The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Lasbelinion]

GET OUT!

Lithmîrë’s dark grey eyes flew open at the soft touch of the inquisitive Elf.

Bad enough the body is beset by His foul minions. Yet worse the breach of mind and spirit by the Master. But worse than all is to be dishonored by one’s own.

Stay out, young one. I do not appreciate your curiosity or require your aid.

He paused for a moment, her unguarded thoughts spilling out.

And it seems you have problems of your own.

As quickly, he turned away from her thoughts. Getting up, he moved away from her, seeking a quiet place to rest.

[Mithalwen]

Mithalwen returned to Inn and as she did so she reflected over the events of the morning. The village smith, Toby Flaxman, had looked surprised to see the elf again but not displeased and once she had tentatively explained the situation Mithalwen's day took a major turn for the better.

"Oh I know the lad, well enough, such a shame for the family - they haven't had a lot of luck what with one thing and another" he had said, " I would have tried to rig something myself if I had thought it would have helped - but I don't have so much practice with such complicated work - Shoeing horses and making ploughshares is more my line" he added. Mithalwen had looked at his round, good-natured face hopefully.

"Tell you what miss, I don't see why outsiders - begging your pardon - should have to do what we should do for our own, I reckon if you sort through my scrap pile you will find most of what you need and if I let you use the forge maybe you could give me a hand with some of my work - my lad strained his shoulder falling out of a tree at the wedding party and some tasks you need two for " . Privately, the hobbit had realised there was probably a lot he could learn from the elf.

They had set to work immediately. The smith's son Tim, though he was not up to wielding a hammer, was able to help Mithalwen find the appropriate materials from the pile of offcuts in the corner of the forge and then went to beg off cut leather from the cobbler for the straps.

In between paying customers, the two smiths worked at assembling the braces, Although onlookers found it a curious sight - the tall elf woman whos head nearly toched the forge ceiling, and the middle aged hobbit- but the pair worked well together. Mithalwen appreciated Toby's practical efficiency and he admired her skill at the finer tasks and was especially curious about some of the tools she used for them. The elf promise that they would make copies to suit his stature before she left "as a small recompense for your help" . From Toby, Mithalwen learnt more about how much Rory was likely to grow and was as a result able to simplify some of her designs.

All in all the elf's mood had improved as the morning went on. It looked like her stay would be shorter than she feared, her frustration at her failure with Aman and Snaveling dissipated with each hammer fall, replaced by the joy of working at her craft again. And it was a rare pleasure to work collaboratively in these days. The hobbits were merry company and she soon began to learn folk songs of the shire and exactly how the various Hobbit families were related.

The only blight on the morning had been Uien's unexpected visit. Mithalwen had been perplexed and a little irritated. Maybe they had been at cross-purposes last night and Mithalwen had certainly been distracted by other matters, but she had assumed that Uien's help would have been in treating the boy - using her skill in herblore and physiology to help Rory's limbs strengthen from within as they were supported from without by the braces. However she had seemed put out that Mithalwen had not needed her enchantments, that she had progreesed the work without her supervison and approval. Mithalwen had little vanity but she knew she was a good craftswoman and she was somewhat offended that Uien seemed to think that three thousand years practice of shaping wood and metal would not suffice for this relatively straight-forward task.

Mithalwen sighed - misunderstandings with mortals were one thing but now it seemed she was at odds with her own species. It seemed she had managed to upset everyone she had met at the inn so far - Uien, Aman, Falco.... Marigold she had not upset ... but she had concussed herself whilst in her care. Not auspicious.

She wished she had not had to return to the inn, so little did she want to see anyone, but to remain at the forge would be to impose on the Flaxman's hospitality as well as thier time.

She washed her hands at the pump by the inn door and then on impulsed soused her head under the cold water. THe forge had made her hotter than the sunshine. She wrung out her silver plait and entered the relatively cool and dark common room.

She saw Snaveling and Aman, presenting a show of unity to a man she had not seen before an dFalowik at a table. Both she avoided, and inconspicuously as possible gathered a plate of bread and cheese and some cool cider and retreated to the garden.

She saw another elf, but he evidentlyhad as little wish for company as herself so with barely a glance she found another shady spot a little way away.

[Nurumaiel]

Marigold blushed a little at Miz Bella's words, sensing that she had made some sort of mistake... though it seemed quite logical to arrange the books by how big they were. She said nothing, however, deciding that it wouldn't do any use. She had made some sort of mistake, and obviously Miz Bella didn't see how logical their manner of sorting really was. And that was that. She sighed, dropped her eyes to the ground, and continued her slow pace to the garden.

Haltred and Estella were already there. Estella had darted away in the manner of a frightened rabbit at the earliest opportunity, and Haltred had followed her. As Marigold approached them, having firmly decided to not leave them without friends, Estella clasped her hands shyly behind her back, dropping her head very low, and Haltred smiled in a friendly way.

Purples, pinks, reds, yellows... in fact, every colour of the rainbow surrounded them in the garden. The flowers had suffered a temporary ordeal during the hard rains, but as a result they blossomed out stronger and brighter than before. The blue sky, the yellow sun, and the fluffy white clouds that scurried here and there in a merry game of tag seemed to have bent down from their lofty heights to give colours to the wee things on the earth.

Marigold bent to pick one of her namesakes, and gazed for a moment into the rich, warm, golden glow before fastening it up in her hair. "I'm so grateful," she said, "that marigolds are rather orange, rather than yellowish. It's very hard to wear them in my hair even as it is, but they're a different enough colour that they look all right. Now, you know, my mother's hair was black, and her name was Lilac. She could wear lilacs in her hair and it looked beautiful."

She paused, and looked here and there, and smiled at a little forget-me-not, and beckoned to Estella, who advanced shyly when her brother prodded her on.

"Here, Estella," said Marigold. "These forget-me-nots will look beautiful in your hair. My papa always told them that when the sun was out and shining, a hobbit girl doesn't look proper if she doesn't have flowers in her hair. 'All the girls are little flowers,' he said. 'There are Marigolds and Lilacs and Buttercups, and they ought to look like it.'" She tucked the little forget-me-nots behind Estella's ear, and frowned a little. "I knew a girl who told a boy forget-me-nots were to give to your sweetheart when you were going away. And so that boy, because he was going to Michel Delving, gave me some forget-me-nots. I just looked at him scornfully. But I did tell him goodbye very nicely, because I don't think he wanted to go away. Forget-me-nots always remind me to think of and love my mother and father." She looked wistfully at the little flower, and then turned to Haltred with a bright smile.

"Are you enjoying school?" she asked.

"I am," he replied, and added with a rueful grin, "though I feel terribly stupid at times."

"Well, so do I," Marigold replied, with a little laugh. "I'm not very good at anything at all. I'm very glad my papa taught me a little of reading and writing. But soon we'll all know everything." She nodded her head, looking well-pleased with the prospect, and then snatched Estella's hand in a way that defied any protest. "Come on," she said. "Lunch is over there and I'm very hungry."

[littlemanpoet]

Is this what I want? She stared at the carving of a family of the Eldar. This Elf was not Falowik!

<GET OUT!>

The thought seared through Uien's mind like a hot dagger. She closed her eyes against the pain and put her hands to her head, dropping the carving and knife.

<GET OUT!>

The echo seared through the same path, burning its way into her thought. She fought for some sensation to sustain her, and reached out, her shaking hands touching grass. She pushed herself to her feet and staggered.

<GET OUT! Out out>

It echoed again, sending her falling to the ground, her face mirroring the pain of hot rejection. She crawled, fearing that she could not stand.

The echo came again and again. Though her eyes were closed, tears streamed down her face as she crawled she knew not where.

"Uien, what is-" <GET OUT! Out out>

Hands grasped her shoulders and started to lift her. Orcs! She cried out, fearing their evil touch, fearing their purpose, trying to get away. She needed to get out of there, to leave, if only she could find a way.

"Uien! It's Falowik! Look at-" <GET OUT! Out out>

She shook her head, weeping.

"Who has done this to you?" His voice was harsh.

<GET OUT! Out out>

"Falowik, <GET OUT!>-" His grip stalled on her shoulders, and he let go.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No, Laurëatan! Please <GET OUT!>- stay with me. Please...." she whimpered. But there was no answer. "Falowik?"

<GET OUT! Out out>

[Fairleaf]

Fairleaf & Lithmîrë

What’s this? she said waking from a light slumber.

She felt the weight of him as he leaned back against her. Lightly at first and then the full burden as he twitched his back, settling in firmly against her. She could feel him ease himself into her ridges and hollows, settling into the angle of her roots and trunk.

The day’s breeze ruffled through her leaves, rustling them one against the other. She could hear him sigh and relax further, until she bore the full burden of him. His breathing slowed, deepened. He was asleep.

She shifted a little, trying to see his face. Some soft tunnel of light was channeled down on him as she moved her branches. It touched gently on the right side of his face picking out his features. One of the Quendi! Elf-child.

So tired he looked. Beneath his eyelid ran dreams . . . and not pleasant by the soft moans and grimaces as pain or the memory of it passed through him.

Reaching down a leafy branch she could smell the sweet liquid he’d drunk earlier. Faint ginger and licorice were there; chamomile with calendula; wort and vervain in heavier doses for pain and a disquiet spirit. Wood betony and lemon balm to wrap it in a light sweetness. She was wondering why he would be drinking such a mixture.

A leaf strayed close to his cheek, grazing it. A sharp intake of breath, his lids fluttering against the intrusion. She feared he would wake. But he settled back into his sleep, turning as he did so to find another position of comfort. Fairleaf gasped aloud as the light revealed the other side of his face.

Fire!

Old memories of her friends and companions burned and gone when the Deceiver had come to the land of their fair gardens near the great river.

Who has done this to you, little one?

[Child of the 7th Age]

"Ah, I see our lunch has arrived!" Miz Bella strode forward to help the young ones with their armloads of food. Cook had been very generous. "Here, let's set the things up underneath the trees, " she added. "I've spread some blankets on the ground, and you can place the soup over on the little table just beside it." The children had finished their playing and were now drifting over to where the food was. Camille, however, was not back with her brother, which caused Miz Bella some concern, and the two Gamgeee children had not arrived. Still, for the first day, things had gone reasonably well.

She looked curiously at the two helpers who had come along with the young hobbits to help carry the load. "Thanks for your help, and give my regards to Cook for her kind gift. But I'm afraid you have me at an advantage. I have seen you around the Inn but I don't know either of your names. And there was something else I wanted to ask. The other day I heard someone talking about a performance they were planning for the Inn. Would either of you know anything about that, or who I should talk to? I don't know if it's anything the children could help with, but I know they would be very excited. We've even found someone who's willing to teach us some songs."