The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Noinkling]

Benat makes his way to Derufin's

Benat picked up his walking stick where it leaned against the window frame and walked to the pegs near the front door where his cloak hung. ‘Come, Cullen!’ he called to his canine companion. ‘Cook’s told a fellow named Derufin we’ll come help clear the downed trees from the edge of the Inn’s yard.’ Benat drew his cloak over his shoulders and shrugged it into place.

Opening the Inn door, he ducked down a bit and stepped onto the porch. Two strides brought him down the steps. Cullen bounded out behind Benat and circled him, wagging his tail. ‘This way, fellah,’ called the man, walking briskly toward the groundskeeper’s cottage.

[Mithalwen]

It had taken Mithalwen longer than she expected to get Marigold ready. It had been quite a task to persuade her she should have a bath since Marigold claimed she had had a good wash that morning, and only the addition of what Mithalwen told her were "special elf herbs as used by the queen herself (who everyone knew was the fairest lady in the world)" had convinced her. They would ensure she would wake with few aches from her fall.

Then while the hobbit maid bathed, Mithalwen had realised one of the dresses was missing. She did not want to be away from Marigold for time it took to find it and so attempted to conceal it's absence a while by telling her she should wear the red dress " for it is the most cheerful colour for a grey day". As Marigold's hair dried she managed to persuade it into ringlets rather than wild curls and scavenged a piece of ribbon to keep them off her face. All in all, the elf was proud of her handiwork as she helped Marigold back down stairs. Her clear voice could be heard before they turned the corner and came back into the view of those in the common room.

"Now Marigold, you can show Mr Headstrong, Miss Aman and Mr Snaveling .. " cursing herself for mentioning them in the same breath and hoping it wouldn't prompt Marigold to develop her earlier theory, " how pretty you look.... oh they seem to have gone.. well you can show Mr Headstrong anyway ..that is most important since he gave you the dress" she added wondering where the Dunadan and the innkeeper were.

Marigold walked selfconsciously towards her benefactor who now seemed to have the company of another hobbit girl. While Marigold was distracted she whispered to Falco "I seem to be missing one of Miss Marigold's dresses ....... I must have left it behind .... I am sure I had them all ... anyway the other things are safely in the press in her room".

Really the child did look sweet in the red frock and it set off the single pearl necklace nicely.... she wondered if she should offer to shorten it.. but then that was another issue she was avoiding... how had Marigold come into possession of her wedding gift?

[samsmyhero]

Falowik had traced the outline of both of Denegal's feet onto a rough piece of parchment procured from the inn, and was now busy cutting out the leather. They had certainly received some odd looks as they had passed through Bywater looking for the tanner. The old hobbit had grinned, seeing Denegal's red slippers, and seemed somewhat disappointed that his friends were intent on reshodding the young soldier. But he was happy enough at the coin jingling in his hand as the three left his shop.

Upon returning to the inn, Denegal had stood just long enough to let Falowik trace his feet, then went in search of an axe. Now that the rain had stopped, he was duty bound to get onto the dismembering of those trees. Falowik and Uien had settled themselves comfortably in one of the empty stalls of the stable. Though the day was still chilly, the warmth of the horse' bodies were enough to keep the place warm and snug. Denegal felt the sharp caress of the wind as he turned the corner of the inn. But he knew the work ahead would certainly keep him warm enough. Ths sun was making a brave attempt to ward off the clouds that still flitted across the sky, and its rays felt good on his face.

The Cook had said the trees were near the groundskeepers' cottage and had pointed the way to him earlier that morning. Making his way along the path, Denegal became aware of a loud panting and bold footsteps behind him. Turning, his eyes widened in alarm at the sight of a huge man and an equally huge dog trotting at his side. The giant also stared at Denegal, but his surprise was a source of amusement – the curly toed red slippers, of course!

"Good day to you . . . friend." Denegal offered, hopefully. "I'm in search of the groundskeeper's cottage. Do you know if this is the way?"

[Nurumaiel]

Why Falco leaned over to whisper in Mithalwen's ear he couldn't say. He was supposed to be suspicious of her, but he was murmuring low to her, as if confident of her. Perhaps Camille had put him in an excellent put, or perhaps he had been slightly warmed by Mithalwen's own whispering. But whatever the reason, he did indeed lean over to her, with a reassuring smile, and whispered a reply.

"Don't fret about Marigold's dress, Miss Mithalwen," he said. "It's safe and sound, and I believe it is in the kitchen." He paused for a moment, and made a move as if to straighten up, but lingered in his leaning position a little longer to say, in the same low tones: "I'm going to be gone briefly this evening to help a young boy get to the Inn... I wonder if you would mind watching out for Marigold while I'm away."

Ah, so he was suspicious of her, and he asked her to watch Marigold again... and he wouldn't be in the Inn. Last time Marigold had been left alone with this young woman, she (that is, Marigold) had fallen from a horse. What madness possessed him to ask again? Why did he suddenly feel as if he ought to trust this young woman? He was quite irritated with himself, and gave her no time to voice either assent or dissent, for he immediately turned to face Camille and Marigold, who had been gazing curiously and rather shyly at each other.

"Miss Camille, I should like you to meet Miss Marigold Baker. And, Marigold, my dear, this is Miss Camille." He had been determined to ignore the young woman in the introductions as his penance for trusting her to watch Marigold again, but he felt it would be rude, and so added, in a rather grudging tone: "And, Camille, this is Miss Mithalwen."

[Witch_Queen]

Jon looked at Dwaline. He knew why the dwarf would ask about his curiousity for the crow. "Along my journeys I've seen many white crows just wondered if she has anything to do with them." Jon looked up when he heard the sound of Aman's voice. Ah so they were right she is here. "She seems pretty content around people. Its just wrong that she's been hurt. Oh and as for my type... thats a very long story. I'm not like the type you compare me to. Now I must find Aman. Have you seen her?"

Jon looked around the inn searching for Aman. He hadn't seen Aman in years and thought now would be an excellant time to see her. Jon hadn't been in the shire for a long time. The last time he left he was running from the future he didn't wish to embrace. "Oh well I guess I'll see her sometime."

[Noinkling]

Benat speaks to Denegal

Cullen was fascinated by the red things on the man’s feet. He inched forward, his tail wagging, and began to sniff at them. They were animal hide, their scent quite intriguing, for they did not smell like other footwear he had encountered on his travels with his master. Had he the vocabulary he would have thought them ‘exotic’; but, instead, he merely took a long whiff of them, then looked up hopefully at their wearer, wondering if he would share them.

‘Excuse my dog . . . Cullen’s his name, by the way. He seems fascinated by your curious footwear. And to be honest,’ Benat blurted out without thinking, ‘I’ve never seen the like in my short travels.’ The trio walked on together. There was really nothing to be said about the shoes save that they were borrowed and that soon Denegal would have a proper pair of boots.

‘My name is Benat,’ the Beorning said, following up on Denegal’s offer of his own name. ‘And yes, I think I do know where the cottage is you speak of. Seems a certain one of the Small Folk has enlisted us both in the pursuit of firewood!’ Benat reached down to scratch Cullen between the ears. ‘I must confess I’ve not had the acquaintance of many of the Small Folk, but I find them quite engaging. Don’t you? And generous, in their own way.’

[Envinyatar]

Derufin and Zimzi watch as Benat and Denegal approach . . .

‘Quickly, Zimzi! Come out here!’

Derufin stood on the porch of the cottage, stringing up a thin rope line frome one of the nearby trees to one of the porch’s posts. Zimzi had stirred up her bleaching brew, adding in the soured milk that Cook had given her, and was now wringing out the sodden tangle of curtains in preparation for hanging them in the sun.

‘I’m on my way. Last one’s in the basket,’ she called. She picked up the pouch of cleverly carved wooden pins for hanging clothes on a line she’d gotten as a present from one of the Shire ladies and placed it in the basket. ‘Well, here I am,’ she said, plunking the basket at Derufin’s feet, and reaching in to hand him one of the damp curtains. ‘Here! Help me get these hung, won’t you.’ She handed him several of the clothes-pins and began shaking out a curtain of her own to hang. ‘Now what was so urgent that you called to me in the first place,’ she asked, showing him how to use the pins.

‘Look there,’ Derufin said, pointing toward where the back door to the Inn’s kitchen was. ‘Look at those two fellows. I’ll bet they’re the ones Cook said she’d send.’

Zimzi’s mouth formed a small ‘O’ of surprise. ‘My! That is a very big “helper”! And his dog . . . he’s as big as a Shire pony.’ She broke into a small chuckle. ‘And the other fellow . . . the one that’s our size. What on earth has he got on his feet?’ Zimzi laughed aloud. ‘Trust Cook to send us her more interesting strays!’