The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger burst through the door to the kitchen nearly tumbling into the table where Cook and the Elven man sat. She was all out of breath and had a frightened look on her face.

'Come quick!' she wheezed out, her breath coming fast. She pointed out toward the common room. 'I was just upstairs doing a quick delivery of fresh towels for the guests for tomorrow. And I was hurrying down the hall upstairs with a stack of them, when I heard the most awful yelling you can imagine.'

She sat down on a chair that Huan pulled out for her and took a big gulp of water from Cook. 'Anyways, up in the room where that pretty Elf is staying, the one with the brother here, too. That's where it's coming from.' She looked from one to another. I was going to knock and see if anyone needed help but then I heard the most awful crash against the door and I ran down to get you.'

[piosenniel]

Cook got to her feet an frown on her face. She grabbed her sturdy, oak rolling pin and made for the door of the kitchen. She eyed the Elf with whom she'd been having tea. 'This isn't anything to do with the dark hairel Lady I saw leaving my kitchen just before I saw you is it?'

‘Come on, won’t you,’ she called to Emlin, who’s face seemed a whiter shade of pale as he listened to Ginger. She shook her rolling pin at the stairs in the common room. ‘And don’t you worry none, you’ll be safe with me and my pin. Just might need someone though to talk some sense into the Elves up there.’

[Huan]

Emlin was already on his feet, even as Cook had walked toward the kitchen door. By the Valar’s grace! Surely this wouldn’t be Teluyaviel. Her brother had seemed pompous and cold, but not violent. Yet, here was the little Hobbit telling them of loud voices and the sounds of something thrown and broken.

‘If he’s harmed one hair on her precious head I shall send him Westward without need of ship to bear his blighted carcass.’ His eyes were cold as death as he followed after Miz Bunce, though behind them flickered an even colder fear that they might come too late.

He raced up the last of the stairs, leaving Cook panting after him to keep up. He balled his hands into fists and beat upon the door loudly. ‘Open up you craven coward,’ he called, trying the knob of the locked door in vain.