The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

He took her hands with an odd mixture of feelings, but the smile on his face betrayed none of his ambivalence. All Aman saw in that countenance was the joy of two friends meeting once again. He looked at her closely and noted that while she played at being the same woman he had come to know in the weeks after the fire, there had been changes in her since. Something had happened that had altered her perceptions of herself. Fitting he thought, that she should alter in her own regard, as I have. He wondered if the alteration had been a happy one.

None of this appeared in his face or manner as he answered Aman. “Indeed we do!” and he laughed in an easy manner. “First you must tell me how business has been for the Inn, and of my old friend Toby.”

At first the woman refused to answer and pressed Snaveling for more information of his travels, but the man remained steadfast in his desire to hear of the doings and happenings of the Shire. Bursting with impatience, the innkeeper allowed herself to be directed to a chair by the fire where she ran through, as quickly as she could, all that had happened at the Inn since he had gone away. About herself, however, she remained silent, a fact that did not pass Snaveling unnoticed. When she finished with the gossip she once more pressed him for information. “Where have you been?” she began. “Did you see the King, and how did he greet you? I can tell by looking at you that it must have gone well.” The unspoken question was clear: what did Elessar Telcontar do to you for your attempted murder of his kinswoman?

Snaveling’s voice was grave as he replied. “I do not know if it ‘went well’ for very little in this world does, but the result of our meeting was…satisfactory. Roa presented me to the King as I was. She related to him both my crimes and the claim that I made by virtue of my birthright. At first I was greatly afraid of him, for he was stern and mighty, and I was surrounded upon all sides by his people. Their attitude toward me was clear from the moment they heard what Roa had to say, and had it not been for the King I daresay I would not be here with you now. But he stilled them and descending from his throne took me in his arms and welcomed me as a brother, exclaiming that as the descendent of Ar-Pharazôn I was like him of the royal line of Numenór and therefore to be honoured as his kinsman.” He fell silent at the memory of that moment, for the surprise of it had never quite worn thin. “He then grew stern once more, however, and turning to the assembly he said, ‘I have welcomed this Man into my house and I accept his claim to the throne of Numenór as valid. Do not think, however, that by this I mean to relinquish the right by which I hold lordship of the Numenórean kingdom in Middle-Earth, for that was established of old as a separate domain by Elendil and his heirs. This Man holds the true title to the land that is lost beneath the waves. For that we must show him the honour that is his due.’ When I heard that,” Snaveling continued, chuckling lightly, “I nearly fell over with the terror of it all. Me a King?” and his laugh grew, “Me? A vagabond rogue from a lost corner of the world who had nothing to his name but the insults and disregard of all whom I’d met…it was preposterous. And yet, something in the way the King spoke of me made it real. I suddenly found myself in the midst of a people who regarded me as a great and powerful Man. Oh, they did not trust me, and I daresay there are many still who would be happy if I were to fall off my horse and break my neck, but so great is their love of their King that they were willing to accept his judgment in this.

“When the King spoke next it was to me, but he cast his voice so that all could hear. ‘But not for this alone were you brought before me,’ he said. ‘The crimes you have committed against my kinswoman Roa must be redressed.’ I trembled then, for I feared that he had recognized my claim only as a cruel prelude to my destruction. But the King is both wise and merciful – how greatly do I lament the words that I have spoken against him in the past, ignorant as they were. Rather than ordering my instant death he proposed an exchange of sorts. In return for remitting my sentence, I was to lay down all claims that I had to the throne of Gondor. I am sure that he did not fear any rebellion that I might pose, but I could tell that he wanted the matter of my lineage and of my claim settled finally, so that none would doubt where I stood. I do not want to be King, so I happily agreed to the terms and forsook my claim as loudly and as elegantly as I could.”

Aman could no longer contain her amazement. “So you are free, then!” she said. “The King has forgiven you!”

“Yes, he has forgiven me, and more. I told him of my people and of the difficult lives we lead upon the edges of his realm. He took pity on us and granted us in perpetuity the right to pursue our game, and live our own lives on the lands that are our own. That very day he dispatched ambassadors to my people with messages of good will and allegiance. At first, they were distrustful and wary, but when the sent envoys to the King I was able to meet with them and convince them of the King’s sincerity. There is still no great love between my people and the Gondorians – and with the Rohirrim, I am afraid, there remains great enmity – but my people now have a recognized land of their own, where they are free to live free from interference.”

“So all your dreams have come true,” Aman said. “Why then are you here? Why have you come back?” There was a note in her voice that caught Snaveling’s attention, and at it his heart failed somewhat.

He became reluctant and quiet, seeking comfort in the fire as he searched his mind for a response. Aman pressed him again. Not meeting her eyes, Snaveling said to the flames, “I have come in search of Roa. The King sent her back to the North soon after our arrival in Minas Tirith, and there has been no word from her in months. My heart fears what might have happened to her. I cannot return to my people until I have found her…”

[Nurumaiel]

The company walked in relative silence, and at Blanco started up a lively, pointless, chattering conversation, a conversation restricted entirely to himself. Lily and Posco listened, and Hal began to walk faster. Peony lengthened her stride almost to a run to keep up with him, and when they reached the corner of the Inn he began to run, and with a little gasp of surprise she followed him. When he came to the kitchen door he went in. Peony tried to smooth her somewhat ruffled skirts and said, 'Whatever are you doing, Hal?'

He looked desperately at her, the look of a little boy who knows he's done something wrong but saw no way to avoid it. He put a finger to his lips, and after a few moments they heard the loud voice of Blanco. 'Why, wherever have they gone? I'm sure they went this way! Why, what could have happened here? How could they have vanished?'

'Perhaps they went into the kitchen?' It was Posco's voice that suggested this.

'Impossible,' said Blanco, briskly dismissing the idea. 'Everybody knows that nobody is allowed to go into the kitchen except the Inn staff. Those who do - ' and his voice took on expression of mystery and dread ' - will regret it all their lives. So!' His voice returned to its usual jolly tone. 'Perhaps they went around the other corner. Let's go see!' Footsteps and voices alike slowly faded away, and Peony turned once again to Hal, her eyes demanding explanation.

'I'm sorry,' said he. 'I'm more than delighted to see your brothers, and to meet Miss Lily, but I was talking with you and I really must finish.'

'What more can be said? I tell you, Hal, I will not marry you until my father gives his consent. I've told you this nearly every day since you first asked me for my hand. I have not changed. True, I love you, but without my father's consent I will not and could not marry you. Please don't worry about it any further.'

'I can't help it,' said Hal miserably, and he opened the kitchen door. They stepped out into the sunshine again, but they went in the opposite direction that the others had gone. Peony walked in sorrowful silence at Hal's side, pitying him, as well as herself, with all her heart. He had not yet spoken in the beautiful manner he often did, but when he did he would be considered drunk by those more sensible and wiser hobbits. Oh, it was bitter that a hobbit could not appreciate beauty, and speak of the sunsets and rises, and of the water rippling in the pond, without everyone thinking he had taken too much to drink. What a foolish place the world was, that something so trivial as this would keep them apart!

But it did not matter much. She trusted that if it were meant for her to be his wife, some change would come across her father. She only hoped that no change would come upon Hal. She would never wish him to cease in those beautiful speeches he would make.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Fáinu, where do you plan on going when you decide to leave The Shire? Will you go back home or wander around searching for some sort of meaning." For some reason Adu was asking herself the exact same questions.

Fáinu looked up at Adu, "I will perhaps return to Rivendel. Although, I have little to do there, save perhaps ride abroad with Ellodan's company. but I have not done that for many a long year."

Memories began to come back to him. The house of his brothers, welcoming him, the rejecting him. If only they knew me, then, perhaps, I would not feel so unwanted. Maybe, now I know their true faces.

"However," he continued at last, "If you so wish, I could stay here, at least until word comes of Hama. Perhaps then we can keep each other company." If anything, the latter was what he wished for, and had wished for since he was left alone in Dale. Few companions he had had, and walking for long seems hard on the feet, if you are alone.

He thought of times passed when he was at peace, seeing his future, wishing revenge on Smaug, then, he waited too long, and he was left cold and bitter. Not since that day in Dale had he been truly happy, until now. Adu was the only Elf, (Save Elrond) who had listened with compassion to his story and seemed to understand the trauma he went through. This made him feel much more at ease, he felt as if a large weight of regret had been lifted and he smiled.

"How dose one see the future?" he said, almost to himself, but he knew that Adu heard him, "before he left, Elrond said something to me, 'Fáinu, Smaug may be dead, and not by your hand, be not sour. When you can see the future, you will know that it happened for the greater good.', Still I cannot see what he meant. Perhaps, he means that when all has happened, I shall look back on it in retrospect. Who knows."

He knew he was being hypocritical here, he told her not to worry about such things, and here he was rambling on about it. He shook his head and looked back at Adu.

"Ah, don't listen to me," he said, "I go on about my problems, because I have a constant reminder." He refrained his glace from his right hand and instead looked Adu in the eyes and smiled.

Fáinu glanced out side when he thought he head hoof steps, but it was his imagination. He considered getting another drink, but did not; he felt that he should stay with Adu so that she did not feel that he was avoiding her, which he was not.

[Amanaduial the archer]

The words mocked Aman and she felt as if a hand had reached into her chest and squeezed roughly at her heart. From the way Snaveling avoided her eyes, she guessed he knew what the effect would have been, although his face was impassive as he stared into the fire. Aman felt her throat stifled, but forced herself to speak, her voice as calm as his face was expressionless.

"Roa..." She felt a choke coming and stopped herself, clearing her throat and looking away, before standing, straightening herself fastidiously as she tried again. "Roa? Strange, that she did not linger longer in Gondor longer. But Elessar," she continued quickly before Snaveling could comment. "Elessar has been on the throne for thirteen years, he knows what he is doing - did he not welcome you back?"

Still chattering to push away the lump in her throat, Aman began to move away, her hands fiddling with anything, everything: stroking at her dress, flattening down her hair, running her long fingers over the surface of the wooden tables. Turning brightly to Snaveling, she smiled a wide, fake smile. "You will be wanting some food, of course, you must be tired after that ride." It was statement more than a question and Aman immediately turned away towards the kitchen, her face beginning to crumple a little, the cracks appearing in her mask.

"Aman." The word, and the hand on her arm, stopped Aman, but she didn't turn immediately. Rebuking herself inwardly for letting her charade slip, the Innkeeper turned to the man, her face expectant. Snaveling's eyes darted questioningly over her face, but they were all that showed any concern or...any emotion.

He feels nothing...

"And you, Aman, how are you?"

The woman laughed merrily, although maybe it was a tad shrill. "Me, Snaveling?" she chattered. Why, I told you all about what we have been doing, while you teased me by withholding-"

Her merry dialogue was cut off as Snaveling interrupted, his voice still low. "That is not what I asked, Aman. How are you - not Aman the Innkeeper, you: Aman. You did not tell me about her."

He feels nothing...

A faint swell of bitterness rose up, buoying the lump in Aman's throat and swaying her judgement. She smiled again, overly brightly once more, but her eyes showed something else as they met with Snaveling's. Her voice was mocking and jovial, or so it seemed - there was something else underneath, undertones in voice also to be found in it's words. She looked straight at Snaveling as she spoke. "Ah, but master Snaveling - it is only Aman the Innkeeper who you came for."

With that she turned, dignified and holding herself well, forcing herself with every inch of self restraint not to run or move faster at all. But as she did so, she stumbled on a chair leg and her face cracked slightly. Disregarding it, she ignored the pain welling up in her leg and forced herself into the kitchen, where Cook sat, and stumbled to the sink, head hanging over it as she squeezed her eyes impossibly tight in a subdued, silent grimace of pain, pain from inside - the worst kind. Behind her, she heard a chair scrape and realised that Cook was still hear, and for the first time since she had come to the Inn felt spiteful thoughts against the old hobbit woman: Is there nowhere in this blessed place where I can escape the interfering halflings?! Habit quickly knocked this away, shocked, but there was a part of her that didn't give a damn about habit though: a new part, a part which had been awakened with new vigour, and energy, and hope for it's life - a part which had been struck and sent sprawling in the mud of rejection when Snaveling had said his true purpose.

I am a pretty, bright domestic bird: caged, ornamental, she sings her bright, ridiculous song, over and over and over, while she listens to the word of the master who feeds her titbits while she falls in love with his caress.

And begins to hate his sweetheart.

Aman felt her hands tighten, spreading themselves out so hard that they shook. "I...I am fine thank you, Vinca. Just a...a pain." Out of the sight of Cook, Aman's mouth twisted wryly at the truth of the statement that the hobbit wouldn't realise. "Could you do me a favour please? There is a woman outside who wanted a room for the night..."

"Of course, of course, dear, take your time." The chair creaked and the sound of the old hobbit bustling across the stone floor was heard. She patted Aman considerately on the lower back, but that was all: she had been around young people and Big Folk enough to know that there are times when their mysterious ways simply convey a need to be alone. The old gentlehobbit had never understood it herself but, ee, there was nowt as strange as folk, as her old gaffer had used to say. As Aman listened to Cook wandering off purposefully into the Common Room, her fists began to clench: as the door shut, her hands slammed down against the rims of the sink on either side of the basin, her face tight as she struck back the tears. The pain was a distraction, but not enough to mean anything. Her eyes strayed to the knife and her face hardened...

And so the litte bird begins to hate his sweetheart...

...but she stopped herself immediately, lifting a hand to smack herself suddenly across the face. No. Not that far. Never that far.

He was a man, just a man; had she not seen hundreds, of every race, pass through this Inn? They came, they went, as everyone did; no matter who came, they always inevitably left.

"Everyone leaves me..." Aman whispered softly, sadly, melancholy seeping through the anger. Her green eyes sparkled and as she closed them a tear peered out before launching itself down her reddened cheek. Flinging her head back, she inhaled sharply, blinking away the tears: this would not do, this would never do.

"Stop being stupid, you silly girl," she snapped to herself quietly. Crossing briskly to where the plates of supper were laid out, she selected one with great subconcious care and, as an afterthought, poured a generous cup of black tea with it. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the Common Room door open with her foot and pasted the smile back on.

"Supper is served, ladies and gentlemen," she announced clearly. The ringleader. Trapped in her own circus.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger’s tray was empty of food. She stood at a distance from the table Cook had set her to serve and nodded her head in a satisfied manner. The Hobbits who had been working on the cottage were tucking into their heaping plates of food with the great gusto of men who have worked hard all day. Only a few short phrases passed between them, the words slurred slightly round mouthfuls of food. ‘Taters, please!’ And ‘Jam, here, mate!’ Those asking for thirds already, she could see easing undone the top button of their waistbands.

Ferdy’s eyes were on his plate as she glanced toward him. A smile came unbidden to her lips as she recalled him standing up to help her unload the platters of food from the serving tray. She’d thanked him politely and he’d mumbled some response. The eyes of the other lads slid from him to her in a knowing way, and the two nearest him had nudged him none too discretely as he sat back down. She’d almost giggled, but her glance had caught the considering look that Andwise was giving her. She gasped a bit, then red faced at his perusal of her, turned and made her way back toward the kitchen.

Cook was just coming out to the Common Room and Ginger raised her empty tray to her and nodded at the kitchen door. She only pushed the door open a slight bit when she heard someone’s soft, sad voice whisper a few words.

‘Everyone leaves me . . .’ It was the Innkeeper, her cheeks ruddy, a single tear hanging precipitously from her jaw. Ginger backed out and closed the door softly, but not before she heard Aman say aloud, ‘Stop being stupid, you silly girl . . .’ Uncertain what to do, Ginger backed away further and found herself at the bar. She put her serving tray atop it, and looked about, perplexed.

Aman came sailing through the door, then, and into the Common Room. Plate of food in one hand, mug of tea in the other. And a smile pasted on her face which did not reach out to enliven the rest of her features.

Ginger spied Cook, just handing over the care of a lodger wanting to be shown her room to one of the servers. Sidling up near to where Cook stood, Ginger waited for her to finish with the lodger and turn her attention to her.

Cook turned her broad face to the girl with a questioning look. ‘Well . . . problems?’

‘Oh not with me, Miz Bunce,’ Ginger said shaking her head. ‘But I think there’s something wrong going on with Miz Aman.’ She nodded her head toward where the Innkeeper sat, pushing her food about on her plate with her fork. The scene she had witnessed just moments before came spilling out.

‘Is there something we should do?’

[Firefoot]

Lily was thankful that Blanco was leading the way, because that way he could not see the small, amused smile she wore. She was almost positive that Hal and Peony had not simply turned a different way from them, but had slipped off by themselves. Hal had just arrived, after all: they probably wanted some time alone, and they had been interrupted previously. Yet Blanco did not seem to understand that, so she - and Posco, she supposed, at least a little bit - humored him, following him around the corner of the Inn.

“Not here either,” said Blanco, a stumped expression on his face. “That’s odd. They couldn’t have gone that far.”

“No, they couldn’t have,” replied Lily absently. Slipping off... that’s not such a bad idea, except it would leave Blanco by himself. Maybe later. “Maybe they went back inside.”

“I don’t think so,” said Blanco. He was clearly thinking hard. “Do you think they might have gotten down to the stables? Why don’t we go see.” Lily shook her head slightly, but followed along anyway, if for no other reason than because the fresh air felt good after an afternoon inside. As they walked, Blanco picked up where he had left off in his previous monologue. Lily kept an interested look on her face, though in truth she drifted off, still wondering how she might get some time alone with Posco later that evening. She wasn’t sure how much time she had left before he was leaving for home, so she wanted to do it soon. The trouble was how...

“Here we are!” announced Blanco. Posco said, “We can split up-” Lily’s heart soared for a moment. But Blanco interrupted him, and what he said made it fall again. “Yes, yes, we can look faster that way. Posco, you can check around the outside and Lily and I will look inside.”

[Nurumaiel]

Posco gave Lily a rather despairing look and then, with a shrug, moved away. Blanco opened the door to the stable and went in, and after a brief hesitation Lily followed him. The door closed behind them, and Blanco began softly calling for Peony and Hal. Lily did likewise. They searched here and there, and at last Blanco stopped and said, 'Ah, what a silly little fool I am. They can't be here.' He looked towards Lily, but she did not question him, so with a bit of a pout he answered the question he was hoping she would ask. 'They can't be here because they would have either had to encircle the entire building, which we know they didn't do, unless they were running very fast, or they would have had to go back along the way they came, and they would have passed us by.'

'Then shall we go out?' said Lily, her voice light, but a note of anxiousness in her voice. Blanco looked keenly at her, and he sighed. He was more than certain that she wanted to go back to Posco. She was going towards the door, but he called to her to stop, and he went to her, and he looked despairingly at her. 'Miss Lily,' he said after a brief pause, 'would you tell me exactly how you feel about my brother?'

Hal and Peony had made their way back to the Common Room, where Hal had led her to a table in a dark corner of the Inn. 'Oh, come now,' said Peony, laughing, 'we can't hide back here. And why? You have already spoken to me.'

'I'm not done speaking to you yet,' said Hal rather grimly.

Peony sighed. 'How many times must I tell you?' she said. 'I cannot until my father gives permission.' Hal shot her a look of defiant desperation, and seated himself. 'Besides,' Peony went on, 'we cannot hide back here. Blanco would spot us, surely, and Bingo and Marcho have already seen us.'

'Perhaps we would have a little more time alone,' said Hal. 'Peony, when is the last time I have seen you alone?'

'When was the last time it was necessary?' she asked. 'There is nothing you can say to me but what you would say in the presence of others. Anything else you might say I have already answered.' He looked into her eyes for a few moments, and then he dropped his head and sighed sorrowfully. She reached out and touched his arm, smiling. 'Courage, Hal!' she said. 'I said wait; I did not say no. I hope still. Cannot you hope as well?'

Hal gave a nod that was barely perceptible, and he said nothing.