The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[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…”

[Firefoot]

Lily awoke to sunshine streaming through the window and the smell of eggs and toast wafting up through the floorboards. The final song they had performed last night was still playing itself through her mind. Mmm, breakfast, she thought. Lily felt like she was starving and realized how little she had eaten last night. She hurriedly got ready and went downstairs.

Though it was still early there were already several people downstairs, some of them helping themselves to a delicious breakfast and some helping the staff to clean up from last night's party. Lily opted to join the former group. She got a hearty breakfast of eggs, ham, and tea and dug in. The food was delicious. As she ate, she observed the other people who were in the Common Room. She saw the Elf who had played her flute with them last night for a bit - Now what was her name again? Lily wondered - talking to a Man she vaguely recognized from last night. She wasn't sure who anyone else was.

When Lily had finished her breakfast she looked around for a way to help out in cleaning up. She noted all the tables and chairs gone askew and decided to start there. She pushed some chairs back to where they belonged by the tables and righted a table that had been pushed over. It didn't look like such a mess when I went upstairs last night. But now the place looks absolutely filthy! thought Lily. I suppose there's nothing for it. These mugs need to go back to the kitchen, I suppose. She picked up the stray mugs on a table and carried them into the kitchen. The Hobbit maid smiled her thanks and said, "Those can go over there." Lily did as directed and wandered out into the Common Room, this time picking up a broom to begin sweeping. As she swept, she found herself humming a tune from last night.

Home is behind, the world ahead.
And there are many pathes to tread.
Mist and shadow, cloud and shade,
All shall fade, all shadows fade

[Eowyn Skywalker]

The sunlight streamed itself through the window, and highlighted the still sleeping hobbit's face. Birds chirped merrily as the bright sunlight illuminated the area. "Hmm..." Willow groaned slightly in her sleep, and, rubbing her eyes, tried to sit up. "Is it morning already?" she asked to the air, and continued to rub the sleep from her eyes.

Yawning, she pulled herself out of bed, and stood to look in the mirror. Her tired reflection looked back at her, rumpled and messy from the night before. She had been so tired after the last song that she had collapsed into bed, still in her dress from the day before.

The sounds of morning worked their way though the wooden cracks in the door, bringing her back to the present, and to the fact that, indeed, it was morning, and time for her to arise.

Her hair was a mess, as was normal to those who slept without removing the ribbons that she used to hold her curly brown hair back with. She knelt beside her bed, and pulled out her bags. She searched through them, and pulled out a comb. She removed the tangled mass of ribbons, and let loose her long hair.

Willow pulled the comb through, not bothering with neatness, just trying to get her hair out of the way, as it was morning, and she didn't fancy missing breakfast. A few minutes later, she had her hair pulled back into a loose braid, most befitting of her simple clothing.

She pulled her party dress off, tossing it over her head, and exchanged it for a more simple work-dress and apron, as now was not the time, she felt to be wearing fancier clothing. She tossed it into her bag, and shoved it back under her bed, along with her fiddle, still sitting on the floor from the night before.

Now ready, Willow stepped out the door, to see what was going on.

[Kransha]

A slithering beam of sunlight, bearing down through the bare slivers between wooden planks in the stable managed to pry open Toby’s single eyelid. The hobbit’s opened lid plastered closed in an instant, snapping as a trap would on a mouse. Slowly, but with a sluggish and lackadaisical sureness, the two heavy bulbs opened up, revealing beneath their wrinkled cloak a pair of disillusioned grayish orbs, watery and flanked beneath by bags of tinted red that told a tale of weariness and woe. With painful velocity, the inner workings and gears of Toby Hornblower’s brain began working as his lost faculties returned reluctantly to him.

Last night was still floating around in the murky ocean of his befuddled mind. He remembered, only fleetingly, his giving of the eleven…or was it ten, gold pieces to Miss Aman as a gift. He tried vaguely to reminisce, but found his mental and physical vision blurred as he tried to get up and failed, crumbling like so much jelly into a quivering mass covered in hay. He thought back, piecing together the events like a shattered jigsaw puzzle. He remembered the unfortunate incident in which a canine belonging to some partygoer was injured rather grievously. There was a deal of fuss made over it, which Toby and Snaveling saw when the two of them, dead drunk and stumbling with a luminous green aura of negative splendor dripping from them, had headed towards the inn stables. There were other incidents of gossip-worthy remembrance, but none that could be formed as moving images in Toby’s head. The hobbit grimaced mentally as he remembered the amount of alcohol he’d imbibed during the lengthy and lavish gala event yesterday eve.

Gradually, Toby’s stupor evacuated somewhat. The hobbit pushed himself miserably up into a sitting position, shaking his head and watching clinging strands of hay fly off his dangling brown and gray hair. He managed to shove his weak, shoeless legs beneath him and use them like great pliers to extract himself from the tawny mess of material. Yawning deeply, he became aware of a resilient and frustratingly consistent drumbeat that seemed to hammer against his cranium. The hangover was apparent, as Tobias immediately regretted every ill-aimed drop of ale from the night’s festivities. The pounding echoed more firmly, amplified now that the Fallohide hobbit was awake. Toby, beginning to flail his arms frantically to steady his unsteady balance, Tobias managed to bumble onto his feet, sliding with what could not be called agility out of the straw pile he was in, and onto the more solid, dirt ground. A nearby horse’s gaze caught his, followed by a disapproving whinny which jarred Toby’s failing senses.

Snorting indignantly, Toby examined himself thoroughly, despite the pang resounding in thunderous succession in his head’s empty halls, however empty they were. He smelled a vile smile, which permeated the air just around him. A veiled odor was dripping off his rustic-colored waistcoat and his greasy, unclean hands with their rough patches of skin soaked in an adhesive sensation from the previous night. Toby shook his two appendages over the hay, picking string of gathered dirt from the narrow niche between his jagged nails and scraggly fingers. He began walking, exercising his legs and pulling them up and down at a jogging pace as he tried to ignore the hangover. As he passed the great piles of hay and varying stalls, more horses perked up and protested the hobbit’s presence, though this particular Halfling didn’t seem to care. Toby knew the smell that surrounded him like a haze of thick smog was contrbuted to by his garb. Having brought no clothing change to the Green Dragon Inn, Toby hadn't changed his rust-brown waistcoat, evergreen breeches, or gaudy, limegreen, sequined vest in weeks. That vest, which he prized, was now bleached by dirt, dust, soot, and other debris that was magnetically attracted to it. Toby scowled again as he headed forward doggedly.

Still at a developing pace, Toby emerged from the stable and stretched, a full yawn punching out of his mouth where at had been waiting, followed by a walloping burp that had waited all night to be emitted by the previously drunk Shire resident. Toby coughed, recovering his ragged breath and forcing the wriggling frog from his throat as he gazed up, with a merry, if not slightly discomposed look gleaming in his one clearer eye. The beams freshly bathed him, soaking his shadow silhouette and blazoning it against the dull brown of the wooden stable. Letting a smile flicker over his soured lips, Tobias Hornblower strolled jollily towards the inn itself, whistling a merry tune to himself, which carried on the cool wind.

Galadel and Snaveling where within, in the Common Room, which was in severe disarray. Everything was arranged villainously in the order it should not have been. Toby had an inner sense of aesthetics, and this made his already wrenching stomach jump for some reason. He knew he was just overreacting because of the needed energy he had to vent, since he normally didn’t care how a room looked. Toby nodded an acknowledging nod to the elf and man, who had dutifully busied themselves with helping the long and tiresome process of cleaning. Most people seemed to be assisting in some way, no matter how miniscule or unnoticed in its unimportance. Toby figured he might lend a helping hand as well…a little bit later, that is.

Toby wasted no time in losing sight of the goals he’d been set on the previous sight when an enticing smell grabbed him by the collar and hauled him towards the kitchen. Shortly, beneath the noses of the few folk who’d awakened, Toby had easily appropriated (all in legal right, of course) a fully splendiferous platter splotched with the dappled, sweet-scented morning goodness of steaming ham, waiting to be eaten as eagerly as the eater to eat it. Toby sat himself down ceremoniously and prepared to plunge right in.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hawthorne slipped one foot out of bed and then the other. She was singing cheerfully as she popped her dress over her head, snatched up her gardening apron and sheers, and prepared to race downstairs to eat some breakfast.

What an utterly gorgeous day! What made it particularly gorgeous was the fact that she had survived the party the night before without any serious mishap. Despite all the rumors to the contrary, she had seen nothing of Cook, the vaunted mistress of the Inn's kitchens, whom many had said was arriving from the west and would give Hawthorne a serious going over.

The doomsayers could talk all they wanted! Hawthorne had enoyed her visit with Uncle Merry. She had danced a bit, sung a bit, and eaten an enormous array of food. She had chatted about the news from Brandybuck Hall, and made several new friends. Altogether, it had been a most pleasurable evening. Even the habitual grumpiness of Ruby and Buttercup towards her had not been enough to spoil her good time.

Hawthorne plunged heedlessly into the Common Room, offering a hearty greeting to the barely recovered Toby who was seemingly trying to drown out the memory of the night before with several ample slices of crisped ham. Hawthorne decided she would finish breakfast and then help tidy up the outside flower beds on which more than one pair of feet had trampled the evening before. After that, she would make her way down to the Water, and return with a string of fresh fish for the kitchen. That evening she hoped to go visit Master Hardhammer who had temporarily taken up residence in the neighborhood of Hobbiton; Regin was performing odd jobs involving metalwork or masonry for which he was generously rewarded by the inhabitants of the Shire who were only too happy to have their burrows improved. Perhaps she could persuade him to make her a little trinket to send back home to her sister.

With a heart more cheerful than she had known in weeks, Mistress Brandybuck sat down to a large breakfast of scrambled eggs and fresh toast....