The Green Dragon Inn - Part 10

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Willow paused from talking to the three other hobbit girls, and looked up at Aman. "Ah, hullo, Aman," she said, recognizing the innkeeper. Willow stood up.

"Evening ladies," said Aman, grinning. "Anyone need a drink?"

Willow still had to look up at the Rohan innkeeper, but standing, she was a bit closer to looking her in the eye. "Water?" she asked, grinning helplessly. Willow shrugged. "I am a bit thirsty, though I do not know what I'd like."

"Ah, of course," said Aman.

Willow bit her lip. "It doesn't matter, truly. Could you just get something for us, Aman?" she asked. "It would be greatly appreciated."

Willow tucked her fiddle closer under her arm, out of habit, she had picked it up. She climbed back up on the stool, and sat back down, setting her fiddle on her knees. "Ahh, but I seem to be forgetting my manners," Willow said. "Aman, this is Daisy"-- here she indicated the shorter hobbit-- "Lily"-- this time she noted the Breelands hobbits-- "And Mira"-- here Willow pointed at the last hobbit. "Daisy, Mira, and Lily, this is Aman, the innkeeper here. She is a fine woman."

Willow smiled weakly, but it was true. She had a fine appreciation of the innkeeper, even if she was one of the big people, and Willow wanted to make that clear: even if she didn't have the nerve to say it straight out.

[Memory of Trees]

Kyria pushed the door open and entered her room. The space was small and plain, but not especially ugly. A bed, an nightstand, a basin and pitcher - it was just as she expected it to be, just as she needed it to be. Perfect.

Strains of of music from the party below floated up through the narrow cracks in the floorboards, and Kyria's feet itched to dance. But no, dancing was out of the question, and she knew this. She should sit still, and wait, wait for Xavier. She must listen, and wait, and not let him down this time, not again. This she knew, and yet still she wanted to dance.

Sinking into a chair, the young elf pressed cold fingers to her aching temples. Be more careful, she chided herself. If you run about crashing into people, it's no more than you deserve. Be more careful next time, watch.

The mellow evening sun made the windowpane glow with soft golden light, shadows from the window dividing the floor into four equal sections of light beneath the window. Kyria rose and went to the window, staring out at the dusty road below. There was no sign of him yet, but soon she would see a cloud of dust rising up the path. She could feel him close.

A pang of hunger made her wince as she caught a delicious whiff of roasting meat coming from downstairs. She was faint with hunger, and it smelled like goot meat, a fine meal. She would eat, but first she must tend to her belonings.

Kyria picked up her sack from where she had dropped it by the door. It was mostly empty, containing only a gown, her maps, and a few other personal items. She plunked it decidedly down on the low bed. There, that was better.

Undoing the drawsting from the sack, Kyria withdrew a pair of long, thick leather gloves. They were black and reached almost to her elbows, and she put them on. She then pulled from the bag a heavy outer robe the sack did not look big enough to contain, and she also put that on. It reached down to the tip of her shoes, and she was entirely covered now except for her head, with the shiny black gloves over her hands. She was ready.

Kyria walked to the door, took a deep breath, and then pushed it open. Down the stairs, through the hall, and then she was there. She entered the crowded room fearlessly.

She was small for an elf. Petite, with small hands and feet, very thin and not very tall. The wine and cream robe completely enveloped her small body, and long, shining golden hair spilled freely down her back. Her nose turned up at the end, and she had small, round, flat black eyes that rolled and turned as she scanned the room.

There was a tall woman standing behind the bar, speaking to a group of hobbit girls. Kyria approached the woman. "Excuse me, m'am," she said softly. "You must be Aman. My name is Kyria of Dell. The meat smells delicious. May I have some?" she asked, placing a coin on the bar with a tiny, black-gloved hand.

[Firefoot]

"Are you familiar with that song? It is fairly simple," said Willow when she had finished playing her song. Lily stirred. It seemed as if she had heard the song, a long while ago, but it was very familiar none the less.

"I've heard it before," she replied. "I think I could play it. Maybe we should play a couple of more lively songs as well. A nice mixture, if you take my meaning. The mood seems celebratory tonight, like people might want to dance. I think I'll go retrieve my fiddle soon."

She heard someone approaching and she looked up and saw a woman coming heading towards them. "Evening ladies, anyone need a drink?" she asked smiling. The Innkeeper, probably, realized Lily. Willow answered. "Water? I am a bit thirsty, though I do not know what I'd like." The woman answered, "Ah, of course."

"It doesn't matter, truly. Could you just get something for us, Aman? It would be greatly appreciated," Willow said. Then she remembered her companions, and introduced them to her. "Aman, this is Daisy, Lily, and Mira," pointing to each of them in turn. "Daisy, Mira, and Lily, this is Aman, the innkeeper here. She is a fine woman."

"Pleased to meet you, Aman. The Green Dragon is a wonderful inn," Lily replied. She meant it too. Aman seemed like a really nice sort of person, and Willow's word that she was a "fine woman" solidified her impression. "And water would be great."