The Green Dragon Inn - Part 10

[Child of the 7th Age]

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.

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Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

Fredgar Hornblower – local Shiriff from Hobbiton – played by Fool of a Took
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Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn.

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.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.
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IT IS NOW MID AFTERNOON. THE WEATHER IS PLEASANT.

THE INN IS ALLL BACK TOGETHER AFTER THE FIRE. PLANS ARE BEING MADE FOR A REOPENING PARTY.

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Party Planning Note:

Please include the party preparations in your posts for the next few days as the placard below suggests. All party preparations will hopefully be completed by late Thursday afternoon (real time), March 18, at which time I will move the Inn forward to the evening and the party will begin.

Cami Goodchild, Shire Mod (Child of the 7th Age)

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Hawthorne's placard:

VOLUNTEERS NEEDED

Time is fleeting! The Green Dragon would appreciate your help in preparing the Inn for the party. Please consider helping with any of these chores.
[list=1][*]Prepare your favorite dish to share with other partygoers.[*]Help arrange the tables, set out the flowers, and string up a welcoming banner at the entrance to the Dragon.[*]Replant the seedlings in the Inn's rear courtyard.[*]Mosts important of all, bring out your fiddles, flutes and other instruments to get ready for the party.[/list=1]

[Silent Sam]

Pippin and her cousin Merry surveyed the goings on of the inn with great intrest. They were both named after two of the four hobbits who had disappeared on a strange journey, those many years ago. Being still in their early tweens, as soon as they had caught word of there being a party, each had come as fast as thier hobbit feet could carry them.

Pippin's auburn curls fell into her eyes, drawing glances of her hobbit-boy clothes she was accustomed to wearing rather than traditional dresses. This made some of the elders scowl at her for not being a proper young girl, but she never noticed, or perhaps never cared. She wandered about the crowds looking for cousin, greeting people as they passed, and occasionally having to jump out of the way of the busy servers.

Merry wandered along the food-laden tables, every dish looking more tantilizing than the one prior. He reached out for a particularly large apple, and recived a light tap on the hand from one of the older hobbits.

"Here now lad, shouldn't y'be sayin' 'hello' to some of the others before you go straight to the sweets?"

"Hello" Merry replied, grinning.

The old hobbit shook his head, and disappeared into the crowd leaving Merry to snatch up his sighted prize...

[Galadel Vinorel]

A silver bell could be heard ringing across the yard. Smiling to herself, Galadel hurried dressing and pulled her worn, brown cloak on. She slipped her hood over her head, and tied a soft, silver case to the golden belt that graced her slender hips. Leaving the small tent that she had been given to change in for the party, she smooothly walked across the yard towards the main building of the Green Dragon Inn.

The elf entered the main hall of the remodled inn. Inside were gathered a variety of folks, all laughing and drinking, and having a splended time celebrating after their long labor. Galadel smiled and nodded to a young hobbit lass that came up to her and asked very politely if she could take her cloak. Unhooking the clasp near her neck, the cloak fell from her as she caught it in her arms to reveal the dress that elf woman was now wearing. It was a very simple, silver dress, with only a golden belt around her waist, and a thin line of gold emboridered in the shape of an ivy vine at the heam and sleeves. At her side hung a silver case, and upon her feet she wore slender silver shoes.

As the hobbit lass moved away to tend to the other gathering guests, Galadel drifted towards the fire. She stood there for a short time, warming herself, one of her hands constintanly fingering the silver case at her side. Finally, after a few more partygoers had entered the main room, Galadel pulled her flute from the case at her side. It was a wooden flute, with the shapes of animals and other forms of nature engraved in gold and silver on its sides. The beautiful instrument had been made from the wood of one of the trees of Lothlorien by her older brother, and was very special to her.

Turning around, the elf spotted Snaveling and some of her other new friends entering or gathered there in the room. Nodding to the man, Galadel brought the flute up to her mouth, and quickly choose a piece to play. And then she began to play. The soft, gentle music of the flute floated in the air, and as she played people gradually became silent to turn and listen to the music.

Yet, Galadel did not notice the many faces staring at her, for she was lost in the gentle lullaby that she played. She poured everything that she was into that piece, expanding it, making it longer, and yet structured so that it stood on its own, unaccompanied, and yet was whole. Suddenly Snaveling stood forward from where he had been standing next to Tobias. Looking at him, the elf nodded and, never missing a note, changed her melody. And then the man of the South began to sing.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

All day Snaveling had avoided Roa by helping replant the herb garden with slips of plants donated to the Inn by a well-to-do hobbit. Many of the herbs he was familiar with, but some were unknown to him. The Kingsfoil had been a welcome surprise and he had lingered long over its glorious odour. Many a night he had comforted himself with a highly-scented tea made of the herb, according to a recipe long known and cherished by his people. Eventually, the shadows had lengthened and the sky had decorated herself with stars, and the workers outside had gone off to prepare themselves for the party. Snaveling had retired to his makeshift bed in the stables – the Innkeeper had offered him a room in the remade Inn, but he preferred the privacy of his stall – and made himself as ready as he could. There was not much he could do, given he was already wearing all the clothes that he owned. Still, he had been able to give himself a good scrubbing with the help of a handful of hay and a bucket of water, and he had sharpened his knife to shave off the scraggly black beard that hung from his face like moss. There wasn’t much that he could do with his clothes, but he dusted off the muck as best he could and did up all the ties and buttons. The last thing he did, almost as an afterthought, was to take the small amulet from beneath his tunic where all could see it.

He entered the Inn with trepidation and anticipation. What met his eyes staggered him; having spent the better part of his life alone and in the wild, the plenty that awaited him within the common room was at the limits of imagination. Tables groaned with food, and were decorated with huge bunches of fresh flowers. Garlands hung from the walls and ceiling rafters, and a large fire blazed in the hearth, filling the room with warmth. Candles and lanterns added to the light, to the point where there was no shadow upon the evening. The Room was already filled with gaily dressed people, and there was music and talk and laughter from all directions. Snaveling paused for a moment on the very threshold, ready to flee should the crowd take notice of him and realize that he did not belong. But then his eye fell on Roa where she stood chatting gaily, and he stepped forward into the warm embrace of the party.

He stood in a corner, his eyes on the Woman and his heart in turmoil. He did not know what to think of his vision: ever had the woman in his dreams been a faceless person, defined solely by the comfort that she would provide him. She had been as much a feature of his lodge as was the carved front door and the bench of hewn logs at the eastern wing where he could clean his kill. But now she was a person, and one who was far more than a domestic drudge. He wanted to have Roa with him in the lodge just to be with her. The idea of actually wanting to share his life with another was so new to him that he hardly knew how to approach it – all he knew for sure was that Roa was altogether admirable and entirely beyond his reach. Recognizing this gave him an intense pain in his guts that was not altogether unpleasant.

He was drawn from his reverie by a music that felt like sunshine in autumn, and he looked about for the source of it. Galadel stood by the fire playing a tune on a little flute. The melody spoke deep to his hear, and like all Elvish music it took on a form that he saw. Green fields opened before him, and the cry of seabirds rang out. For a moment, he even felt that he could smell the slight tang of saltwater. Galadel altered the tune and looked at him. Seized by the music, Snaveling stepped forward and put the vision into words:

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river;
Nowhere by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

But here will sigh thine alder tree,
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.

A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

It was an old song, one that he had not heard sung since he left his homeland, and singing it took him back to much happier times in his life: times when he enjoyed the company of others and looked to them to provide the kind of solace that the lonely spirit was unable to bring itself. He looked about him, and was terrified to see the many faces of the guests openly staring at him – some in amusement, some (those who had knowledge of him) in open shock. Roa’s eyes were, however, perhaps the widest. He looked at her and, made bold – or driven mad – by the music, he sang again:

All things uncomely and broken,
all things worn-out and old,
The cry of a child by the roadway,
the creak of a lumbering cart,

The heavy steps of the ploughman,
splashing the wintry mould,
Are wronging your image that blossoms
a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things
is a wrong too great to be told,
I hunger to build them anew
and sit on a green knoll apart,

With the earth and the sky and the water,
remade, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms
a rose in the deeps of my heart.

He fell silent, as did Galadel’s flute. Snaveling slumped into a chair, his heart pounding in his ears, and called for ale.

[astarielle]

The door banged open whith a loud 'thump'. The floor boards creaked as a black boot stepped into the light of the in, quickly followed by another but with a hole in the end. The owner of the boots was that of Astarielle, an Elf from the woodland realm. She had been gone from the area for many a month on end and slowly walked, half limped, into the inn. Her travelling cloak was smothered with what can only be described as muck, go any further than that and you probably wouldn't want to know. In be frank the only part of her which was not absolutely filthy was her eyes, they still shone with the radiance of a thousand stars.

She closed the door silently, quite contrary to her entrance, and made her way to a comfy corner. She sat down as if she had not in weeks, which was probably quite true. Her travels had taken her near and far, over land,water and moutains to places rarely seen. Through snow, hail and driving rain with no thought for what she had left behind, just this moment in time. Now she returned to the place she left long ago to recuperate before setting of on another adventure with old friends as well as new.

She sang to herself, an old elven tune sung to children, those leaving and those returning;

It is a long road,
Winding ever onwards,
Never ceasing for the weary
Or those that dwell on the past.

You know where your feet have trodden
but have know idea where your next step will take you.
Walk on, walk on, with joy in your heart
Embrace life, unending
For you carry the hopes of us all
Our child.

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa was dressed in a simple country dress another guest had lent her. All she had brought with her was a single change of clothes, and they were a traveler's fare to be certain. Usually, she did not concern herself with such things, unless appearing in court. This, however, was a truly special occasion, for the fruit of their long labors was being celebrated. Roa also new that two sets of clothing would not do for much longer. I shall have to see to some purchases...

Roa was not in a particularly festive mood, but soon the atmosphere of the room gathered her in it's embrace, and she relaxed a little. She was quickly swept into a lively conversation. Some asked her for news of the outer world, and she in turned inquired about local business, a topic she had not been able to discuss till now. She quited a little when Galadel began to play. Elven music was a treat to her, despite it's familiarity. Did not her Queen bless the land with her gracious prescence?

She stopped talking all together, though, when Snaveling began to sing. She could not even hide her surprise. He looked at her while he sang. For a moment, the gaze made her question her own actions, but her memories were still fresh. Roa let her face harden, and she quickly turned away. The song ended, she her him call for ail, and she busied herself again in conversation. A hand on her shoulder with drew her. Turning to see Galadel, she excused herself.

"Youu must be tired," she the elf-woman. "Why don't you help yourself to the food?" Roa smiled and obliged her friend. They found a table together and sat down to talking. Galadel was quickly driven to a fit of luaghter from Roa's antics. Roa herself new that her friend would only play along for a short while. Then, she would address the ice that had encased itself over Roa's heart.

[Kransha]

Tobias Hornblower wandered through the raucous din, wading past folk of every age and size as if they represented some dense ocean to be forged with haste. He held onto the small tin mug clutched firmly in his hand with all his might, but could not stop the overflowing froth to splash out onto the unwary backs of some hapless inn-goers, though they didn’t seem to notice at all. The hobbit wore his finest and was acting in the most polite manner he could. Having abandoned the gaudy sequined vest that had been singed beyond repair that day which seemed so long ago, he wore his brightest, flashiest outfit and his warmest demeanor.

He heard countless noises, mugs clicking together noisily, the endless buzz and chatter of conversation, and, from the darker corner of the room, a smooth but stern melody. The elder gentlehobbit heard a cry for ale ring from nearby, and a fervent one at that. He normally would’ve ignored the plea, but he knew who it came from. It was Snaveling’s voice undoubtedly. Toby suddenly realized that the melodic tune that had just coursed through his ears was Snaveling’s, though the man’s course voice had been strangely altered for the better as he sung. 'Strange indeed.' thought the hobbit as he scurried to Snaveling.

“Here you are. It was you who called out for ale, was it not?” he chuckled.

Snaveling wrenched the brimming mug from Toby and imbibed most of its contents in an instant. After a great quaff, he lowered the vessel and nodded to the hobbit, seeming gratified enough to please Toby.

“Master Sna- I mean Snaveling…that was indeed a memorable piece of work. I am, for once, chagrined that I know not the ways of outsiders. The only songs I can sing are the more jovial tunes of the Shire, and they are naught compared to that. I suppose I can sin as well as the next hobbit, but you would not desire to hear my rambling tunes. You have more talent in song than I had thought, Snaveling.”

Snaveling nodded but Tobias could barely tell since most of his face was hidden by the mug again.

“Did I not tell you that you would do well to stay for this gala event? I promise you, my friend, by the end of this night we will all be a great deal happier. We will each pay our debts to this place for bringing us together. You have your way…and I most certainly have mine.”

Toby muffled another laugh as he patted his bulging vest pocket meaningfully and turned to the crowd.

[Crystal Heart]

Bartholomew-Arthur's brother

He hurried into the Inn. He had heard a rumor that his brother's girlfriend now resided here. His eyes scanned the room quickly. He spotted her. A beacon of a memory that shone through the crowded room. He pushed his way through until he stood in front of her.

"Miss Crystal Heart! I am so glad I found you! I bring great news. Your father was ambushed and killed twenty kilometers out of Rohan! My men took him down. He was riding without an escort. See! You must believe. I have his precious sword!" He said excitedly. He held out the sword, no longer shethed.

Crystal's eyes studied it. She held it in her hands. Slowly her face came to realization and burst into a smile. A smile he hadn't seen in years.

"Bartholomew! Do you know what this means?!" Crystal exclaimed. He nodded. Yes, he understood. The killer of his brother had been killed. Vengence had been his. It also meant that Crystal Heart could safely return to Rohan and live her life in peace.

"You can come home Miss Crystal. Isn't that wonderful!" He smiled, but saw that her eyes didn't hold the same joy.

"The Shire is my home, Bartholomew. I shan't be returning to Rohan," Crystal informed him softly. He stood back, shocked. This place was nothing compared to Rohan. She would be looked at differently because she wasn't a hobbit. Who would she stay with? Who would even look after her?

"You can't be serious, Miss Crystal?" He asked in surprise. She nodded her head and turned away. She held her hand out to a hobbit that stood near her.

"Bartholomew, this is Angry Brandybuck. Angry, this is my good friend Bartholomew," Crystal said. Bartholomew bowed his head in respect. It had been years since Arty's death. He never figured that she would move on to another love. And that was what Angry Brandybuck was, another love. He looked into her eyes and he knew that she loved Angry with all of her strength. He hadn't seen her this happy since before Arty's death. He was happy for her, but sad at the same time. Yet, it had been Arty's one wish. He had wanted her to continue on if he had died. He had confinde that in him.

"It is wonderful to meet you, Mr. Angry Brandybuck. I am sorry that you will not be returning to Rohan. Who knows, you might marry the hobbit and I'll return to see you. Make sure you tell me if that ever does happen. I wish you the best of luck," He said as he started away.

"Wait, won't you stay and celebrate. The Inn burnt down a couple of weeks back and we helped build it again. You and I could celebrate the death of my father," Crystal said. He shook his head.

"I'm needed with my men. Good bye Miss Crystal."

"Good bye Bartholomew."

Bartholomew left the happy Inn, feeling as if Crystal had made the correct choice. He hoped she was happy and would await the day when she sent message of her upcoming marriage.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

As always, it was Toby who knew what Snaveling really needed. The ale coursed through the Man’s blood and cooled the fires of self-pity and rage that coursed through him. What in the world was I thinking? he railed inwardly. And what is it about Galadel that gives her such power over me? His eyes strayed toward Roa where she sat with the Elven woman. Her reaction could not have been more dismissive nor so clear of her opinion. Snaveling was torn between relief and anger. He did not know what he had hoped for or wanted with his song, but whatever it had been he had not received it.

“Did I not tell you that you would do well to stay for this gala event?” Toby was saying, “I promise you, my friend, by the end of this night we will all be a great deal happier. We will each pay our debts to this place for bringing us together. You have your way…and I most certainly have mine.” Toby muffled another laugh as he patted his bulging vest pocket meaningfully.

“What do you mean?” Snaveling asked, intrigued by the hobbit’s manner in spite of his distracted feelings.

Toby merely winked at him, saying “All in good time.” Toby turned away to look over the crowd as a hobbit lass stepped up and spoke to him. Snaveling was in no mood for idle chatter; at the moment, even a brief conversation with his friend was beyond him. Scowling at the entire room, he drained the last of his ale and slipped away from the table. He moved along the walls to where the Innkeeper was standing. He had, of course, seen much of Aman in his weeks at the Inn, but he had avoided all but the most necessary conversation with her. He did not trust the Men of Gondor, but he despised the people of Rohan. As his own people’s nearest neighbours, they were the outsiders with whom they most often came into conflict.

Aman was talking with an especially large fellow – for a hobbit – who appeared to be someone of importance in the Shire. As Snaveling neared them both, they turned and the hobbit looked at him with open suspicion. Aman, however, courteously – if not with great warmth – asked if there were something she could do for him. Snaveling returned the hobbit’s glare before answering the woman. “Is there naught but ale and wine in this place?” he asked. “I feel the need of something much stronger!”

[Kransha]

Toby was distracted from Snaveling’s next statement by a polite female voice behind him. He spun around to face the voice’s source, not entirely ready to be addressed by anyone, but quickly regained his composure and noble demeanor. He quickly assessed the girl in front of him, looking her over from head to toe with his keenly focused hazel eyes, now half-closed and squinting as the mixed light of the inn played upon them.

“Mirabell Baggins.” said the hobbit lass as she curtsied, “Would you like to have a chat with me?”

Toby smiled warmly as thoughts began coursing again through his mind. ’A Baggins, eh? Probably one of my cousins or some distant relation. Well, no matter, she seems to be polite enough and it would do me good to talk to someone besides Snaveling. As friendly as he has become, that man just can’t have a good conversation for an extended period of time.’

“Tobias Hornblower the Third, madam,” replied the elder hobbit as he bowed, executing one of his signature dignified flourishes as he did so, “If a conversation is what you desire, I would certainly not mind obliging you.” He sat down on one of the recently vacated chairs before someone else could get to it and reclined, sighing happily. The atmosphere had elevated his mood greatly and he found that he was much more inclined to start a friendly dialogue with this stranger. He leaned forward in the chair and blinked.

“So…what is it you would like to discuss, exactly?” he queried pleasantly.

[Witch_Queen]

Aduthondiel
She was startled at the news she had heard. Could her great General Dorian actually be dead? In her heart she wanted to cry for his loss but couldn't in front of Crystal. She didn't have to leave after all, Count was going to be her's for as long as they both lived. "Crystal this is good news, but I am sorry to hear about your father." Aduthondiel wanted to say he was a good man but knew in her heart that he was only an evil tyrant. "Crystal now what are you going to do with your life?" She knew she should be asking herself the same question.

What am I going to do now that Dorian is dead? Will I stay here to watch everyone around me succomb to death while I live forever? Aduthondiel was already thinking about how life would be without Dorian around to haunt her every dream. Aduthondiel had an idea of what Crystal would probably do. Crystal would probably go on with her life and marry Mr. Angry. "I guess I don't have to leave after all. Though I can't think of any reason to stay. I have no one here. All my family.. well I'm not sure where they are now." For her age she knew that everything in her past affected what was in her future. She had to change what she was going to do if she wanted to have a happy life.

She tried to recover from the news but couldn't. Crystal seemed so happy now. Yet all she could feel was a sadness deep down. No matter how hard she tried the feeling didn't want to go away. She thought she felt a tear roll down her cheek but decided it was only her mind playing tricks on her. "I guess all our troubles have come to an end. Perhaps if I return to Rohan I will make it in time to see who your father successor will be. If I'm lucky maybe Aduthondiel will be the new General! Wouldn't that be nice." She thought she was going to fall down laughing but couldn't. She let out a giggle and went on drinking her ale. "General Aduthondiel. Has sort of a ring to it."

[Feared Half-Elf]

Elkamia stood in the stables, one hand on the nose of her large silver mare. Annufin had finally been moved inside. 'Valar help me' she thought 'I haven't worn a dress since the wedding of Elessar and Arwen.' She glanced down at herself.

The white dress she wore was simple but elegant, with long flowing sleeves. She didn't need a belt with it, strictly speaking, but she wore one anyway, a long scarf of fine silver fabric. White slippers were on her feet, though she would have preferred something sturdier. Her long brown hair was brushed to a shine, and careflly braided in the style she usually wore to keep it out of her eyes.

She sighed, fingering the silver chain about her right wrist. She always had been one for fights and wars, tending to avoid parties whenever possible. 'I can't avoid it tonight. I've helped them rebuild the inn and I can't offend the people here by not coming to the party. And a party means a dress, however much I hate it.'

She took a deep breath, checked her clothes for loose hay collected in the stables, and went to the common room. The room was a bundle of noise, people laughed and joked to each other. Still nervous about wearing the dress, she looked around at the people in the party, seeing if there was anyone she recognised.

[Esgallhugwen]

Aldor smoothed out the creases on his tunic and took a look at the Green Dragon Inn, the cool breeze swam through the lighted lanterns and the banner welcoming all to join the festivities. "See, Miss Peony, all our hard work paid off after all" he winked and led her inside like a true gentleman.

"Now before you take your seat, we must have at least one dance to ensure you'll sleep the night away with sweet dreams swimming in your head", Peony tried to protest at first but gave in "alright Aldor but only one dance, after that we should take it easy and relax" she smiled and her green eyes glistened like emeralds in the lamplight.

"Believe me miss you can have have just one dance!" he took her hand as a folk song started up, they danced among the bustling crowd as more people came into the new Inn and to pay there respects to Master Meriadoc for attending the joyous occasion.