The Green Dragon Inn - Part 10

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman smiled at the nervous looking individual as she drew out a pint for him, pushing it across the bar. The man (a Gondorian, Aman made an informed guess) smiled gratefully before wrapping long fingers around the brass handle, then Aman answered him.

"Not a birthday, no - or not in the sense of a person's birthday. The Inn - this Inn, that is, the Green Dragon - recently suffered a fire, and the travellers coming by along with the halflings have done the folk of Middle Earth justice," she smiled fondly. "They rebuilt most of it, as it had to be pulled down, but not even three weeks later..." she gestured around her, a small smile of proud slipping onto her sharp features. "Less than three weeks later, I have almost a new Inn, and that is what this party celebrates. And may I ask what your name is, sir? You have not been to the Shire before, I guess?"

"Aman."

The voice did not come from the man in front of Aman, but from another, who spoke before the nervous possibly-Gondorian could speak. Aman turned to see Snaveling standing nearby, half hidden even in the light atmosphere of the Inn. Something had always struck her as wrong about this sneaking, shadowy-natured man, and she had heard gossip...but then, the Innkeeper paid little heed to gossip, being as much of it was about her, and after all, it was a party! "Snaveling, can I help you?"

"Is there naught but ale and wine in this place?" he asked. "I feel the need of something much stronger!"

Snaveling's tone was slightly mocking, but more jovial and slightly louder than his usual quiet mutterings. He has been drinking...such men are dangerous when they drink, I fear... warned the voice in Aman's head, but her expression remained unruffled as she gave a small smile.

"What is it that you wish for, Snaveling, that is 'stronger'?" She replied lightly.

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa and Galadel had been talking for some time, mostly about nonsence. However, Roa could not remove the melody of his song from her head. Irritated, she excused herself for a moment to get a drink. Galadel gave her an all too knowing smile and nodded. Quickly, the ranger found a tray-bearing server.

As she was about to help herself, a slightly too loud and certainly too familiar voice hit her ears. She turned sharply to see him speaking with Aman. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she decide against the drink. But something else tugged at Roa, something akin to pity, and she tried to push away the saddness she felt for the poor man. Poor man! He would have let you die! He is nothing more than a cold blooded murderer! By this time, she was back at the table. Galadel gave her an inquisitive look, and said, "Is he really? I could have sworn you were mistaken."

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Willow breathed in the night air, relaxing now that she was out of the common room.

"What came over me?" she asked herself. "Why can I never go anywhere where someone would hear me play?"

She picked up her bow again, and gazed out into the evening. Not one to really truly party, she felt more at home where it was silent, though the party still sounded in the background.

She picked up her fiddle again, and ran the bow across the strings, and played a slow, haunting, and mournful melody, that echoed across the hills.

A song that she had known since childhood, and a song that fit with her feelings. When she finished, she felt better, and less scared, for reasons she did not understand.

But still she played, standing out under the faint moonlight, until all her fears had passed away.

"And that is that," she said, smiling. She walked back into the common room, for playing had made her thirsty.

Willow tucked her fiddle under her arm, and looked around for Aman, the innkeeper.

She noticed that the innkeeper was talking with some other people, but still she walked over, even though she hated to interupt other people's conversations. "Do you have any water here?" she asked.

[Kransha]

“Where do I hail from?” said Toby, leaning back again and laughing to himself, “Therein lies a tale which I have told far too many before you. But it is always a pleasure to tell it again.

Reclining further, Tobias Hornblower took a great, guzzling swig of the frothy ale that lingered in his tin mug. He had a great supply of ale earlier, quaffing to his heart’s wholesome content. The elder hobbit began to fear that he was letting the drink get to his head as well as his belly, but he was successful in rattling off the traditional “Hornblower Heritage” story that he’d told Snaveling and Roa several days earlier.

“I am a gentlehobbit of Longbottom, ma’am, and the stunningly green fields of the Southfarthing. There, my family, the Hornblowers, is one of the most respected and honored of the hobbit dynasties. For many long years we have tended the land around Longbottom and exported pipe-weed to the rest of the Shire. In fact, one of my own distant relatives first planted pipe-weed in the Shire and began to increase its popularity. Now, we Hornblowers have his legacy to continue.”

His warm grin remained pleasant, but became less direct as he looked away from Miss Mirabell, staring into the blurred colors of the crowd as it seemed to sway, swell, flow, and ebb around him like multicolored tides with countless rays of light refracting into delicate rainbows through them. It was a beautiful sight, though it was not the sight his eyes actually were witnessing. “And then….and…and I came to the Green Dragon…about a year ago…no, that’s not right, it was about a month ago…or was it a week.” Toby’s narrative oration crumbled as his words began to come out slurred together. Ignoring the fact, he took another drink, finishing off the ale in his mug and carefully inspecting every last drop that clung to its innards.

“Yes, yes, about a month, I think…” he trailed off, the colors of the crowd and the various dim lights beginning to captivate him as the ale mingled with the rest of him. He sagged in the chair, his eyelids drooping. He managed to perk up after a deep breath and almost fell forward in the hobbit-size chair.

“So…how’s life in Hobbiton nowadays? I have many a relative around these parts and I would certainly like to know of any interesting recent happenstances.”

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Do you have any water here?" The hobbit's voice broke into the gap before Snaveling could speak. Guiltily a little glad to have an excuse away from this slightly uncomfortably situation, Aman nodded, unable not to smile as she crinkled her nose a little.

"Of course, miss," she replied, not knowing the hobbit woman's name, and inclined her head slightly. "If you'll just come with me..."

The woman looked slightly surprised, obviously expecting to have just been waiting there, but she didn't seem to mind too much, walking beside Aman on the other side of the bar. She even seemed slightly relieved - although the glinting look which had appeared in Snaveling's eye was not, Aman had to admit, something that many people would immediately want to be nearby for long. But that was not the reason the Innkeeper had led her away - the fiddle under the hobbit's arm told Aman immediately who she was: the hobbit who had played that delightful dance, then dashed away so hastily. From the embarassed rush she had been in, Aman realised the hobbit probably wasn't Middle Earth's keenest performer, but the Rohirrim Innkeeper believed that such talent should be rewarded and complimented.

She darted into the kitchen to fill a glass with cool, clear water and handed it to the hobbit as she came out. "No charge - it is only water," she said as violinist reached for her pocket. But as she reached, her fiddle shifted, slipping, and Aman grabbed the neck quickly to stop the instrument from falling. The hobbit looked intensely relieved and smiled openly, taking back the violin.

"Thank you, Aman." Her voice was warm and soft, as mellow as the sound of her playing.

"A pleasure - it would be a shame for such an instrument to break, of course, especially when it makes such a beautiful sound."

The hobbit blushed, but Aman pressed on. "I heard you before - not only in the Common Room, but when you played in the corridor a few moments ago. Don't worry, I don't think anyone else will have heard," she added hastily as the hobbit looked mortified. "I stepped into the corridor for a moment, that's why I had the pleasure. But listen, that is no ordinary instrument, and you are a fine player. Will you not grace the party with a few tunes later on, Miss...?"

[Mad Baggins]

Toby sagged in the chair and slumped forward, nearly landing on the floor. He took a deep breath and sat up again, asking, “So…how’s life in Hobbiton nowadays? I have many a relative around these parts and I would certainly like to know of any interesting recent happenstances.” He leaned against the back of his chair again and stared dreamily into the crowd.

Mira chuckled and replied, "Well, it's the same old Hobbiton. Many birthdays have passed; and births, and deaths. But other than those few minor details...it's been the same quiet Hobbiton."

As if to counteract what she had just said, there was a crash of breaking glass. Toby jumped and looked about blearily, while Mira whirled in her seat and searched the crowd for the source of the noise. Aman suddenly appeared, looking angrier than a pestered bee. She stormed past, heading for the cellar. Mira began to turn back to Toby, saying, "Well, I guess I was wrong..." When she was facing him again, she saw that his head was bowed on his chest and he was breathing deeply.

Mira slowly leaned forward and touched the elder hobbit's shoulder. "Toby...are you awake...?"

He started and jerked his head up, saying loudly, "What? I'm not asleep. How could I fall asleep on such a fine evening?"

Mira laughed and said, "You didn't fall asleep, good sir. You were simply...resting your eyes."