The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[CaptainofDespair]

As Myrddin began inquiring about his myriad of adventures, the smile that had set on his lips, twisted into a dark, sullen grimace. His eyes seemed to fade out, as if the fire of life had gone out. His mind drifted back through time, whilst his body remained in the inn. Suddenly, his dark figure shuddered. Slowly, the light rekindled in his eyes, as if an old spark was giving its last efforts towards the flame, and his mind returned to the present. At last, he started to utter the first words that would begin his tale.

"I shall tell you a tale of my time in Gondor. It was only a mere three years ago, maybe four. I was much younger looking than you see me here. I had not been traveling for a year or two, and I had managed to get my life in some semblance of order. I had been struggling trying to find any form of work that I might be suited to. I had passed between multiple crafts, a few weeks as a blacksmith, three months as a carpenter, and I even spent a month or two as a fisherman. Needless to say, I did not take to those very well. But at last, when all my hope had run out, in desperation I signed up to join a mercenary band that was heading out to Mordor, to the Morgul Vale."

He paused, and took a drink from his mug of ale. He then stared up at the ceiling, and as if in a trance, he mind shifted back from the present, to those years in Gondor. Myrddin could not help but cast her gaze on him, as he sat motionless, almost in a state of comatose. For a few moments, he sat like this. But finally, his tense bosy eased, and his mind returned to the world of the present once more. Again, he moved his lips to speak, and continue his dreadful tale.

"The mercenaries I had signed on with had been planning somewhat of a sporting event. They had planned to go to the Morgul Vale, and hunt any remnant orcs that remained. For their trouble, the Gondorian army was willing to pay them in recompense, depending on how many orcs were slain. Each members of the 30 man hunting expedition was entitled to at least small bag of coins, as this was the upfront cost the Army had paid just for starting out. And so we prepared for our trip into the heart of death."

[Kitanna]

Peony was happy to see that someone had taken an interest in her. She took a seat across from the woman and smiled, shaking her hand. "I am Peony and Miss Takua I am so happy you invited me over."

Peony looked over to Deva who didn't even seem to notice she had left. "My companion is as grumpy as ever tonight. Sleeping all day was not enough for him I suppose." She paused and smiled at Takua, "But please, tell me of yourself."

[Firefoot]

They were interrupted once more by the woman named Twylight, who had come to say good bye. They all stood up to bid her their farewells, and Lily and Twylight ended up hugging each other. When she and her friend - Lily noticed there was a man with her now - had left, they all sat back down, and somehow Blanco had managed to get on the other side of her. Mira good-naturedly took the seat he had been using.

Wanting to make Blanco feel welcomed back into the group, she turned to him and said, "Now what was it that you had in mind for tomorrow afternoon?" It then took a good deal of will power on her part not to turn back around and look at Posco again.

[Sapphire_Flame]

Peony looked over to the dwarf, who didn't even seem to notice she had left. "My companion is as grumpy as ever tonight. Sleeping all day was not enough for him I suppose." Takua gave a half smile; her own father was much the same way. He could have slept, non-stop, through the entire War, and still woken as grumpy as a troll. "But please," Peony went on, "tell me of yourself."

"I am a Ranger." Peony's eyes lighted excitedly. "I reported to Minas Anor for a short time, then returned here with a handful of others. The northern kingdom must not be completely unguarded. But I am only passing through this place..." Takua thought this a very uninteresting account of herself, but Peony seemed intrigued enough by it. Takua, herself, however, had never been adept at divulging personal information readily, and so turned the conversation away from herself again.

"Now, tell me something of yourself, Miss Peony."

Basiest now sat slumped in the corner of the Green Dragon. Despite the pub practically overflowing with customers, a sort of ring of space had formed around him, and he sat in silence, concentrating on his bitter pint, still practically full.

The long fingers of his hand reached up and delicately fingered the ring through the top of his left ear. The fresh piercing was still sore, marking him out as his father's son, as one of the family.

"You're a man now," his father had growled to him. "You must go into the world and make your living like a man. When you're thirty, and you return, you'll have a wife and three strapping boys." Basiest was the youngest of five children, and thought his older sister Jean had more chance of getting a wife and three children than he did. Every day that brought him closer to his thirtyeth, he became more and more worried about the expectations his father had. His eldest brother Lional had already returned with a wife and children, his second brother Markan would be back in two weeks, Jean didn't even have to go and Arbon...Arbon had been excused, being lame in one leg and blind in one eye. Which left himself, Basiest, to fufil the family tradition.

It wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so...so...socially stunted. A severe bout of illness had stopped him going to school until he was 13, and being weak with a lazy eye did nothing for his friendship making skills. A daily dose of bullying didn't help, and when his father decided to send him to an all-boys school for some 'toughening up', it had been the last straw. Basiest had been left with insecurities galore and a shy streak a mile wide.

The bubbles gently rose and settled in his drink and Basiest tore his eyes away from the soothing hazel liquid to flick a timid gaze over the crowd. Someone was just getting up to sing, two people were having an intense conversation by the bar and several delicate elf maidens sat round a table laughing, their even white teeth sparkling in the lamplight. The shy boy slumped furthur into his seat. It was hopeless. Unless there was a way of marrying and having children with someone without getting within five square miles of them, he had better just go and find the nearest cliff and throw himself off it, because he hated to think what his father would do if he returned, single, childless and even more...

His thoughts snapped suddenly, as a woman caught his eye. Immediatley, he gazed down at the table, flushing a deep scarlet. A moment later, he dared lift his gaze, and there she was, twinkling at him over her drink. Should he go up to her? Dare he approach her?

[Nurumaiel]

She was speaking to him! Blanco felt the color rising to his cheeks and his mind went blank. He could think of nothing to say. He didn't want to do anything the following afternoon; he merely wished to sit with Lily and gaze in unrestrained admiration. He did gaze at her now, but realized with a flush that she was still waiting for him to answer. He bowed his head and said humbly, "Miss Lily, I do not know what the others in this company would enjoy, so I would beg one of them to answer instead, or perhaps an answer from your own sweet lips."

There was a slight pause, and in this pause Marcho, along with Bingo, approached the table. Marcho had found that in the absence of Marin he had nothing to do, and saw that it was beginning to grow dark. The dread aunt would be fierce enough at their late homecoming without prolonging it any longer. He let his two hands fall on Posco's shoulders and, assuming an air of authority, glanced about the table and said, "I apologize, sirs and misses, that we must leave you, but the aunt of these two lads will be looking for them."

Lily's face fell but she smiled gracefully as she stood. Marcho, feeling in a considerable good mood after Marin's company and Twylight's smile, told her in a comforting tone, "Don't fret yourself, Miss Lily. We'll be back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow morning," Posco murmured shyly. "We can ride then."

Marcho eyebrows raised slightly but he stepped forward with the practiced ease of a gentlehobbit and took Lily's hand, sweeping a gallant bow and bidding her goodnight. The same he did to Mira. With Iadarion he was more reserved but still civil. After all, one could not be too friendly with the Big Folk. Yet when Iadarion spoke in his cheery manner Marcho could not keep back a smile. "Posco, Blanco, before you say goodbye here I would have you go bid a good night to Toby," he said. Posco and Blanco complied, the former speaking shyly and the latter boldly laughing and clapping Toby on the shoulder as a farewell.

Posco and Blanco said goodbye to Mira as gallantly as Marcho and Blanco more gallantly for he kissed her hand, though Posco was too shy to do anything of the sort. Blanco found he was too short to clap Iadarion's shoulder, so he contented himself with shaking his hand vigorously. Posco had turned to Lily.

"It will be tomorrow morning, then," she said.

"Yes," he replied. "As soon as breakfast is over I will be out by the stable with my pony." He paused, and then put out his hand, saying, "Good night, Lily."

She hesitated one moment, took his hand, but also leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek. He blushed furiously. "Sweet dreams to you, Posco," she said. She turned to Blanco and kissed his cheek as well, and he also blushed.

After these farewells Marcho bid Bingo start out on the road with the twins, and he remained behind with Lily. He stood before her a long while, and then took her hand and put a scrap of parchment in it. "Read this," he said. She began to unfold it, but he stopped her. "Read it after we're gone." She stared at him in puzzlement but nodded. He bowed once again to all in the room, and then departed.

[Bombadil]

Iadarion sat back and watched as his new friends either left or made plans for doing such. He was still in a slight daze from the kiss on his round cheek he received form Twylight. He sighed and said to himself,

"Oh well, it seems that just as our paths have met they diverge towards blue sky and green grass upon different countrysides. I do not think I shall return home just yet; perhaps I will go boating along the Withywindle- just as my father did many years ago."

Iadarion looked at Lily, the sole person left whom he had met- one who didn't enjoy his presence particularly. He smiled at her and said, "be not amiss, for in front of you sits the river and the forest! I say farewell to all!"

Iadarion with his spontaneity got up and left waving goodbye to those who did not care...

[Firefoot]

Lily stood for a while, staring at the door which Posco and his friends had left by. She seemed to remember herself after a while, and realized the envelope Marcho had given her was still in her hand. She wondered what on earth Marcho could have to say to her that he had not wanted her to read just yet. She placed the letter in her apron pocket, and decided she would open it later, in the privacy of her room.

Iadarion had left, she noticed, and Mira was now the only one left of their small group. Lily yawned. She remembered how late she had stayed up last night. She had no desire to remain downstairs and chat with Mira; she wanted to sleep.

"I believe that I too shall bid you a good night," said Lily. "I am quite tired, as I believe that you are as well, after last night." Mira nodded. "Good night, then," she said. Lily turned around towards the stairs across the room, and in doing so she caught yet another glance of the doorway. She smiled happily, somewhat dazedly, but she was able to make her way through the Common Room without meriting any notice. All she could think of was the last look Posco had given her, after she had kissed him. She was blissfully happy. I wonder if this is what love feels like...

She made it to her room, and prepared for bed. As she was doing so, she remembered the letter Marcho had given her. She pulled it out of her pocket, and carefully undid the seal. She was met with a piece of parchment full of bold, neat script. She scanned the letter before settling down to read it. It seemed that he had written of Posco and Blanco to her. She frowned, and warily set in to read the letter.

To Miss Lily of Bree; staying at the Green Dragon,
Greetings,
I hope that I am not to be too bold here, but having been put as Posco Brandybuck's guardian while he is away from his parents compells me to write to you and speak with you on a very delicate subject. In short, I have gathered from the way the two of you look at each other that you are beginning to have feelings for each other. That is well and good; Posco's parents would find you, as I have, a very fine young lass. However if you seriously intend to one day marry him, you may find it difficult because of his shyness. Again, I hope I do not speak too boldly, for you have only known each other an evening. Yet my mother once told me that love works fast; one will know who they love in the space of the minute. What takes time is finding if they really do love this one and want to spend their entire lives with them. If way you look at Posco can give any hint, you are beginning to consider this.

If you want to marry Posco, which I don't say you do but suspect you will sooner or later by the way you look at him, I think you might appreciate some advice. I do not say I know him very well but you must agree I know him better than you do. He is shy. I think you know this much. It will make things difficult, and so you must be patient. When the appropriate time comes for him to propose he will not do so. He'll want to, I reckon, but he'll be too shy. You must take every opportunity to be alone with him or he'll hide within himself and never speak. You might have seen this. When there is no other company you must be bold with him. If you're both reserved you'll never get anywhere. Posco will begin to wonder if you actually love him or not. I haven't much room on this parchment so I must move on, but if you want further advice you must ask me tomorrow.

Yet I must speak to you about Blanco. He's fallen fast in love with you, and he'll die trying to win you. I don't know how it happened for he had always seemed so in love with a lass back in Buckland, but it did happen and he's completely forgotten her. He'll ask you to marry him any day. He's a reckless, bold lad and it won't matter that he hasn't known you very long. He could ask you anytime tomorrow, or perhaps the next day. But I beg you, for Posco's sake, if you refuse Blanco do so in a way that does not put too much focus on Posco. Blanco is a very jealous type and while I doubt he would harm his twin I am not positive. It would, at any rate, spoil the wonderful relationship they have had.

I hope I have given you no offense by this letter, and I hope also I have not been too forward in speaking of love and marriage. I know a good deal about it even though I have never been in love myself. I am attempting to help both you and Posco through difficulties you might face with each other and with Blanco.

And so I am,
Yours sincerely,
Marcho

Lily was touched, amazed, and slightly embarrassed at the letter all at the same time. Her opinion of Marcho was changed a fair way for the better, and though she was still a tad bit upset at him for his treatment of Posco earlier, she understood him much better now. She was honored by some of his comments, and grateful that he had taken the time to write these things, both concerning Posco and Blanco. She knew that the information would be crucial in her activities with the twins. She would need to talk to Marcho sometime tomorrow, and hopefully before she met up with Blanco. She scanned the letter again, and this time the one thing that should have been most obvious in the first reading became readliy apparent: Marriage. She supposed that, though it had never been a conscious thought, it had been at the back of her mind for a while.

She soon fell asleep after she got in bed: a true sign of her tiredness, for there were many various emotions and thoughts all swirling around in her head, and all of them evoked by three certain hobbits named Marcho, Blanco, and Posco.

[Gorothlammothiel]

Soronume pondered the thought that upon his current visit to the Green Dragon Inn, the bar seemed to be occupied more so of Hobbits than of any previous occaision. That, of course, didn't seem strange to him considering he was in the Shire, but there did seem to be a curious lack of his own people tonight.

Aman was once again at the bar, rushing around as he could remember he doing so. He caught her sight briefly in which time he held up his glass, gesturing for another drink. She nodded and Soronume knew it would not be long before she would serve him, just as soon as she had dealt with several other, characters, at the bar.

Soronume sat at the bar quite content for a few moments, then he realised he had not yet removed his cloak. A rush of embarrassment waved over him, how rude to still be wearing such a soiled and tattered overcoat in the finest inn he had had the pleasure of visiting. What would Aman and the others running about the inn think of him? He stood calmly, though with a hidden urgency and removed his cloak, laying it across his lap as he sat back down. Taking the cloak from the back of his neck allowed a little more of his dark hair to fall about his shoulders. It partially covered his face in shadow.

Brushing his left hand over his lap he felt the marks left on the cloak from its wear and the battles it had seen. His fingers met a tear and he slid them through carefully to inspect the damage. As he did so, he remembered his travels that had earnt him such markings. Soronume sang, quietly;

"Walking paths seldom trodden
Wandering forests unknown by man,
Telling tales of myths forgotten
Strength in both mind and hand.

Living a life of solitude
Travelling by the day and dark,
A bright light shone from within
But lonely forever in his heart.

Cursed not with weary feet
Only with a lasting hope,
Navigating by the stars
His intuition led him home."

Soronume looked up and wiped his face with his hands, though no tears had departed, those words had stirred up old memories within him. Walking paths seldom trodden? That was not far from his own truth now. Soronume hoped that his fate was not the same as the end of that particular tale.

Aman seemed to be on her way towards Soronume. He wasn't sure whether she had heard him singing, but his song was not new. Had she heard it, she may have remembered it from a long time ago. Soronume looked down the bar. A maiden was looking in his direction. Perhaps he had been heard?