we said, though she was still young and pretty), and so we sang to her. For years we sang, but she was married two years ago. In my fits of boyishness when I don't feel quite the aged hobbit I am, I stubbornly determine to find another old maid so I won't have to add that last verse."

A little hand laid on his knee and he looked down into Marigold's shining eyes.

"Oh, Mr. Headstrong, I liked that story," she said.

"Story? Why... why, I suppose it was a story," he admitted, "but I wasn't trying to tell it as one. That is to say... well, to be completely honest, young lads and lassies, I had quite a reputation for a story-teller in my younger days as well as a singer and whistler... nowadays I just tell a story as a story... in old days I would sit in front of the fire and look at all the young ones with gleaming eyes, and tell a story as a story."

It didn't make very much sense, perhaps, but Marigold understood. Her mother had been that way. She would talk with the neighbours about all the little happenings in the town, and it would all be very commonplace, but at night, when she tucked her little girl in, she would tell her a story as a story, one that sent thrills through the eager little listener. How wonderful it was that Mr. Headstrong could tell stories, too! And it was almost as wonderful that he was being so nice and kind and cheerful now. He didn't talk of how everyone was going to get drunk and other gloomy things like that. And he hadn't said 'no doubt' in such a very long time!

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Old 01-09-2005, 12:20 PM   #1231
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Primula Rose listened to the singing of the band with pleasure, her stubby feet keeping the beat of the lively rhythm. She would have liked to dance a merry jig to it, but her husband, Dob, was totally preoccupied with the food and seemed to ignore her restlessness.

From time to time, he turned towards her and make a remark about a particular dish:

"You should have some sausage stuffed mushroms, Primula Rose, they go down very well with the fine ale"

Or: "Don't trouble yourself with the blueberry pancake, I tried some and it isn't much to write home about."

"We should go talk to Vinca, and thank her for the invitation. That would polite of us. And I expect she would want to see me. You would have a chance to compliment her cooking then, Dob."

"Yes, I suppose, so. But later. I don't want to leave the table just yet. All that talking can wait, there'll be time enough for it." He lowered his voice to a whisper: "And I don't feel that comfortable with all the Big Folk and the Elves about, if you ask me. Not the best place for hobbits to be hanging around, if you get my meaning..."

"They look like very nice people", Primula Rose said, looking around.

In the mild light of the afternoon sun all the faces of the wedding guests seemed more gentle, more friendly. She caught the eye of a little hobbit lass and smiled at the look of wonder on her face. The girl shyly hid herself behind her mother, but then peeked out to examine Primula Rose more closely. Finding the older woman still looking at her, the lassie broke into a fit of giggles.
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Old 01-09-2005, 07:27 PM   #1232
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Buttercup and Marigold

Buttercup had just taken a large basket of flaky mushroom pasties out to the food table to refill the trays there. Ruby had come along with her with several platters of jam tarts for the dessert table that the ladies from New Row had brought over and left in the kitchen to be put out at need. Gooseberry jam, strawberry, blackberry, and currant all winked out invitingly from their crisp little shells. Buttercup stood for a moment at the table, surveying the swelling ranks of the party goers. Then, turning back to the table piled high with lovely offerings, decided it was time to change for the party. Others had come in to help, she concluded . . . so let them! Ruby, too had the same idea, and once the tarts were displayed to her satisfaction she made for the Inn and her party clothes.

Passing the jam tarts, Buttercup paused. It had been a long time since breakfast and so busy had she been that she could not recall having eaten since. Her stomach growled at the thought and she picked up four little tarts, popping one of them immediately into her mouth.

She broke into a smile as she passed where the musicians stood, and waved. She was looking forward very much to an evening of dancing and fun. An older Hobbit, she noted had joined them, a tin whistle held in one hand, and a half pint in the other. ‘Oh, and what’s this?’ she said to herself, catching sight of little Marigold, her golden mop still in tangles. She knelt down by the girl and offered her a plump tart.

‘Go ahead . . . they’re quite good! Just ate one myself,’ she confided. Wide-eyed at the choices, Marigold took one and began nibbling at it, Buttercup could just hear the muffled ‘thank-you’ come round the mouthful. ‘My stars, little one,’ she said as the girl stood up. ‘We have to get you into some party clothes.’ Buttercup flipped her food stained skirt a bit and tugged then at Marigold’s own mudstained one. ‘These simply won’t do . . . we’re guests now, and guest should be pretty.’

A distressed look appeared on the girl’s face, and she looked down a bit shamefaced. Buttercup tipped up her chin, saying there was no reason to fret. ‘There’s a great, large storage closet near my room, Miss Marigold. With many a chest filled with skirts and dresses of all sorts and sizes. Many left by guests who were in too much a hurry to check for things left behind.’ She fingered Marigold’s curls saying they’d get those in order, too. And would she like to bind it back a bit with one of Buttercup’s ribbons?

‘Let’s go then,’ she said, extending her hand to the little Hobbit. ‘You can choose a dress or a skirt and blouse, or whatever you like. Then we’ll hurry back and enjoy the rest of the day. How does that sound?’
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Old 01-09-2005, 08:16 PM   #1233
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Zimzi

‘Zimziran!’ exclaimed her mother softly as her daughter twirled one last time for her. The older woman clasped her hands in delight, her eyes gleaming. ‘Abar, come see your daughter!’

Adjusting the buttons on his tunic’s sleeves, Abar came in to the little bedroom, hastily turned sewing room. He was swearing a little, his thick fingers fumbling with the smallness of the button and the hole. His words were cut off as he looked up, an expression of wonder and love stealing over his features. ‘Oh, my!’ he said in a husky voice. Taking her hands in his, he turned her about slowly, his eyes taking in the sight of her. ‘Aren’t you just the lovely one today,’ he went on, giving her hand a little squeeze. With his other hand, he reached out for his wife and pulled her close. ‘As pretty as your mother when she pledged herself to me. Sand and water! How the circle comes round.’ He gave his wife a tight squeeze about the waist and Zimzi a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Now do a last thing for your old Da,’ he said to Zimzi, holding his undone cuffs to her. ‘Your mother and all her fine sewing has made it impossible to get these done up!’

Her brows arching, Zamin reached for her husband’s sleeves and did them quickly up herself. ‘I swear Zimzi, you marry a man and take care of the boy the rest of your life!’ Abar gave her a quick kiss before she could go on, as Zimzi laughed at this familiar scene.

‘Best get dressed myself, now,’ said Zamin, letting down her long dark hair flecked with silver, and rummaging through the wardrobe in her room for her own dress. ‘Abar, if you’re done dressing, go down and find the boys will you? Make sure they’re “behaving” themselves. And see to it that Azar has remembered to polish his boots.’ Her voice trailed off as she went into her own room to get ready.

‘I’ll see you down there, then, Zimzi,’ her father said, eager to get down the party. He’d seen the tables of food and the kegs with their foaming offerings through his window. He intended to make a thorough investigation of the Shire provender.

Zimzi stood in the now empty room, hearing the merry sounds of the guests in the yard below. She smoothed the bodice of her ivory gown and twirled the skirt a bit. It would be good for dancing, she thought hearing the music playing below. Taking one last look in the little mirror above the dressing table, she approved her hair, turning her head this way and that to see the mother-of-pearl clasp that held it back from her face, and the long cascade of her dark locks as they slid down her back. Her shoes were a fine, ivoried leather. Supple and plain. Picking up the light blue shawl her mother had woven, she arranged it casually over her shoulders, then thinking it would be too warm, draped it over one arm, intending to leave it somewhere handy should the evening prove cool.

With quick, light steps she headed down the stairs and through the Common Room, to the Inn’s front doors, which now stood open for easier flow. Buttercup was just passing through, a pretty little lass with her. ‘You look lovely, Mistress Zimzi!’ Buttercup called out, stopping to admire the woman and the dress. ‘Oh, and this is Miss Marigold,’ she went on, introducing the wide-eyed girl. ‘I’ll see you both at the party, yes,’ Zimzi said, nodding at the lass.

With the assurances of their attendance, Zimzi went on out to the porch. Shading her eyes with her hand she looked about for Derufin but could not see him . . .
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Old 01-10-2005, 03:37 AM   #1234
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Ginger had never spoken with the Mayor before, or any of his family for that matter. But he was the Mayor and she’d heard stories about him and the Baggins fellow . . . Frodo, it was, that he’d gardened for . . . unsettling stories of monsters and swords and a great long journey they’d taken together. It made her shiver when she thought of it, bringing up darksome memories of those awful ruffians who’d tried to take over the Shire when she was younger. She’d never really seen him up close and she wondered if he looked grim and, well . . . sort of odd from all his adventuring.

She was lagging behind Cook as they walked along and almost ran into her when Cook stopped suddenly, saying to someone in front of her, ‘Well there you are! And pleased as ever am I to see you and your fine family.’ Ginger peeked round Cook’s ample girth and saw two rather ordinary looking Hobbits smiling and talking with her. The fellow, who must be the Mayor from the way Cook talked to him, was red cheeked, a bit stout, and his eyes often strayed to his brood of handsome children but mostly to the pretty lady who stood by his side, a babe in her arms. This must be Rose, she thought to herself. She looked so kindly and so full of life that Ginger was quite taken by her.

The baby was fussing a bit and some of the other children were roughhousing with each other, despite the reminders of their mother to be on their best behavior. Without a second thought, Ginger stepped forward and gave a little curtsy. ‘I’ve brothers and sisters of my own, m’am,’ she said to Rose. ‘If you like I can take them over on the greensward there where there’s more room for play and we can have some fun.’ Cook introduced Ginger to Rose and to Sam, saying she had come to help with the preparations for the handfasting and had proven herself a right treasure. Rose introduced Elanor and Frodo lad to Ginger, and together they made a plan to get a platter of food and a pitcher of cold cider and some cups and take it over to the place Ginger had first pointed to. Ginger knew some games and stories to keep them occupied, and they would all be in easy sight of Sam and Rose.

As they walked away slowly, the littlest ones slowing down the pace, Ginger could just hear Cook cooing a bit as she reached for the baby. ‘My, my, pretty as her mama,’ she heard Cook say . . .
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Old 01-10-2005, 02:16 PM   #1235
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Old 01-10-2005, 04:59 PM   #1236
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Marigold skipped along hand in hand with Buttercup, and she envisioned herself all dressed for the party. She would wear a silk skirt and a blouse embroidered with golden thread. Her golden hair would be combed till it shone, and pretty ribbons tied in that streamed down to the very end of her hair. There would be a crown of flowers atop her little head, and a little bunch in her hand, and she would look just like a queen. She knew quite well she would find no silk skirts and embroidered blouses, but it was great fun to imagine it. And maybe she would have streaming ribbons and flowers.

When Buttercup opened the chest Marigold promptly knelt and began rummaging through, her eyes dancing and eager. When she found something that was her size, she would gaze at it thoughtfully, turning it over in her hands, then she would discard or take them, as she willed. A pretty little blue skirt with flounces was chosen; a white blouse with lace at the cuffs and neck; and a sash of a lovely shade of gold.

"See, Miss Buttercup," she said, beaming, "this what I've chosen. I'll wear this skirt... my mamma always said I should wear blue, because it's so pretty with my eyes and hair. And then this blouse with the lovely lace. And this golden sash I'll tie around my waist. It matches my hair very well, don't you think?" And suddenly her eyes grew soft. "And, Miss Buttercup, do you have any lilacs in the garden? After you fix up my hair, I'd like to put lilacs in. My mother's name was Lilac, you know, and she always used to wear lilacs in her hair. I want to wear them today, because it's a hand-fasting, and if there had been no hand-fastings ever, there would have been no me."
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Old 01-10-2005, 07:58 PM   #1237
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Silmaril Uien and Falowik

Uien was about to enter the inn's Common Room when through the door stepped Zimzi, who shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked for someone - likely her groom. A smile spread quickly across Uien's face.

"Zimzi! I give you good greeting!"

Zimzi's face lit up, but not without a hint of confusion as her eyes adjusted. Then Uien came close and Zimzi's eyes registered her delight.

"Uien of Lorien! You have come for our handfasting? I'm so glad!" They threw their arms around each other and embraced. Then Zimzi caught Uien's shoulders in both hands and held her, looking intently into her eyes. "Surely it was by chance that you came to Bywater today!"

"I heard that it was to be your handfasting day and hurried from Rivendell, faster than poor Falowik cared to go. We came in just this morning. You look like the queen you should today!" She kissed Zimzi's cheek. "This is a joyous day! I am happy for you!"

"Thank you. But how did you hear? Is my handfasting such news that they speak of it as far as Rivendell?"

Uien laughed. "Nay. The Elves do not concern themselves with the affairs of Men or Hobbits, except for the few of us who will. As do I. It happened that I cast my thought this way and an Elf whom I know not, was here, and knew what would pass this day, and so I learned and came."

"Then I am glad that Elf was here. Who was it, so I may speak my thanks?"

Uien shook her head. "I know not, but it matters not. I have found you!" Zimzi laughed. "But I have a boon to ask of you, dear Zimzi. I have already asked it of Derufin, and he obliged me." She held up Derufin's hair for Zimzi's inspection, and Zimzi's eyes went wide. "I need the same from you. Fear not, 'twill not hurt in the least, nor mar your beauty. May I?"

"Of course! But why?"

"That you shall see soon enough." Uien's eyes remained lidded with her secret, her grin reassuring nonetheless.

"Cut away then, sweet Uien."

"Nay. I shall pluck most gently. Fin tulolain othond." Next moment, Uien held ten strands of Zimzi's hair before the bride's face.

"I felt nothing!"

"Of course not. Now I must return to my Laurëatan with my prize." Uien kissed her once more and was about to walk away but turned at the last moment. "Derufin is over there." She pointed to a small crowd not far from them.

"My thanks!" said Zimzi, who moved with the grace of a queen for a day to the crowd surrounding her groom.

Uien smiled and found Falowik, and they returned to the stables.
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Old 01-10-2005, 08:26 PM   #1238
THE Ka
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Post for Rasputina

Rasputina got up after finishing her sandwich, a food which she found interesting. Even though, the thought of being stolen from lurked with her everywhere. Somehow, or someway, she felt for a song of her own. She knew the words, but not were it came from. Maybe it drifted up from the sea and wispered it to her on the cliff those many years ago. She loved the way her cello sang as it acompanied her on the song. It wasn't a light and cheery song, but was steeped in mystery and woe but, was interesting to the ears none the less. Picking up her cello, she found a chair and tuned herself and her cello. While others bussled about with this and that, rasputina began to eerily sing:

Dig Ophelia, consider it dug.
Flowers madness and soft bear rug
Here's the water, just ankle deep high.
Lay back and relax and look up at the sky.
Your eyes never close, your mind's not at
rest,
Lay back, get waterlogged
Give us a kiss.

Water spreads the small seed
Water kills the tall weed.
Ophelia.

Cut the stem and you'll see how you feel
Floating orchids just ain't no big deal
Never knowing's like knowing too much
Tap the table, oh here's more bad luck.

Your eyes never close, your mind's not at
rest,
Lay back, get waterlogged
Give us a kiss.

Water spreads the small seed,
Water kills the tall weed.
Ophelia.

Ophelia.


Her cello softly but boldly grew and faded with every note, following a pattern of a phrase, until the song ended. She gave a long sigh. The song was far from cheering anyone up, but it was beautiful to her. She felt somewhat better after the thought of theft, which was scared away for the time being. Since there seemed to be nothing else to do, Rasputina just went on to play a few more pieces, the cello singing in its low hum. It was so beautiful, If she would ever have to trave across the sea,

"let it be with this cello.", she thought. As more and more guest finally assembled on the hill, rasputina continued to play, off in her own world...
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í endaleysu tokuni?

Last edited by THE Ka; 01-10-2005 at 08:29 PM.
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Old 01-10-2005, 11:52 PM   #1239
Tevildo
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Tevildo has just left Hobbiton.
The Eye Tevildo and Mushroom

Tevildo made his way about the Common Room on silent velvet paws, at first being very careful to avoid the wicker basket that the golden haired hobbit lass clutched tightly on her lap. He could barely see the small pick nose of the grey tabby poking out above the woolen blanket. Everyone in the room seemed to be making quite a fuss about Mushroom's two-leggeds, particularly the stout fellow whom they greeted as the "Mayor". Tevildo had no idea why this should be so, but he had observed that two-leggeds could be overly friendly even with people they barely knew.

His own kind, he noted, were a much better judge of character. Tevildo would never lower his dignity to fawn on strangers or to act in an unduly friendly fashion even towards those who knew him. Still, in this particular case, it would probably be better if he attempted to straighten things out with Mushroom. From the adoring look on the face of the Dragon's old tabby when Mushroom had entered the room, it was apparent that the Gamgee cat was likewise regarded as a local celebrity. There was no accounting for taste!

But what could he do to win the favor of a tough old barn cat who obviously considered him an unwanted outsider? It was then that he saw it: the table that had sat in the courtyard. The hobbits had now moved it inside the Common Room. Such wonderful legs for scratching, he mused, as a pur escaped from his chest. With a sharp meow to the grey, and a nod of the head that gave just a hint of an apology for the events of the evening before, Tevildo pointed Mushroom towards the table, assuring her that "The Table" was a quite amazing scratching post and totally free for the asking...
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Last edited by Tevildo; 01-10-2005 at 11:55 PM.
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Old 01-11-2005, 02:36 AM   #1240
piosenniel
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1420!

GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS:

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.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

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 (played by Envinyatar)

Meriadoc - Stablemaster

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

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.

_____________________________________________

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.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

Last edited by piosenniel; 01-11-2005 at 02:43 AM.
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