The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Nurumaiel]

Silence had fallen on the table of Posco and Marcho, with the former growing more tense with each passing moment, and the latter growing more annoyed. Posco had realised from the first how futile it was to seek Lily in such a far away place, and now he was beginning to see how ridiculous he was for coming up with such a ridiculous scheme. Having Marcho as his companion made things no easier. If his brother Blanco had been there, he would have been constantly cheering him up, quite confident that Lily would come. But Marcho could do nothing but express his doubts.

"I think," said Posco, standing up abruptly, "that we ought to go inside. Everybody else is out here, and it would be a bit quieter indoors."

"They've probably locked the door," said Marcho.

Posco sat down again. Perhaps they had done exactly that. With everything to do outside, perhaps they didn't want the bother of looking after the Inn itself. Yet how peaceful it would have been indoors! And Posco stood up again.

"I'm sure they haven't locked it up," he said. "After all, there are plenty of people attending this party who will find their beds in there, and might not want to stay up too late."

"Everybody stays up late at a party," said Marcho. "They'll come staggering in drunk, I'm sure."

"Lily won't," said Posco, rather absently, for he was occupied with plotting out how he could get to the front door as obscurely as possible.

"Lily won't be anyhwere," said Marcho, "except in Bree, where she belongs."

Posco sighed a mournful sigh, and left the table. To his great relief, Marcho didn't follow him. Perhaps in the quiet of the abandoned Common Room, he could rekindle his hopes that Lily would come. If he could just have that hope for a few days... maybe at the end he could gather enough courage to go to her home. But for the present time he shuddered at the thought. Just imagine if her uncle opened the door.

Alas, the Common Room was not quite as empty as he had hoped. Apparently not all visitors to the Inn were enjoying the party. A lone hobbit, his travelling cloak still wrapped about him, sat by the window, gazing out at the bright lights and merry dancers. Posco considered leaving, but decided that the company of one hobbit was preferable to the company of many hobbits and other stranger things. He attempted to make his way unheard the opposite side of the room, but the stillness did not allow for even the slightest noise to be unnoticed.

The lone hobbit turned about to see who had entered, and instantly was on his feet, hurrying towards Posco. He took him by one hand, and then the other, and laughed heartily.

"Posco, my dear brother!" he said, releasing one hand to clap the poor confused Posco on the shoulder. "Why, don't stare at me as if I've come out of the Old Forest with a legion of hideous creatures behind me! Don't you recognise me?"

"Blanco," said Posco, and his rather weak smile was accompanied with a sigh.

"I was afraid Marcho would kill you," said Blanco, "so I told Mother I was just going to follow you, because I fancied a bit of adventure myself. Where is Marcho, anyhow?"

"He's sitting at a table out there," said Posco, with the faintest of gestures. Oddly, he felt his heart sinking within him, despite his previous thoughts that Blanco would be welcome company. Marcho was a grumpy old hobbit, but at least there was only him. Posco did not want to have an audience witnessing his meeting with Lily. And least of all he wanted Blanco to be there. He had an odd feeling concerning Blanco and Lily.

Of course Lily loved him. There had never been any doubt about it. She had loved him more than that Tommy Banks, whoever he was. But ever since their first visit to the Inn, the visit that had brought Posco and Lily to meet and love each other, Blanco had not been quite so attentive to Miss Marigold back at home. He would smile kindly at her, and he would speak with her, but his head wouldn't turn to watch when she passed by him, and he would no longer sit by the Brandywine composing poems to her golden-brown hair.

Was Marcho the only reason Blanco had come to join his brother? Could it be that another besides Posco longed with all his heart to see Lily again? Posco looked desperately at his dishevelled self, and then to Blanco, who, as usual, was perfectly neat and tidy. And no longer did he wish for Blanco's company.