The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Seeing that there was distress in the face of Avalon, Dwaline grew slightly suspicious of John. More so than he had done previously. Avalon looked worriedly at Dwaline, who nodded and looked back at John. He had spotted something in the eyes of this man and ever more it made him curious. Dwaline took another puff on his pipe before eating some more cram.

"Tell me," Dwaline said leaning forward, "What can Aman tell you about you're Sarah that you do not know. She has lived in the shire for many years. I know it well, and it is well known to be a place that takes in little news from the outside world." Dwaline did not hide the suspicion in his question, he wanted to see if John would react or become nervous at his plying further into his business.

"You see this inn?" he asked rhetorically, "Many travellers come and go here, they tell their stories, some are existing and filled with danger and mystery. But none become widespread tales about Hobbiton. My Friend, if Aman has heard the truth bout Sarah, there is no doubt that it has been mingled with lies. You may send you’re self on a wild goose chase. And believe me, Wild geese oft lead you to danger."

[piosenniel]

Cook staves off a further attack upon her domain . . .

Word had passed to the far reaches of the Common Room. Like a quickly retreating tide, they had rushed back through the aisles, their feet pattering against the wooden floor until they reached the door to the kitchen. Curious at their departure, a number of the long time patrons followed along in their wake. Until at last, there was a large crowd eddying about the door.

‘What’s going on?’ asked one of those in back, watching as two of the lasses cracked open the door a bit and peeked in.

‘It’s that tall fellow with the harp,’ began one. ‘Seems he’s been washing the pots and pans,’ added the other. They both giggled and turned round to face the eager group. ‘He’s managed to clean the pots, I think,’ one of them went on. ‘But, he’s also managed to get loads of water on Cook’s floor! And last I saw, he was bent over wiping some of it up with one of her best towels!’

There was a collective gasp, and thinking better of intruding on Cook in her plight, the swirl of lookers-on rushed out again into the far reaches of the Common Room. Distancing themselves from any fall out should Cook explode.

~*~

Cook, for her part, was actually doing quite well with the situation. It had confirmed for her that one of the main problems with Big Folk was that their brains being so far from their arms and legs, there was no feed back on the actions they attempted. Clumsy oafs! To be forgiven somewhat on account of their deficiency.

She snapped her fingers at the two horrified girls who were helping out in the kitchen. White faced, they drew near, wondering what she wanted them to do. The man loomed a giant in their eyes, but the fear of displeasing Cook steeled their backbones. They gave an audible sigh of relief as she instructed them to make a platter of ham and pickle sandwiches and fill a bowl with mushroom barley soup.

‘And a “Hark!” to you, Master Hearpwine!’ she said in a firm voice, planting one foot on the now wet and dirty hand towel. She handed him a dry towel and ‘tut-tut’-ed him as he made to use it for further wiping up. ‘Just dry your hands, dear,’ she said, speaking pleasantly as to one of her sons when they were younger. ‘Your work here is more than done by my reckoning. And an admirable job it was,’ she added. ‘These nice girls here have made you some lunch.’ She pointed to where Ginger and her companion stood at the now open kitchen door. ‘You just follow them out to one of the tables and sit yourself down and enjoy your food.’ She nodded at the girls to lead him on out. ‘And Ginger . . . you be sure to get him a mug of ale . . .’

She stood with a pleasant smile pasted on her face until the door had closed behind the trio . . .

[Mithalwen]

Even from her secluded corner of the gardens, Mithalwen was aware of some hubbub within and around the inn. She resolved to ignore it closing her ears and her mind to the sounds. If anyone wants me they will come and get me she thought. She did however take a second look at the strange elf resting a little way away, averting her eyes when she saw his scars, sure that even asleep she would not want to be stared out. She wondered what had happened to him - battle or mischance? She thought of her father and brother lost in Mordor long ago wondering if they would have borne such scars if they had survived.

Such thoughts were too painful for a fair day and she sought pleasanter ones. Her mind wandered back more than an age of the world and in the bittersweet paths of elvish dreams, Mithalwen's young self walked, with her brothers, the paths of a Lindon still ruled by Gil-galad.

[Arry]

Woody tries to get up a game of marbles after lunch

‘Hurry up and finish your soup!’ Woody nudged Hanson, causing him to slop a little of the mushroom barley broth on his tunic.

‘Hey! Watch out!’ Hanson rasped back. ‘I’m hungry. And besides, why are you wanting to get back to the schoolroom?’

‘Not the schoolroom! Let’s get our marbles out and play over there in the dirt.’ Woody scooted over to where Neviel was sitting. ‘Hey, want to learn to shoot marbles in the dirt?’ he asked. ‘Get Reggie and Willy. Me and Hanson will meet you over by the tall tree,’ he said, pointing.

Hanson came up a grin on his face, and eager to be off. Above his upper lip was a mustache of soup. He had abandoned his spoon altogether and slurped the remainder of the soup directly from his bowl.

[Kath]

Astilwen entered warily through the front door of the inn. She had heard a commotion as she approached and though it did not sound serious she didn't want to walk into the middle of a fight.

Though you would not guess it from her name Astilwen was a hobbit. Her parents had tended to look outside of the Shire for names for their children and she counted herself lucky that she had not ended up being called something a lot worse. Apart from her name she was as typical looking a hobbit lass as they come with curly brown hair falling down around her shoulders. She was quite a young hobbit, not yet come of age at 29, but she was free of spirit and with seven siblings at home she had not felt guilty when she left to explore the wider world.

Seeing that all seemed calm inside she walked up to the bar, unsure of what to do or who to talk to. She wanted news of "the outside" as her parents called the lands beyond the Shire and so chose to order a drink and wait in the hope that someone would take pity and welcome her.

[littlemanpoet]

Uien struggled against the tight grip of the orc; she knew what it wanted.

<It is I Esgallhugwen Elenglin, do not be taken by the shadows, come back to the light Uien Aduial, do not leave the twilight that you love so. Listen to me and come back to the light!>

Esgallhugwen? Uien stopped struggling and looked, seeing the Elven woman for the first time. Esgallhugwen whistled to her wolf, "Go and fetch Falowik, mellon". The wolf rushed away toward the front of the Inn.

Falowik? Where is he?

Esgallhugwen was saying something to her. "...I must teach you." Teach me what? Eswen let go of Uien's wrists. "But first I believe hearts are in need of mending." She reached out at the curious wooden object that lay in the grass and examined it with a frown. "Is this what you want, or is this what you had and lost long ago with your own mother and father? Often the past haunts our kind, mellon and this carved object may not be the future".

Uien shook her head. "I know not which it is, Eswen. I did not know what was in me that struggled so to show itself."

***************************

"Stay, Falowik!" said Aman. "Do not leave! I am sure there must be some reason."

"Some reason she has rejected me? I can tell you, she wants an Elven mate with whom she can have an Elven child. Did you not see the carving she has made?"

A white wolf came running up to them suddenly, and stopped between them, looking at Falowik. He jumped back, startled. The wolf lunged and grabbed for his wrist, pulling him painlessly back toward the Inn.

"Hey! What are you doing, wolf?"

The wolf paid no heed, but kept dragging him toward the Inn.

"'Twould seem," said Aman, walking behind, a grin in her voice, "that all Middle Earth conspires to bring you back to Uien, Falowik Stonewort."

"Wolf! Let go! I shall follow you! I promise." The wolf stopped, not letting go, and fixed Falowik with its eyes, suspiciously. "I give you my word, wolf." Falowik could not help chuckling a little, looking at himself in this fix from the back of his mind, caught by a willful wolf. It let him go and watched him closely. "Lead on, wolf."

The wolf led him to Uien and another woman. Slowly it dawned on Falowik that he knew this Elf woman. It was Eswen! And Uien was quiet, watching him as he approached. The white wolf came to Eswen, who scratched his head between the ears, thanking him for "bringing Falowik back". Falowik came to a stop just a little way from the two Elven women. He felt ill at ease, not knowing what to expect from the Elfwoman who had just told him to get out of her life; he watched her guardedly. Aman joined them, but all four seemed cast into a pall of silence.

[Witch_Queen]

Jon

Jon felt troubled by what Dwaline had to say. He didn't care anymore. Jon's life was already full of troubled times and now it didn't matter to him what either of the two thought. Jon wasn't sure what he suddenly sensed but something had changed in Dwaline's voice. "Dwaline I am here to talk to an old friend. Sarah and Aman didn't know each other at all. As far as Aman knowing about Sarah's death I don't even know if she has been informed. Like I said I came to the Shire seeking council with Aman. I believe even in the Shire there is no law prohibiting me from talking with an old friend."

Jon let out a smirk before picking up his mug of ale. Dwaline knows not what he's getting himself into. As for this wild goose chase... Even a wild goose is smart enough not to stand in the way of my path. Jon took a drink of his ale and turned his attention to the window. He didn't know why but he felt drawn to the outside at that time.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Indeed no," said Dwaline, "There is no law that I know of. But Hobbits are a strange folk, and their ways are queer." He gulped down the last of his ale and placed the mug flat on the table. Seeing discomfort in Avalon, Dwaline leant back on his chair and stared John straight in the eyes.

Ye fool, Thought Dwaline, thou hast many troubles on you're mind. Lies, thievery and murder. Turning his attention to the fireside, he began to think back to when his father was teaching him how to smelt ores and to fashion Gold. He shook his head and smiled.

"Something trouble you," said Dwaline, preserving some distress in John's face, "and I see that some great ting weighs heavily on you." John attempted to hide it, but he realised Dwaline was already beginning to delved deep.