The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Arry]

Gil and Tomlin were hiding in the thick bushes to the south of the Inn’s smokehouse. They were crouched down, the only thing visible their eyes, perhaps, when the light caught them. Their ears were open wide for sounds of any approach and their eyes scanned the area to sea if the culprit might come back.

Tomlin nudged Gil, his head nodding in a vaguely northerly direction. The sounds of some four legged beast, it seemed, could be heard in the distance, growing louder as it crashed across the Inn yard toward them. They were about to bolt and run, when they heard familiar voices call their names.

‘Over here!’ cried Gil, standing up from his hiding place. He listened to Cook’s instructions and shook his ‘No’ as Ferrin came to the end of them. ‘We can’t leave Cook to be out here by herself!’ he declared, his sense of male pride offended at the thought. ‘We’ll just wait for her . . . and the Shiriff. Make sure she’s alright.’

‘And what if it’s a bear . . . a big bear . . . with long sharp teeth and claws like she said,’ whispered Fallon, as the four of them hunkered down in the bushes.

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Ciro sighed heavily, again. He had just been been notified by a chirpy little serving-hobbit that the group of Dwarves sitting across the room had requested that he join them. He looked over to where the Hobbit pointed and saw that they were sitting with the girl who had been watching him since he arrived. It would be rude not to join them; moreover it would immediately appear suspicious, as no ordinary tourist would turn down the chance of fellowship and cheer.

Ciro thanked the hobbit and stood up. Leaving his booth, he walked slowly towards his first test. Concentrate, he told himself, you cannot slip now.

He arrived at the table, and smiled at his would-be friends. Their overall demeanour was jovial, and Ciro could certainly envisage an easier time at the Green Dragon than he had previously feared.

"Good day, my Dwarves! I am most gracious and glad of your invite. Some company and some luncheon will suit me well. And greetings to you, my lady. I hope I have not scared you with my ragged appearance."

"My name is Ciro," he said with a grin.

[Naria]

Riding her horse Flicker, a speckled Perchon breed, Naria came to a halt in front of the inn. Being from Rohan she was well suited for such a big animal. She dismounted and securely tied him to a post outside and told him to stay calm and get some rest. She had learned from an elder in Rohan how to speak with her horse and other smaller creatures.

Naria approached the inn and walked through the door. Fixing her tossled auburn hair,she walked up too the bar and ordered a tall ale. Waiting for her beverage she took notice of all the goings on. She clasped the ale with much gratitude and took a long needed drink, then look around for an appropriate seat and took it.

Naria heared a ruckus next to her table and noticed three drunkards; two dwarves and with back too her, what appears to be a female. She thinks to herself "maybe that person will be my apprentice and learn the gift of speaking to the animals."

Her attention is quickly averted when she realizes that she hasn't eaten in a day or so. Leaving her seat and approaching the barkeep Naria asks for some food.

[piosenniel]

Cook hurried along, the heavy iron poker grasped firmly in her hand. It was not long before she neared the smokehouse, its door hanging a little ajar. She stopped, casting her gaze about the area. She could see nothing or no one lurking nearby, nor hear any movement in the smokehouse itself.

With as quiet a step as she could muster, Cook crept up to the door, the poker held bravely before her. She got just close enough to swing open the door with the tip of her erstwhile weapon, then stepped closer, peering into the smoky interior.

A loud voice from behind startled her. And she rounded on what she thought might be the thief-returned, the poker held high.

[Arry]

‘It’s just us, Cook!’ cried Gil, as he and the others stood up from their hiding place in the bushes. Farron’s hands pushed him out of the way as Cook swung on them with the heavy iron poker.

They were just scrambling to get out of her way, when Halfred and his two deputies came pounding toward them on their ponies, stout clubs in hand. ‘After them, men!’ the Shiriff commanded, finger pointing at the scattering lads.

Minto and Mungo soon had them subdued and rounded up, ignoring their protests of innocence. ‘Oh to be sure,’ said Minto poking Tomlin in the back as he nudged him toward the Shiriff. ‘And isn’t that what they all say when they’re caught in the act!’

‘Well, now, Miz Bunce,’ Halfred began, a smile of satisfaction on his face for a job well and quickly done. ‘What got taken by these miscreants?’ Halfred smiled again, this time at the chance to try out a new word he’d recently learned.

[Koobdooga]

Ciro is invited to sit down

‘Welcome, Master Ciro!’ Ibun rose to his feet and indicated that the man be welcome to sit down with them. ‘Were passing time until the party this evening,’ he went on, waving his hand over the pitchers of ale and the plates of bread cheese and ham that had been brought to the table.

‘Please join us, if you will.’ He introduced those at the table starting with himself and working round to Fror, then Penn and her now sleeping ferrets.

He held up the pipe he was smoking. ‘And after, if you’ve a mind to, there’s good Shire leaf aplenty to settle down the last of the ale.’ Ibun poured a mug of ale for their new tablemate and offered him the basket of bread and plate of cheese and ham. Then, taking some for himself, he took a few bites and munched on them appreciatively.

‘So – if you don’t mind my asking. Where have you come from and where are you bound?’ Ibun took a swig of ale and sat back as the man considered the question.

[piosenniel]

‘Now hold on, Halfred,’ cried Cook, coming to her senses. ‘These fool lads were trying to catch whoever or whatever it was that broke into the smokehouse.’ She gave Gil and his companions a shake of her head. ‘And here I almost brained them! My golly, they scared me half to death!’

Minto and Mungo released the four suspects once Halfred had assessed the situation all round and come to the conclusion that none of them were the thief. Cook ordered the lads back to the Inn. ‘Let Halfred manage here,’ she said, giving Tomlin the poker to take back to the kitchen. ‘And we’ve a party to think of this evening. Best you lads lend your strong backs to getting it set up.’

Halfred, in the meantime had been inspecting the smokehouse while his deputies looked at the surrounding area. ‘Took some raw meat, whoever it was,’ said the Shiriff, noting the dried blood trailing out of the door and into the more forested area. ‘And two-legged, too,’ chimed in Minto, pointing to the scuffed tracks about the smokehouse.

Mungo, his father a locksmith from Hobbiton, stood looking at the broken latch. ‘Let me just ride to my father’s workshop. I’ll get that fixed up right as rain in no time.’ Halfred nodded and off Mungo went.

‘I’ll leave it in your good hands, Halfred, to find the culprit,’ Cook said as she started back toward the Inn. ‘Oh,’ she went on, turning back toward the Shiriff and his deputy. ‘Bring your wives to the Inn this evening. There’s a fellow in with some casks of ale he wants us to try out. There’ll be plenty of food and the drink to wash it down with. And dancing.’ Then she was on her way again and soon back in the kitchen.