The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Gird]

Gird went on bobbing for a while until he was unexpectedly approached by another man. “I am Bredan, would you mind if I join you in a drink, I am new to this place.”

"Huh? Oh, me? Why of course?" Gird managed to get out. He then flashed a toothy grin, remembering his manners. "Bartender! Oh, Miss Aman I mean. I would like a warm milk, and this young man will have.. an ale, sir?"

"Oh, yes thank you" came the man's reply.

"And to pay.." Gird started. He then pulled out a small gold statue of an eagle from under his cloak. Well, this will be too much certainly. He thought. So Gird promptly smashed the statue on the counter, breaking off it's wing. "There we are." he mused with a grin. he picked up the wing and then lay the bigger part on the counter as payment. He then turned to the man."Very nice establishment, eh?" The man didn't have time to answer, when someone else came up to them.

"Good evening, sirs," the newcomer said with a smile.

"Oh! Hello!" said Gird with a smile. "Come on, take a seat. Would you like a drink?"

"No thank you, I just ordered"

"Fair enough," Gird started. "But may I be so bold as to ask both of your names? It wouldn't do at all for me to call you two 'male' and 'female' all night long. And you can call me Gird"

Gird reached forth both of his grubby hands, never one to forget his manners.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Willow smiled faintly, shaking herself out of her revere, as Lily started up the nexy song. It was lovely to be up there, standing on the tables, with friends, though in truth, she hardly knew the two other hobbits.

She was faintly aware that there were more people reacting to their music, and that the other girls were doing much better. They all were, as the time grew later.

Willow yawned. It was growing later, obviously, and the fact threw her slightly off tempo, though she knew the song well, all the verses, and three versions of the tune too. But night was falling-- growing later, and that in itself would take it's toll on her, if she had to continue too much longer. She only hoped that she could stay awake long enough to finish a few more tunes.

She noticed Lily yawning too, and realized that the others were probably as tired as her.

The song drew closer to its end, and Willow figured that it might be smart to take a few slower songs now that the day was drawing ever nearer to it's inevitable conclusion. There was no way to escape the blackness of night.

But in the meantime, they played their fiddles, and flutes, and sang as if night would never completely fall.

The song ended, wherein Willow allowed herself a long yawn before suggesting another song. "It's a slower song, but well known. I think it'll fit," she said, smiling tiredly. It had been a long day.

[piosenniel]

Buttercup came down the stairs to the kitchen, her shawl pulled tight about her shoulders. The morning air was chilly, and she could not wait to get into the warmth of the kitchen. Ruby was already up; she had started a small fire in the cooking grate and hung the kettle over it to boil.

While Buttercup made a pot of tea for the two of them, Ruby got out the basket of fresh eggs from the chicken coop and set out the ham from the pantry on the cutting board to be sliced. Tea warming their bellies as they worked, the two Hobbits began slicing the morning’s loaves for toast, and heating up the great cast iron skillets for frying the thick ham slices and the scrambled eggs.

Two of the Inn’s early morning servers had come in, and Buttercup handed them the trays filled with pots of jam and honey, the crocks of sweet cream butter, and the salt and pepper mills. They went into the common room and set the tables with them, then brought out the eating utensils in a large basket and began setting the tables for breakfast.

Soon the Common Room was filled with the scent of a sturdy Shire breakfast. The enticing smells of crisped ham and fresh toast wafted from the kitchen and up the stairs to the guests’ rooms. And soon the sounds of boots, shoes, and bare feet came trudging down the steps, their owners following their noses to the food.

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Please note: It is now morning time in the Inn and breakfast is being served.

The party is over and the tired staff of the Inn would appreciate any who might want to grab a broom, a mop to clean the floors; move the tables and benches back where they belong, take down the decorations, whatever you can ‘see’ that needs to be done.

~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[bilbo_baggins]

Ponto didn't remember going to sleep the night before, but that was probably because he had drunk too much ale.

Some of the other Party-goers were up and about, helping to clean the enormous mess everyone had made the night before. He knew he should probably help them, so he came out into the Common Room.

It was littered with ale mugs, party decor, and scattered tables and chairs. He set a chair upright, and began to help clean up the mess.

Sweeping up some of the spilt ale and righting some of the chairs, Ponto came across a hastily scrawled message on one of the tables.

"Look to it in the morning....[something undecipherable]... take care... once and for all..... the long sleep."

"Very sinister," Ponto muttered to himself, "What can it mean?"

[Galadel Vinorel]

The soft sound of a gentle flute was heard floating through the empty grounds of the Green Dragonn Inn in the early morning hours. It was a very peaceful sound and calmed everyone who heard it as it traveled like a gentle breeze through windows and open doors all over the area. Those who were awake became very happy, tilting up their heads every so slightly to try to hear the music more clearly as they wondered where it came from, yet it remained an eluisive, soft melody, as if the music itself were the incarnation of that wonderful time and state of mind that exists between sleeping and waking; that peaceful time that all people love. And those who were sleeping suddenly began to dream of far off and mysterious lands through which they constantly heard the gentle meldoy. Their dreams were filled with golden-leafed trees, with some of the leaves delicately falling off ever so often to glide gently through the air and rest upon the smooth flowing stream below. Places in Middle Earth that they had never seen or had never even known existed before then filled their dreaming minds, leaving with them a peace that would last through the hours to come, even after they had awaken.

And there, in the midst of it all, leaned Galadel against one of the outside walls of the inn, her hands wrapped gently around her wooden flute, from which the peaceful music was flowing out off. She was wearing her worn traveling clothes, her dirt-stained cloak thrown over this to keep away the soft morning breeze that threatened to chill her. Her hood was pulled far over her face, so that all that could been seen of her was her mouth, blowing through the flute, as her fingers moved up and down on it, to make the sweet noise that was flowing through the air.

A few minutes passed by, and then a half an hour. The end of her piece drew near. Some folks must be awake by now, she thought to herself, I will see if they need some help. The melody that the elf had played was over then, and so she dropped the flute slowly away from her mouth, her hands falling to her sides like the final flap of a bird's wing as it reaches the ground from its long flight home. Placing her flute careful back into the pouch that hung at her side, Galadel stood up straight, raising her face up slightly to see the rising sun. As she did this the hood of her cloak fell off her head to rest upon her shoulders, and her face was shown, the shining, crystal blue eyes looking out at the garden around her, her lips forming a gentle smile, her golden hair falling from her head down her flowing shoulders.

Walking around to the entrance of the inn the elf entered the building. She was confronted with a rather messy hall where the previous night's celebrations had been. That night seemed to the elf to have only been a few minutes ago. She almost expected to see the four young hobbit lasses to come running in and hop onto some tables to dance and sing once again or for Snaveling to enter into the room with Aman at his side, his face once more alight with some deep, inner fire that was mainly left locked up in his soul, though he let it out occassionaly, a suprise to all. Yet, they were not there, only a few people were in the quiet room, cleaning and righting tables and chairs. Smiling to herself, Galadel grabbed a broom that was resting, unattended, against the wall beside her and began to join the others in cleaning the common room, as she thought over the events of the night before. And so the sun rose over Bywater, and the life within the town and the Green Dragon Inn awoke slowly to greet the new day.

[Maeggaladiel]

Eleniel took Gird's hand and shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, Master Gird," she said. "My name is Eleniel of Laketown. What brings you to the Green Dragon?" She turned to the other gentleman.

"And may I inquire as to your name, good sir?" she asked him.

Waiting for his reply, Eleniel looked around her. It was morning already. She had spent the entire night in the stables with her wounded dog, but strangely, she did not feel like sleeping. Probably on account of the coffee that she was drinking. She raised her mug in a silent salute to the rising sun and drank.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling awoke to the sound of an oliphaunt stamping the side of the stables. Prying open his eyes a crack he was assaulted by the violence of sunlight and he once again forced them shut. But the stamping of the oliphaunt was more than he could bear and as having his eyes open seemed, somehow, to quieten the beast he once again forced apart his lids. It wasn’t so bad this time, and the roaring – which he now realised was inside his head and not outside the stables – quieted some. He stood, tentatively, for the stables were spinning slightly, although they were no longer doing the pirouettes that they had last night. The Man steadied himself against the side of his stall and held a hand to his head. It had been a long time since he’d been hungover and he was beginning to remember why.

At his feet, Tobias snored like a donkey and for the hobbit’s sake, Snaveling hoped that he would sleep a bit longer. Snaveling thought back to the evening and managed to reconstruct how he and his friend had made it to the stables. There had apparently been a thick fog of some kind that had made finding their way through the yard very difficult, and then the lantern had not worked very well, for they had tried three separate stalls before finding Snaveling’s, disturbing a number of irate horses in the process.

There was the gentle sound of a flute from outside and Snaveling recognised it immediately as the music of Galadel. The tune did much for the pounding in his mind, but there are limits even to Elvish magic, and the amount of alcohol that Snaveling had consumed last night had taken him well beyond that limit. He dunked his head into a bucket of ice-cold water and came up spluttering: this did even more to clear his mind. As he got dressed his mind wandered back to one of the last things that he could remember clearly from the night before. There had been that strange Gondorian who had spent a deal of time staring at Snaveling from the bar, and whispering with another disturbing looking Man. Snaveling fingered the amulet about his neck and slipped it beneath his clothes. That amulet had brought him enough grief last night.

He left Toby snoring in the straw and moved toward the Inn to find some breakfast. His mind turned back to what had occurred last night but it was still a mystery to him. He gathered now that somewhere in his ancestry there was a figure of great power and renown, but that this person was, for some reason, disliked and even feared by his companions. Primarily, he admitted with trepidation, by Roa herself. He had been reluctant to ask more as he feared what he might find, but he knew that sooner or later he would have to determine who his ancestor had been…and what that meant for him.

The Common Room was in a state of shambles, but already the Inn staff was up and about laying on breakfast and making a few stabs at cleaning up. The smell of bacon came from the kitchen, but it turned Snaveling’s still whirling stomach. Galadel was, of all things, sweeping the floor as he entered but she paused and smiled at him. “Good morning, Snaveling,” she said brightly, but still there remained the faint shadow that had come over them both last night.

Snaveling mumbled a greeting. “It is morning, my Lady, but I’m not so sure it’s a good one. My head and my stomach are not happy with what I did to them last night. I don’t suppose you have one of your rare Elvish medicines for my ailment?”

Galadel laughed and replied, “Aye, that I do, but for some ills I find that the best I can do for the patient is to let him suffer the consequences himself.”

Snaveling managed a pale smile at this. “Fair enough,” he said. “As I do not want any breakfast, and the best thing for me would be to get my blood moving, give me that broom so that I might sweep the floors – such work is not right for you my Lady. Nay, if you insist on doing something, I’m sure Aman would appreciate having some of these glasses cleared away.” He paused for a moment as Galadel passed him the broom. “And as we work together my Lady, perhaps you could explain just a bit more clearly what happened here last night. I think that my life’s story is connected in some way to matters far beyond my ken…”