The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Witch_Queen]

Cree placed her hand on top of Fainu's left hand. "Fainu, I will follow you to whatever end I may meet. I am not afraid as long as I have you by my side." Cree could feel her cheeks begin to burn. She knew she was blushing. For one moment she was trying to be serious, yet she couldn't. Deep down inside the child was wanting to come out. "Fainu, I have faced many perils without you and believe me I would rather face one hundred years of death than a day without you ." She knew she had faced a long time without him. Cree could feel him in her heart.

So that was it, Cree would go with Fainu. She didn't care if it meant she might die. The only thing she ever wanted was to be with Fainu. Cree could only wait now for the day she would depart from the Shire. She would miss what friends she had made. The one thing she wouldn't miss was all the bad memories.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

They sat there in silence for a time. Fáinu stared in almost astonishment into Cree's eyes, he did not know what to say to her. She showed so much courage and faithfulness. the time he had spent alone had made him forget how much he longed for a companion, even his horse had run away on many occasions.

"For many years," he said, "my future has been dark to me, all I know is what Elrond told me. Ever since that black day, I have been alone. You have found a companion in your crow. Ask yourself this; would you have survived on your own without her? Would you have kept you mind?" he sighed and looked down at the table, "My only problem is that I do not know what I would do if I led you to death, I would ever blame myself. For Elrond said that one would be lead by me to death, and then I would again wander alone."

He looked up at Cree and saw that a tear was rolling down her cheek, Fáinu could do nothing. Nothing could he find to say to cheer her. All that came to mind were cold words that would perhaps harm their friendship.

"But If this is our fate," he said profoundly, "Then let us go to it unafraid. Even if all evil ever spawned comes for us, even if the fire of Hell scorched me, never shall I let thee be alone. Lest it is beyond my power."

[Arry]

Andwise chuckled as Derufin returned to the ladder and started his climb back up to the roof. ‘New lady in your life?’ he asked, nodding toward the horse. ‘She the one who gave you the rosemary?’ Derufin laughed, shaking his head “no”. If anything, he’d told the Hobbit that one would have eaten the rosemary had she found it. The two exchanged a few remarks on what they hoped to get done that day; then, Derufin climbed quickly up the ladder and disappeared onto the roof.

As he finished up the cabinetry in the kitchen, Andwise could hear the man thumping about above him as he moved over each new section he has shingling. The swish and scrape of the tarring brush and long-handled trowel on the roof’s surface were periodically interrupted as the man knelt down to tap the wooden shingles securely into place.

The Hobbit was just finishing up putting the hardware on the cabinet doors in preparation for hanging them when he heard Derufin’s voice call down. ‘Would someone send up a sheaf of shingles?’ he asked. ‘I’ll send down a rope to tie them to.’ Andwise stepped out of the kitchen’s door and found a good-sized stack of the cedar shingles. He bound them securely with thick twine, then hauled them over to where the rope had been dropped. A quick tie-up, and Derufin was hauling the stack up to the roof. ‘My thanks!’ he heard the man call out.

Once the holes were drilled in the cabinet frames, Andwise began attaching the doors with flat-head screws. It was not work that required a great deal of thought, or attention. He fell to thinking about Ferdy and what Cook was going to speak with the lad about.

Well, Lily . . . perhaps I should have paid a bit more attention to this. he thought, conjuring up the sweet face of his dear departed wife. But I always relied on you to handle the more ‘sensitive’ parts of raising the boy. How’s a thick-headed old carpenter like me to know what needs saying? Why, I swear, if it hadn’t been for you letting me know quite plain you were interested, I’d probably still be a bachelor today.

Andwise finished hanging the last of the doors and went outside to enjoy a pipeful. The main door to the cottage would be next, and he wanted to settle his mind before he started drawing the design on it he intended to carve. He filled and lit his little clay pipe and sat contentedly on the small wooden bench beneath the Rowan tree. ‘Needs a bit of sanding,’ he thought to himself, running his hand over the surface of the seat. ‘And a bit of paint, too I think.’ He leaned back against the trunk of the tree and surveyed the progress on the cottage. ‘Be done, I think, in two days. The lads have done good work. And Mister Derufin’s a right good worker.’

He fell to wondering about the man . . . where he’d come from, what had brought him here. He was older than Zimzi, though they seemed well suited to each other from what he’d gleaned in conversation and in overheard gossip in the Inn. There was at times a certain sadness he saw briefly in the man’s face and there had been some talk he had fought in a far away place in the War. ‘Best leave those wonderings to yourself, Andwise,’ he could just hear Lily saying. ‘The day is new and brings fresh hope with it. Just wish him the best for what lies ahead.’ The Hobbit chuckled to himself and nodded his head at her counsel.

Pipe finished, he tapped out the ashes into the garden soil, making sure they were covered and well out. Rested, he took up his chalk from his tool box and began to sketch out the simple design he had planned for door.

[Firefoot]

Lily looked up around the room and sighed. She was lonely and bored, for everyone around her was either deep in conversation or busy working on some task or another. She wanted something to do or someone to talk to, but nothing came to mind. She briefly considered going out to the stables to visit Clover, but a glance out the window showed that the people outside were just as busy as those inside; there were bound to be other people in the stable. Again the thought of home crossed her mind, and the idea that presented itself seemed so obvious she could not believe she had not thought of it before: she did not want to go home, but why not write a letter?

Her mind made up, she hurried upstairs to find some parchment and a pen. She found the items without any real difficulties and returned downstairs. She supposed it would be easier just to write it in her room but part of her still hoped that Posco might be coming back. A foolish hope, the sensible part of her mind said. He’s gone, and he won’t come back. Let him go. It didn’t feel any less painful though. Rather than dwell on it, she turned to the blank parchment staring up at her. She paused before starting, but once she began she wrote steadily until she neared the end. The parts about meeting Willow, Mira, and Daisy had been easy to write about, and she had written freely of meeting Bingo, Posco, Marcho, and Blanco. But how much to say about herself and Posco? After some careful thought, she continued:

I must tell you now about the relationship between Posco and myself. Though I have only met him recently, I know that I have fallen in love with him. We went on a splendid pony ride yesterday together, and I was given every indication that he shared my feelings. He is very shy, as I have mentioned, and since they were planning to leave for Buckland soon I knew I did not have much time with him. This is the part that puzzles me, for last night I told him I loved him, and he did not say much. I cannot tell if this is because he is shy, or because he does not actually love me. I do not know if they were returning to Buckland today or not; if they did and Posco does not come by the inn today, I will be leaving for home. I have entertained this thought a great deal already. If he does, however, return, I will likely be in the Shire for a few more weeks. You can take this as a sign for how things are going for me.

Your loving (confused) niece,

Lily

She folded the letter and placed it in her pocket; she would have to seal it later. She felt better after writing her thoughts down on paper. Now, she looked around for something to do or someone’s conversation to join. There would have to be something... if all else failed she would try outside.

[Nurumaiel]

Posco sat by the stable door, plucking up bits of grass and twisting them in his hands, and he looked thoughtfully at the door of the Inn. By now Marcho and Bingo would be riding home and, yes, even Blanco, his own brother. Aunt Malva had insisted on Peony staying for a week or perhaps longer to help with the work, and Posco had seized this opportunity to stay closer to Lily. Yet he knew she would be going home soon, as well.

He did not know why he sat so close to the Inn, and so obviously in sight. He did not know what he would say if he met with Lily, and he did not know what he should do. Perhaps she would still be angry at him, for she had seemed rather angry the previous evening. He could not see why, or at least he had not been able to, until Blanco's fist had met his face. It seemed likely that Lily had been puzzled but his silence, but he could not have said yes, no matter how much his heart yearned for it. If she came out now and saw him, he would be as polite as he could be, and if she insisted upon his answer he would explain to her why it could not come.

He looked at the door for a few moments more, and then he got up and went around to the other side of the stable, where he could not be seen from the Inn.