The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Noinkling]

Tolly’s head was bent well over his bowl as he sopped the last bit of gravy from it with a chunk of bread. So intent was he on getting the final splotch of savory stew cleaned up that he did not notice the approach of another server. The shadow of an arm fell across his vision and a hand holding a bowl of sweet and cinnamon delight placed the tasty offering before him. ‘Ah!’ he said, glancing up with a toothy grin. ‘Dessert!’

He rubbed his hands together in happy anticipation and drew the bowl toward him, glancing up expectantly at the pitcher of clotted cream the server held in her hands. A new server, he noted. Bit long in the tooth for this sort of work, he thought, wondering what circumstances had brought her to work at the Inn. He smiled again at her. ‘Might I have a measure of cream, miss?’ he asked, pushing the bowl toward her.

The server poured a generous dollop onto the flaky, sugared crust of the apple cobbler. Tolly tucked into it with his spoon, shoveling a large bite into his mouth. He nodded at the taste and texture of the concoction, grinning widely around it as he chewed and swallowed. ‘Oh my, this is wonderful! My compliments to your cook, once again, miss!’ he said, looking up into the amused face of the server.

[Arry]

Two voices warred in Ferdy’s head as he moved about the tables pouring cider for the Inn’s thirsty guests. He’d seen Ginger talking to one of the Big Folk who’d come into the common room and now stood at the bar. She looked so small in comparison to the rough-voiced man, he thought. He wanted to interrupt them . . . to shield her from the stranger. About to step toward them, his other voice halted the forward progress of his foot, chiding him.

‘Interrupt’! Pah, you dunderhead! Barge in’s more like it, isn’t it? His cheeks crimsoned slightly at the admonition he’d given himself. And besides, she’s no wilting flower to need you standing over her night and day. She’ll think you a great ninny for butting in while she’s about her job.

‘Watch it, lad!’ came the loud voice of one of the Hobbits who’d held out his mug to be filled. Lost in thought, his eyes on Ginger and not on his own task, Ferdy had filled the fellow’s cup to the brim and now it poured over and onto the table. ‘You’ve got my breeches wet!’ cried the Hobbit, taking the pitcher from Ferdy’s hands. He stood up from his chair, knocking it over in his haste and began blotting at the sticky cider with his napkin.

Ferdy stood gawping at the now angry Hobbit, his ears burning a bright red as all in the Inn turned to look at the hubbub.

[Firefoot]

Lily tried not to appear too elated at Posco's invitation. She would like to meet his parents, of course, but more than that, it would be extra time to spend with him. She knew that she had been procrastinating her inevitable return to Bree throughout the afternoon bit by little bit, but she didn't care.

"I would like to visit your home very much," she replied. "I can't wait to see it, and to meet your parents." Exciting as it was, the prospect of meeting his parents so soon made her a tad nervous - what if they didn't like her, or approve? Nothing that Posco had said led her to believe that they wouldn't, but there was still a possibility. Perhaps the only reason she entertained the thought was her recent doubt that her own aunt and uncle might wish for her to marry Tommy Banks and thereby not approve of Posco. She kept telling herself they wouldn't mind, but in truth she was still trying to persuade herself.

"I'm sure my parents will be happy to meet you," said Posco, as if sensing her doubts.

"I hope so..." she trailed off. Of course they would.

She took another sip of her stew, watching him from under her eyelashes. He was not so surreptitious, openly watching her with tenderness in his eyes. She could not help but treasure the look, and everything about him. What more could she hope for?

Something occurred to her. "Posco, is there anything in particular that I should know before I meet your parents? Anything I should do?" she queried. It certainly wouldn't do for her to get into their bad graces from the start from ignorance.

Anunsew seated comfortably on his chair as Ginger brought him food. He tore a large piece of bread, dipped it on his stew and ate. He was busy munching by himself that he didn't hear what Ginger was asking. When he saw her waiting, he waved her off and said, "No, I don't need anything else, thanks ma'am"

When he finished his meal, a maid took it to the kitchen for washing and mumbled something to herself which Anunsew didn't catch.

Anunsew again fell to his habit of thinking to himself. Come to think of it, he thought, I seldom talk to any body. He sighed and mumbled to himself "I think I'll stay for a few days."

[Primrose Bolger]

‘My goodness!’ thought Ginger, shaking her head in wonder at the man she’d just brought supper to. ‘He’s a bit rough-hewn!’ The only big Folk she’d really gotten to know were Miz Aman and Mister Derufin. Now Miz Aman was quite friendly, really, and easy to be with. And Mister Derufin, well, he was more like a long legged Hobbit. She tucked away her encounter with the fellow for future reference.

She had just stopped to clean off a vacated table when a loud voice caught her attention. Her head turned round in time to see an angry Hobbit, chair tipped over on the floor, glaring at Ferdy across the room. Grabbing some dry towels from the bar, she ran to see how she could help.

‘Here, now,’ she said, running to stand between Ferdy and the red-faced customer. ‘Dry yourself up a bit,’ she said, handing the wet Hobbit a towel. ‘Then come with me, sir. Cook’ll get you fixed up right quick, I’m sure. Go on, now. I’ll follow right after,’ she urged him.

Ginger handed Ferdy the rest of the towels. ‘Best clean up here, before Cook wonders why you’re wasting her good cider,’ she said. ‘The mop’s just inside the kitchen door.’ She tapped her toe on the floor where the cider had splattered. ‘Bit sticky!’ She gave him a little smile before turning to follow the wet Hobbit into the kitchen.

[piosenniel]

Tolly’s expression changed from one of delighted thanks to one of confusion. Cook had begun to laugh, first at his mistaking her for one of the servers, and second for calling her ‘Miss’. ‘I’d be delighted,’ she said stifling back another chortle, ‘to extend your compliments to the cook.’ She poured him a bit more cream for his cobbler. ‘Enjoy your dessert, lad. And there’s plenty more where that came from.’

She walked slowly back to the kitchen, her shoulders shaking with quiet laughter at the situation. Pausing to take a critical look at herself as she passed the shiny bottomed baking pan hung on a peg on the kitchen’s wall, Cook turned her head this way and that. She pushed pack a few stray curls, a bit of grey threading through them, and smiled widely, noting now the collection of crinkles at the corners of her eyes had gotten more pronounced. Cook polished the erstwhile mirror with the elbow of her sweater, and peered in once more.

‘Not bad, Miz Bunce,’ she said in approval. ‘The years have been generous. There’s an adventure or two left in you!’

The cat on the hearth winked up in agreement before settling back to sleep.

~*~

Ruby came by with a pitcher of cider to top off Tolly’s mug. ‘Now isn’t that something,’ she mentioned in passing, as Cook passed through the kitchen’s doors, laughing still. ‘You must have told her some funny joke to set her off like that.’ He raised his brows at her comment. Ruby pointed toward Cook’s retreating back. ‘Her,’ she confirmed. ‘Cook.’

[Lalwendë]

He had done it to her again, driven everyone away. Jinniver felt hot tears rise up in her eyes; she could hold them back no longer. She put the corner of her shawl to her face to catch the tears as they started to run down her nose. Hunched up, she tried to avoid the angry stare of her brother.

Pegram softened as soon as he saw his sister’s tears. He had won. He reached for the jug of stout and poured himself a large tankard full. He did not pass it down the table towards her.

She didn’t want it anyway. “Why do you do it?” she said in a quiet voice, not looking at him, but studying the wall instead. “These are my friends. They are good people. Why do you have to be so…horrible?” She finally turned to face him, her face red with tears of frustration.

He did not answer straight away. He was choosing his words carefully; now he had won, he didn‘t want to set himself back again. “You know why,” he said, softly, with a small and hopeful smile. “I care for my sister. After. You know what after. There are still bad people out there, Jinniver. Bad creatures.“ He emphasised this last word. “You can only trust your own people, you know this.”

She may have finally burst into the tears which had threatened, but inside, Jinniver was not beaten, not this time. The tears were for the thought of the upset her brother had caused to her new friends. She felt their hurt, and what was more, she felt ashamed of her own brother. Coming to The Shire had helped her lose all her nervousness, and she found herself laughing more than dwelling on the long distant past. She no longer felt like the awkward young woman she had felt a few days ago. Here, she didn’t feel sad about the past that had caused her whole future to be cast into shadow. It didn’t matter any more.

Feeling a little braver, she moved closer to her brother, and snatched up the jug of stout, pouring herself a full pint. Savouring the scent, she drank deeply before wiping her mouth with satisfaction. Then she took up her pipe and began to pack it full of tobacco. Pegram watched her with his mouth open, aghast. “What are you doing?” he said in a shocked whisper.

“What does it look like?” she said, bitterly. Then, forcing a smile, she lit up her pipe, puffing out a great quantity of rich, earthy smoke right into the face of her brother, who coughed and had to move his head out of the way.

“I…” he did not know what to say. This was shocking behaviour, a well brought up woman to drink pints of stout and make a show of smoking her pipe. In public. In an inn. He grunted and stood up. He felt as though he needed some air.