The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[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.

[piosenniel]

‘Best we leave her to her own thoughts and habits for now,’ said Cook, speaking low as she drew Ginger aside. ‘The Big Folk have their own way of facing down problems. Somewhat like those snapping turtles down at The Pool, or so I’ve come to think. They draw in their heads and legs all tight beneath their hard shells. And my, oh my, but they are snappish indeed if you try to prod them.’

Ginger furrowed her brow and looked over toward the Innkeeper. ‘My sister and I once tried to pry out one of those turtle’s heads when we were little. Lilly, she poked and prodded, and thumped on the old fellow’s shell.’ Ginger shook her curls at the memory. ‘Nearly bit her fingertip off, that old snapper did.’

‘Exactly!’ agreed Cook, nodding at the conjured image. ‘She’ll either come round,’ she went on, jutting her chin at Aman, ‘or she won’t. That’s just the way with them.’

Cook looked over toward the table where Derufin, Andwise, and the lads all sat. ‘Looks to me as if dessert should be offered round . . . don’t you think?’ she reached up to tuck a stray red curl behind the girl’s ear. ‘There! Now you look just fine,’ she went on, straightening Ginger’s apron a bit. Ginger picked up her tray and scurried off to the kitchen, giving the table where Aman sat a wide berth.

[starkat]

Gwenneth placed her tools down with a sigh. She had given Elenath a full going over and was a little tired. Bidding her horse good night, the elf headed back towards the Inn.

She had seen the Innkeeper come in from a distance, but had not spoken to her. Gwenneth thought that she might search out the innkeeper and ask her about a couple of the horses in the barn. Aman was nowhere to be seen at first. Just as Gwenneth took a seat at a table, Aman came out and began serving dinner.

The young elf maid noticed that Aman seemed preoccupied and decided not to say anything. Instead she looked around the room at the others. She recognized several patrons that she had seen before.

A plate of food and a glass of tea were set before her and Gwenneth smiled at the server. She realized that she was very hungry and began to eat.

[Witch_Queen]

Adu sat there staring at the floor. She didn't know what else to say. She figured that Count would be awake now. "Fáinu, do you perhaps have a horse? Mine is in the stables and it would be nice to go out for a ride. Count could use the exercise and I could really use the fresh air." Standing she motioned Fáinu to follow her. The stables wasn't but a short walk and it would do her some good to get away from such merriment. He understands me more than I do. Perhaps we aren't that different. Maybe, just maybe he won't leave me for a while. Lets just hope Hama does come back to me. I just don't want my father to be right. I will amount to something in my time in Middle Earth.

Going through her mind Adu could hear the words from her father. "Aduthondiel you will always be alone. It doesn't matter what you do. It doesn't even matter anymore. You have already began the road that will lead to your own downfall. You are like your mother. Unfortunately you are strong like me. Your stubborness is something you should be happy with. 'Cause not all things are given to you by your parents. You know what I mean, if you mother was still here with you then you would be as spoiled as all the other females." "Being raised by my father was the worst part of it all. He molded me into the elf I am today. Yet even now I know that all he wanted was for me not to be like my mother. Now look at me. Look at what I have become." Adu realized that she wasn't talking to herself anymore. Her words were almost directed to Fáinu.

Realizing what she was doing Adu quickly stopped her mumbling and even stopped walking. She turned towards Fáinu, "I'm sorry, my father was a bad man, though everyone else said different I knew him better than everyone else. My mother died when I was young. She was killed by one of the spiders Bilbo woke up. Sadly for me I was raised by him and even now I am glad he has left these lands. Fáinu, it is wierd we are from two different areas yet our history and our pain links us together." She knew that her words were not as she had meant them. The way they sounded only confused Adu. Deep down inside there was one word Adu didnt' want to say. Yet before she could shut her mouth it came out. "Fáinu, perhaps this is fate."