The White Horse Inn, Act III

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

(Welcome, welcome! Imladris, Melisil, Nilpaurion Felagund, Pyroclastic, Saraphim, The Perky Ent, and Will Witfoot, I offer a hearty welcome to you. Your spots on the Rohan lists are well-deserved indeed!)

Aylwen stood again, moving quickly to the door while voices fought to be heard over those of other patrons. Opening the door, Aylwen smiled at the sight before her. In fourteen years as Innkeeper, Aylwen had met many folk from town and from far away places who had come to stay at the Inn. Standing before her on the night of festivities was a small troop of minstrels from a nearby village along the Snowbourne. Three of them stood before the middle-aged Innkeeper. Aylwen said naught, but stepped out of the doorway and gestured for them to enter. Into the Inn came four minstrels to join in the festivities. Three men and one lady, with their instruments and happiness.

"Friends!" Aylwen hollered above the many voices. "It is my pleasure to introduce you to friends from one river valley, who have come to celebrate, play, and sing many songs for you. I do not wish to pester young Hearpwine into singing before his big day," Aylwen paused and smiled at the young man. "And I do not want to weary good Liornung all night. And so my friends have place here and songs to sing."

"Thank you, Misstress Aylwen," said the tallest of three men, bowing low and removing his dusty and ragged old cap. He gestured to his companions and they began to unpack their intruments and tools on one of the few empty tables. The tall man, with his tousled and whispy red-gold hair and enthusiastic grey eyes turned to address the entire Inn. "Now, Misstress Aylwen has done a fine job of intruducing us so far. I am called Eadman, and these are my good friends," Eadman gestured to two other men, one of average height and rather lanky, the other short and stocky. Eadman motioned to the young lady who was quietly tuning a lyre. "And this is my sister, Eadwen. Still, there is much more to us than just music. Throughout our years and especially after the war, we've been told and explained many a tale. Music and storytelling go hand-in-hand when we are around!"

Some of the patrons laughed or started commenting on this to their neighbor. Others, full of drink already, merely grunted or raised their mugs in acknowledgement.

"Our first tale is my favorite," Eadman began, laughing to himself as he recalled what he would say next. "An old friend came home after the war, and explained to any who had stayed behind what happened to those that never came home. One of the young men had gone off to fight in the war, and his troop of soldiers had set up camp in Anorien. It became home for weeks. It was said that when the young man could not handle the anxiety and worry brought on by impending battle, he would go and sit on one large rock protruding from the ground. He would watch the sun set, revelling in the constance and strength of something as simple as a stone. But when battle did come and friends did die, the young man was lost in battle and never returned. I do not know if it is true, but I was told that when the troops were returning home they found the rock that the lad used to sit on. When they got to it, the lad's dagger was at the foot of the rock, with dry blood all over the blade."

Some listeners nodded, intrigued. Others laughed and pushed the story away, but Eadman shrugged, letting the listener decide whether it was truth or myth. Instead, Eadman picked up a drum that had been kindly set out for him by his shorter companion. Eadman smiled and began, beating the drum slowly and producing a deep, somber sound. The short bard began to play a light melody on his wooden flute, and the lanky man sang while Eadman's sister strummed her instrument softly.

"Over the stone, the old gray stone,
Let me ponder here alone,
Through all weather we go together
Ancient stone, thou good old stone.
Of the many friends I've seen,
Thou the truest friend has been,
Some forget me, some have fled,
Some are false, and some are dead,
Changing never constant ever,
Still I find thee, dear old stone.

Standing here, thou silent stone,
What a world thou must have known!
Deeds of glory, lost to story,
Hast thou witness'd ancient stone.
Here beneath the grass, 'tis said,
Many warriors bones are laid,
Fighting for their land they fell,
None but thou can truly tell.
Secrets keeping, ever sleeping,
Dream'st thou of the past, old stone?"

(Ooc: These characters can be used by anyone if they wish. You can give names to the two men, and can have them play any song or tell any story in your posts. Have fun.)

[The Perky Ent]

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry!" Caraedry said as he looked at the man yelling at him. "Well, this one, Runes and Ruins, is fairly cheap. But this one, my bestseller, Magic and Mountains, is fairly expensive. But then, it is the best!"

"Well, let me see. Wow!" the man known as Taliesin said. "Is that...is that Moria?" Taliesin said. Moria was a rare sight these days, and Caraedry's issultrations were very real.

"Yes it is! It took 3 months to arrange a party to go through. Well, not really through, since the wizard, Gandalf the Grey as he was at the time, broke the bridge fighting the demon balrog." Caraedry said as he flipped a couple of pages to a beautiful picture of Gandalf raising his staff against the Balrog of Morgoth.

There was silence. Clearly, Taliesin was impressed. "I had to go to the shire for details. I arranged a meeting with Sam Gangee, a member of the fellowship of the ring.


"I'll take it!" Taliesin said as he grabbed the large book and tucked it under his arm. Strenge gave a huge sigh and then said, "Now that we've got that out of the way, let us all have a sit and let us make talk." Strenge said as he took a sip of his drink and sat down. "Well, actually, I reckon I'll need to find the Innkeeper for permission to sell my books here, so i better find him...her...whoever it happens to be."

"Ah don't worry about it Caraedry!" Strenge said as he patted Caraedry on the back. "No one notices!" As Caraedry continued to organize his books, he couldn't help but think what would happen if he got in trouble with the Innkeeper!

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry had nodded and clapped in time to the music as Hearpwine had danced with Mae and then she had had been deep in conversation with Osric when Aylwen's friends had begun to play. She had been readied, in part, for his story by Oin's effort to honour his people's contribution. She could see why Ruthven enjoyed this dwarf's company.

And then Osric's story had set her nerves aflame, for she had tred some of the game ground he had, not as fighter but as a healer. She had walked the battle site after the noise and fury and battle, amongst the moaning and crying and twitching bodies, holding hands with those who she could not help until they had passed beyond the circles of this world. Others she had seen removed from the filth and stench and bloody earth of the battlefield to the slow torment of the invalid's bed. Her hands, her aprons, her leggings and shoes had been stained as red as the angriest clouds at sunset after Helm's Deep and for many days. Many of those who had not died in battle succumbed in the after days to blood loss, fever, the swelling and pain of putrefaction. Some, some few, she had been able to help, like Osric, not to repair the damage of wound but to limit its effect. Yes, she understood very well the stiffness in his leg.

The close of Eadman's song brought her back to thoughts of the Inn, now so ably run by Aylwen. She looked around and noticed for the first time Taliesin and Strenge deep in conversation with one whose face was not known to her, an itinerant trader it seemed. A seller of wares, here in the Horse! She excused herself from Kransha's company, promising to return, and hastened over to the pedlar. His table was strewn with books, books the like of which was rarely seen in Edoras.

"We are crowded tonight, traveller, and there are many who would appreciate the rest of table and chair which your books cannot appreciate. How came you here to ply your trade in the Mead Hall? " Her words and her look were not unfriendly but not by any means were they soft. This trader would have some fast talking to do.

[The Perky Ent]

"I am very sorry...Bethberry? You see, my profession is...well...take a look" Caraedry said as he pulled out a book. "Ah, now those are mighty fine, but for tonight, could you put them away?" Bethberry said as Caraedry put back the books into his bag and left his bag on the table. "It's not forever. Just for tonight. If it clears up, feel free to display your wonderful books." Bethberry said, giving a cold yet comforting look. After a moment of silence, Bethberry left.

Caraedry could not have another drink. When he was offered on, his responce was always, "No, I can't. I must work!" So, after talking a little bit with Strenge and Taliesin. Caraedry left the Inn to get some fresh air. He took a walk all across Edoras, and as he was walking, he noticed a small girl brushing a pony. Caraedry felt a warmth in his heart as he asked, "Is this your horse?" The girl smiled and said, "It's mine. When I get older, my brother will teach me how to ride it!" Caraedry smiled, remembering a picture in one of his books, Hordes and Horses. It was a very small book, but in it, was a beautiful picture of Eowyn on a horse. The girl looked just like her.

As Caraedry continued his walk, he eventually left Edoras, and sat down on a field fairly close to it. The field was fresh and had a good view of the city, so Caraedry began to draw. First an outline, then detail, and then he shaded it in.

When Caraedry returned to the bar, he noticed that all his book were where they were, along with Strenge and Taliesin. "So, what have you two been up to?" Caraedry said with a grin. "Doing some background checking." Taliesin said. "How did these books come back?" Caraedry said with some suprise. "I talked to Bethberry!" Taliesin said. "Don't worry. You're now free to sell your books." Caraedry gave a great smile and then bought both Taliesin and Strenge another drink.

[ArwenBaggins]

Reya smiled half-heartedly and clapped as the minstrels danced in circles and played merry music. Her husband had died at the Battle of Pellenor Fields a countless number of days ago, yet her heart had never fully healed. Selinn was half of Reya's life, and once he was parted from her, she was not truly whole.

Her thoughts drifted back four years, to the day the men of Rohan left to discover their inevitable doom. Delaynn was just shy of her first birthday, but as talkitive a baby could be. As Selinn stood in the doorway of their modest home, Reya forced herself to keep a smile on her face. "I will return, anyway I can. We will rid this Middle-Earth of the Darkness. I love you Reya... and you Dela!" He kissed them both one last time, and then mounted his giant steed. As the caravan of warriors rode past, he held up his hand in farewell and disapeared in the mass of large horse bodies.

Word was sent after the gruesome battle that Selinn and dozens of others from Rohan had died in the battle- including the King. "Where is his body?" Reya choked that misty morning, to the guard at her door. The tall blonde man told her that a number of valiant soldiers could not be found admist all of the other rotting carcasses and torn flesh.

Delaynn, her young daughter, twirled and threw petals of flowers at her feet, snapping her back to reality. "Mama, I'm gonna go look at Mister Caraedry's books, okay? Maybe I'll find one dat Papa will read to me when he gets home," The girl was completely oblivious to the fact that her father was never going to come home. She jingled the few coins her mother had gave her and hopped over toward the book-seller.

"Mister, do you have any books that I could read? I'm almost five!" Her dark golden waves bounced in the thick air as she looked up at the brown-haired man. Reya smiled from the booth and scooted toward the edge of her seat, watching her daughter intently. After Selinn died, Delaynn was all she had left.

[The Perky Ent]

In the middle of his conversation with Taliesin and Strenge, Caraedry noticed a cute, little girl walk up to him. "Mr., do you have any books that I could read? I'm almost five!" the girl said, hopping up and down. "Well hello. What's your name?" Caraedry said as he got on his knees to level with her. "Delaynn" the girl said in a tender voice. "Well Delaynn, as a matter of fact, I think I have an excellent book for you!"Caraedry said as he pulled his bag off the table and grabbed a small book. On the cover of the book said, A Child's Guide to Middle Earth. "Thank you Mr. Caraedry! Thank you thank you thank you!" Delaynn said as she paid Caraedry and hopped off.

As the noise of the Inn returned to a jubilant hum, Bethberry spied the book seller, returnd to hawk his wares once again. Bethberry was rather taken aback at his audacity; she knew Aylwen was busy elsewhere, so she addressed the fellow once again.

"I suppose you are accustomed to stealing market stalls, Mr Caraedy?" she observed.

"Well, um, I .... " stammered the man, frowning and making questioning looks towards Taliesin.

Bethberry waited patiently, watching the man's face intently until a slow red spread up his cheeks.

"There are good folk here who are in need of food and rest and relaxation. They aren't keen to be inveigled or dunned out of their money. Perhaps you did not understand this point earlier."

"Um, well, ma'am, um perhaps not. But I do now!" he recovered with an attempt at a grin and charming way.

"Good, then we can strike a bargain. There's room over in the word hoard, an extra table. Three silver pieces will give you use of it for tonight and tomorrow."

She held her hand out to him in a way that made clear he should accept or else find himself and his books out on the street.

"Could I offer you goods in exchange in place of coin? I've just the very book which would suit such a distinquished ..." his voice trailed off as he watched her raise an eyebrow and lower her smile into a firmer, determined pose.

He quickly mulled over his options and then ...

[ArwenBaggins]

OoC:
Bêthberry, I am extremely sorry. Seeing that this was sort of a long-term 'argument', I thought that maybe Perky had your permission to do the whole rant thing. I am willing to edit this post as you see fit.

IC:

Dela smiled and hugged the book close to her chest, jumping into the booth and swinging her legs beneath the table. She smiled to her mother and started fingering through pages, looking at all of the pictures and maps. "But where are we suppost to sit? You can't just let people take up space with books!" Suddenly, a scream was heard and the Inn door slammed.

Reya felt her daughter scrambling at the foot of her brown skirt beneath the table, and then all of a sudden had a girl sitting in her lap. "Mommy, why's ever'one gotta be so mean ta Mister Caraedry? He gave me this purty book, an' he's really nice!" Dela ran her pudgy fingers absent-mindedly through her mother's dishwater blonde hair. "I dunno why people don' like books!" Reya shrugged and watched sadly as Caraedry stomped out of the door.

The young girl had an utter fascination toward books. No, she could not read the History of Middle-Earth (or anything with more than five words on a page, for that matter), but she loved to sit near the fire or under a tree and look at the pictures and practice new words. "Mommy? Can I go outside and see what's the matter with Mister Caraedry? I promise I'll be real quick an' I won't let anyone 'nap me," she looked to Reya with bright brown eyes, which painfully reminded her of Selinor. "Please? Please Mommy? Or... you could come too if'n ya want to..." The girl hopped from her mother's lap and kept begging to find the bookseller.

"All right. Come on Delaynn. I'll stand inside and make sure everything's okay from the window," Reya stood as well and lead her daughter to the window.

Dela grinned wide and pushed the large door with all of her might. She saw Caraedy standing a few feet from the Inn, muttering angrily to himself. She had never seen the usually-friendly man so angry. "Mis... Mister Caraedry? Is everything... okay? I'm really sorry that Bêthberry won' letcha put your books on the table...," She stood behind the man, waiting for a hopefully-calm answer.