The Green Dragon Inn - Part 10

[Lumiel]

The shadows of the day lengthened and Indy and Fungrim made their way back to the new Inn, ready for the party. Fungrim had plaited his beard, a design which seemed to fascinate the young girl. He was cleaned and his clothes were neat. Meanwhile, one of the hobbit women took note of Indy's condition and dragged the poor girl off.

"No! No! I don't wanna take a bath! I'm fine, I like it like this!" she protested, her feet dragging. She turned pleadingly to Fungrim. "Fuuungriiim!" she whined, "Tell her that she can't make me take any stinkin' bath!"

Fungrim laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling. "If I have to clean up, so do you!" he teased her in response. That was all she heard before being dragged upstairs. The woman led her to a small washroom and quickly put her in the oval tub, soaking her from head to toe. She scrubbed and scrubbed, taking off what seemed to be layers of grime, nearly as stubborn as Indy herself who pouted and sulked in the water.

Finally, Indy re-emerged with a pleased-looking hobbit. With a warning to not get dirty again and the promise of another bath if she did, Indy was released. Her hair was shiny and clean, and partially pulled back by a red ribbon. She wore a red dress with sleeves that reached to her elbows and what appeared to be a corset of a pale white around her middle. The only consolance for her was that she had not been forced to wear shoes.

Trudging over to Fungrim, she pulled herself up to the chair and sat down with a dramatic flourish, folding her hands on the table and setting her chin down on top. "I didn't need a bath. I'm just gonna get dirty again anyway!" she said.

"Well Indy, it's the way things are. You have to take a bath. Sometimes you have to do things that you don't want to, it's life." he told her in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Traitor!" she said, glaring at him. Her brow was drawn low over her large, expressive eyes which were at the moment half-squinted. Her lower lip pouted out slightly, and she had an overall air of being miffed about her. Put together, she looked like a tiny, angry bull. Fungrim chuckled at the image as he drank from his mug. "What are you laughing at?" she accused.

"Well lass, it's just that I can't tell if you're a little girl or a bull, what with that face." he answered. Indy sat up indignantly, her mouth open and her eyes wide. The dwarf laughed again. "Do you have any horns under that clean head of yours?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

As indignant as she felt and as stubborn as she was about making sure Fungrim knew how indignant she felt, she felt a smile tugging at her mouth. In a moment, she broke out laughing, the sound ringing out like the spring cry of a robin. Fungrim echoed her laughter, his voice a deep but matching partner for her child's voice. "I don't have any horns, but watch out, I'm a big, bad, wolf! Rarrr!" she said cheerfully, raising her hands like claws and making a snarling mouth with a crinkled nose, complete with a matching smile and giggle. The party had just begun and already Indy felt wound up and giddy.

[Kitanna]

Peony looked at Aldor, who seemed to be in a trance before smiling once more at her. "Are you alright? You seemed worried just a moment ago." Peony returned Aldor's smile.

"Perhaps a little homesick?" Peony knew what it meant to be homesick. Days would come when all she felt like doing was turning around and returning to Minas Tirith. Yet at the same time she was out to prove her father wrong.
You will not last a month in the wild Peony. You will return with your tale between your legs like a wounded dog.

Peony loved her father, but she had to show him she could handle being away from home. She looked at Aldor and laughed a little. "Perhaps something to take your mind off our troubles. Care for another dance?"

[Archsage Isaac]

Isaac, though weary from travel, was still in control of his senses enough to hear the general chatter going on inside of the Inn. He slowly wiped his face with his sleeve and readjusted the bag on his shoulder. After raking his hair from his face he walked to the entrance. As he entered, he nearly bumped into a few people. Aplogizing to them, he slowly made his way back to a fairly isolated table in the rear. There was a couple of people around him, but he would have to bear it for the moment. Isaac placed his bag on the table first and then slumped into an empty chair with an above average thud. After looking around to see if it had disturbed anyone, he removed the weighted cape he wore and gently placed it gently on the ground by his feet.

After looking around the room once again, he sighed heavily. Just what I needed...a party. he thought sarcastically, impatiently tapping his foot against the ground. "Oh well, don't worry about one such as me, I'm just a weary wanderer. I'll be better as soon as I get some rest..." he said in a low voice, really hoping that none of the ones around him heard his words...

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Willow set down her fiddle, having played out her moods on the violin. She was okay now, though she still wondered everything, everyone, who, what, where, when, why...

She had been like that as a child, though now she had more sense... normally. With all the past events, she really was beginning to wonder about everything and everyone.

A man walked into the inn, and nearly walked into her. She jumped back before he crashed into her, and steadied her fiddle, nearly dropping it.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, before heading to a table in the back of the common room.

He sat down with a greater than normal 'thud', and Willow flinched visibly. She hated when people sat so hard that the chair nearly broke.

Not that it had.

Unconsciously, she clutched her violin closer, and looked around for somewhere to sit down; wondering, all the while, if Aman had remembered that she was suppose to fiddle later that night...

With all the events taking place seemingly, it appeared that she might forget, and that, if the party kept up like this, things might end earlier. Willow had never liked parties that much, and nearly always slipped away before the end, anyhow.

But this one was taking so many turns, things might end up ending earlier that night.

The younger hobbit maiden walked to an empty table nearer to the edge of the room, and sat down, stroking her fiddle fondly, and thinking. Thinking of everything.

She smiled wistfully at her fiddle, and sat back to relax.

[Kitanna]

Deva wandered around the inn making conversations with one or two people as he drank his ale and enjoyed the party. As Peony had said he was getting drunk, but Deva was still relatively composed. Three ales was not enough to affect the better half of this judgement.

As he pushed past on his way for another ale he tripped over and foot that lay in his path. "Bah!" Was all that escaped as he came crashing to the ground.

He had fallen by the feet of a young man with golden locks falling into his face. "I meant to do that." Deva grumbled as he got up. "He smiled and extended his hand to Isaac. "Sorry for all the ruckus. Please let me buy you a drink. My name is Deva and yours young traveller?" Deva waited for an answer.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling had never been more pleased to see Toby than in that moment. He had amends to make to many people, but he knew that it would be best to wait until he was sober to speak with most, and that it would be easiest to begin with the gentle-hobbit. He handed the now half-empty bottle of brandy to his friend and bid him drink it down. Toby’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the bottle and he let out a low whistle. “Where in the Shire did you get this?” he asked. “Why I’ve not suh. . .seen a genuine bottle of 1385 in yuh…years. We need glasses!” He scrambled to the bar, looking more like a rodent than when he were sober, and demanded two snifters. Aman smiled lightly as she handed them over to the hobbit and her eyes met Snaveling’s. It seems that the brandy was an even richer gift than I thought, he reflected. Still, it’s not half so rich as what else I’ve gained this night.

Toby was soon at Snaveling’s side and they looked about them for someplace to sit. There were a couple of empty chairs near where Roa and Galadel sat, but Snaveling urged Toby to sit with him somewhere else, as he was not feeling quite ready to face them. The hobbit, too far gone to notice his friend’s reticence, quickly guided them through the press of bodies to a quieter corner where they were able to commandeer two armchairs. Carefully pouring out the brandy, Toby settled back into the soft cushions and took a deep sniff. He let out a sigh of utter satisfaction before sipping the brandy as though it were liquid gold. Following his example, Snaveling took a gentle sip and found that all the hard pulls he had taken from the bottle before had done the liquor a terrible disservice. It warmed his tongue and filled his belly with blueberry jam. His exchange with Aman had done much to sober him, but he still sipped his glass slowly in order to enjoy the drink and prevent himself from falling into a total stupor.

“So,” Toby began, simultaneously closing his eyes and laying his head back against the chair, “What were you and Aman doing closeted together like that?”

Snaveling was not ready to tell Toby about the wine and stealing the brandy. “We were merely working out the details of my continued presence here,” he said. “I can’t afford to pay for a room or board, but she’s agreed to let me stay on and help out in exchange for my lodgings.”

“Good, good,” Toby said, not really listening, his eyes still closed. “What I think we need Snaveling is a suh…song” he hiccuped. “You have a surprisingly good voice – who would have thought it to luh…look at you! Would you care to give us another?” Snaveling took another gentle sip of the brandy, and whether it was the liquor or what had transpired with Aman he could not tell, but he was not at all averse to singing. In fact, he found that he rather wanted to.

“There's a bower of roses,
by Brandywine’s stream,
And the nightingale sings
'round it all the day long.
In the time of my childhood
'Twas sweet like a dream,
To sit by the roses
And hear the bird's song.
That bower and its music
I never can forget,
But of when alone
In the bloom of the year
I think, "Is the nightingale
singing there yet?"
Are the roses still bright
by the calm Brandywine?

“No, the roses soon withered
that hung over the wave,
But the blossoms were gathered
While freshly they shone,
And the dew was distilled
On the flowers, that gave
All the fragrance of summer -
when summer is gone.
Thus memory draws from delight
ere it dies,
An essence that breathes
of it many a year.
Thus, bright to my soul
as 'twas then to my eyes,
Is that bower on the banks
of the calm Brandywine.”

Snaveling finished his song, and to his own surprise, smiled and bowed his head to the scattered applause. “Well my friend,” he said turning to Toby, “What say you to my song?” He paused for a moment. “Toby? Are you awake?”

[Archsage Isaac]

Isaac was shocked at first when Deva hit the floor, but then more dumbfounded as he apologized for falling. "My name is Isaac, and do not apolgize for tripping, Deva, it was not your fault." he replied, shaking Deva's hand. "Please do sit, take a load off." he said, gently pushing one of the other chairs at the table out with his foot.

After some careful consideration, Isaac began to speak to Deva. "I think I will accept your offer for that drink, though I don't know what's good..." he said with an exhausted sigh. He once again pushed his hair from his face and awaited further conversation with Deva.