The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Angel_Queen · 05-09-2005, 10:01 AM

Ravon

She looked at Lewis. For once she was the happiest person in the world. "Lewis you know I will." She jumped out of her seat and hugged the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. She knew now that nothing was going to take him away from her.

At about that time Lewis' brother walked in the Green Dragon. He had a big smile across his face. She looked at him. "Did you know about this?"

Fordim Hedgethistle · 05-09-2005, 12:06 PM

Hearpwine’s delight was apparent when he learned of Mithalwen’s craft, and in token of esteem to it he rose and bowed deeply to her. “My compliments once more to you Lady, for devoting your talents to such a lofty goal! I know but little of the instruments of Elves, but they are things of surpassing beauty in both form and function. There is a small harp in particular that I adore. It has many strings and is made of a fine, light wood from Lorién. Many’s the time have I been moved to tears simply by the sound of its chords.”

Mithalwen looked wary. “You would not ask of me to make you such an instrument would you, Master Bard?”

Hearpwine laughed. “Nay, Lady, I would not presume. My old master always thought me overbold – reckless even – but my impetuousness would never extend that far! Besides, in my land the Bard is expected to make his own instrument. Behold!” he pulled forth his harp once more, brandishing it in the air between them. “I fashioned this from the wood of an ancient tree that had been hewn by the foul creatures of Mordor when their kind befouled beautiful Ithilien. I sang a lament over the bole of the great beech before cutting it to the heart. The wood inside was clean and pure, and formed of straight lines, and from that I was able to make an instrument that is considered amongst the finest of my kind, although I am sure that to a maker such as yourself it must appear as the plaything of a child.”

He handed it to the Elf, eager to hear her opinion of his work but aware nonetheless that with the afternoon now underway he was expected in the schoolroom.

Mithalwen · 05-09-2005, 01:08 PM

"Well, there is no one right way to build a harp and I have had rather more time at my disposal, I started learning my craft when Elendil was founding his kingdom and some of my teachers had learnt theirs in Doriath and Gondolin. The wood I use, I have usually watched grow from a sapling and while to cut a tree is a sorrow, there are worse fates we deem. Each wood has it's own quality, the beech is beloved of elves and long lived so I use it seldom by design" She took the harp and examined it closely before drawing a range of scales and arpeggios from the instrument.

"I deem you have made it well to suit your purpose and needs. " She answered diplomatically - the harp had a robust but true tone, " were it used mainly for Elvish music, I would make certain adjustments to the voicing. Forgive me if I am too critical but in my own land, I am expected to make the instruments only for those with greater skill in performance ".

Nevertheless she picked out a tune she had learnt many years ago in Gondor, a tune of mortals she thought would suit the tones of this man made harp. For elves, music conjures visions or memories in the mind and she was transported across many centuries to the day when she had learnt that tune, the memory of the one who had taught it her brought back emotions still too painful to deal with in public and she stopped playing and returned the harp to its owner.

"I regret, I can not show you an instrument of my own making for I brought only the things which I expected to need on my journey. And no instrument has travelled to the south I think, unless perchance the lady Arwen took with her the lute I made for her long ago"... Mithalwen paused, lost again in memory and then stirred, wondering if it was time that she should return to the forge. But at that moment the vittles ordered by Aman arrived, hospitality she felt she could not refuse.

Lasbelinion · 05-09-2005, 01:39 PM

Lithmîrë’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement at what had just occurred. His hand still rested on the handle of the pump in the Inn’s back yard, a few driblets of its precious water splashing down onto the rocky bed below. He looked down, noting a few of the bees from the gardens had landed on the rounded rocks and were busy drinking. Precious water . . . he thought, watching a fat drop splatter on a rock and roll down, lost between the cracks where the stones butted up one against another. Where he had worked the fields, the water had flowed down narrow ditches to the thirsty plants. No drop wasted.

His gaze followed the track to the door through which the Hobbit had disappeared. He felt disarmed, in a way, by her conversation. He was not sure how she had done it. He ran their conversation back through his mind; not just the words exchanged, but the gestures and tones, the subtleties. Disarmed. And she without a lash or cudgel, and seemingly without design.

A strange, low sound surprised him. He felt it rumble through his chest, shaking his belly, until his throat gave voice to it. It was an odd sound, long unused by him. With a will of its own, the rusty laughter fell from his curved lips, following the track, too.

He found himself looking forward to the tea she had promised. It was a hesitant hope. And he hid it away quickly lest it disappear as the water had done among the hard stones of the drain field.

His head turned round to where she said she would meet him. His feet moved in the direction of the bower near the cottage at the edge of the yard.

Anguirel · 05-10-2005, 12:41 AM

Artifondo gulped slightly as he sat down. Miz Bunce, as his sister had described, was pretty formidable. Would the piece of sweet-talk he had planned succeed?

"Unfortunately, madam," he started, "my father...ah...was, um, unwilling to yield too many of his glistening fresh produce. I have brought only one, and not, perhaps, ah, the best..."

Now for the piece of theatrical dash. Holding out his left hand, he opened it slowly; but there was nothing in it. With a shy smile, in the face of the Cook's mounting impatience, he extended his right arm. Unlike his model, Beren Erchamion, he could not impress his viewer with a severed stump; but he could reveal the artichoke, its pale tips slightly luminescent in the darker kitchen.

"My father calls this strain of artichokes the Silmarils, madam, after the jewels in the old tales. As the gems are supposed to have coursed whoever ate them in holiness, so these bathe the body with a, ahm, a tremendous restorative quality as the heart is ingested. They will go perfectly beside your famous stews, or simply alone, ah, and, um, dowsed with butter."

Artifondo took a rather ragged breath.

"Sorry...didn't bring more...you know how it is..." He rolled his eyes. "Father...likes to keep them...for himself..."

Child of the 7th Age · 05-10-2005, 01:05 PM

Miz Bella finished talking with Astilwen and told her that she would be very happy to gain an assistant in the classroom, "Come any time you like, " she assured her. "You might want to start by working with Rory. He just joined us, and I know he has a special interest in learning to read. You can go over to the table in my private room and have him practice reading and writing. He does know a few letters, I believe, but will need some help in putting the letters together into words. Anything you can do would be a real help."

Then Miz Bella turned back to the class. Willy was raising his hand triumphantly in the air, a wide grin plastered over his face as he announced that he knew the answer to one of the riddles. "Go ahead, Master Willy, have a go. And if you're right, you can select a prize from the top of my desk."

Firefoot · 05-10-2005, 02:37 PM

"It's a tree!" Willy answered proudly. "They've got lots of leaves in summer, but they're bare in winter 'cause they lose their leaves."

Miz Bella smiled at him. "A tree, it is. Good job, Willy, and come pick out a prize." Willy hopped up out of his seat and tried to keep his pace slow as he went up to the desk. He took a look at the prizes for a moment, pretty sure he wanted the knife but not quite positive. The candies would be yummy, but they wouldn't last very long. And the leather ball looked fun, too; he had a ball but it had been used by all the lads and lasses in his family, his oldest brother being in his tweens now. But... he would have to share the ball. He had to share a lot of things with his siblings, six of them all told. A knife could be all his. Confidently, he selected the knife, glancing at Miz Bella from the corner of his eye.

"Good choice," she told him. "It's sharp - be careful with it."

"I will," he promised, grinning. He had started to walk back to his desk with his prize when he remembered his manners. "Thank you, Miz Bella."

"You're welcome."

Willy took his seat, fingering his new knife happily. And it was all his.

05-09-2005, 01:08 PM	#3
Mithalwen Pilgrim Soul Join Date: May 2004 Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle... Posts: 9,461	"Well, there is no one right way to build a harp and I have had rather more time at my disposal, I started learning my craft when Elendil was founding his kingdom and some of my teachers had learnt theirs in Doriath and Gondolin. The wood I use, I have usually watched grow from a sapling and while to cut a tree is a sorrow, there are worse fates we deem. Each wood has it's own quality, the beech is beloved of elves and long lived so I use it seldom by design" She took the harp and examined it closely before drawing a range of scales and arpeggios from the instrument. "I deem you have made it well to suit your purpose and needs. " She answered diplomatically - the harp had a robust but true tone, " were it used mainly for Elvish music, I would make certain adjustments to the voicing. Forgive me if I am too critical but in my own land, I am expected to make the instruments only for those with greater skill in performance ". Nevertheless she picked out a tune she had learnt many years ago in Gondor, a tune of mortals she thought would suit the tones of this man made harp. For elves, music conjures visions or memories in the mind and she was transported across many centuries to the day when she had learnt that tune, the memory of the one who had taught it her brought back emotions still too painful to deal with in public and she stopped playing and returned the harp to its owner. "I regret, I can not show you an instrument of my own making for I brought only the things which I expected to need on my journey. And no instrument has travelled to the south I think, unless perchance the lady Arwen took with her the lute I made for her long ago"... Mithalwen paused, lost again in memory and then stirred, wondering if it was time that she should return to the forge. But at that moment the vittles ordered by Aman arrived, hospitality she felt she could not refuse. __________________ “But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the trees in Eldamar.” Christopher Tolkien, Requiescat in pace

05-09-2005, 01:39 PM	#4
Lasbelinion Pile O'Bones Join Date: Apr 2005 Posts: 24	Lithmîrë’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement at what had just occurred. His hand still rested on the handle of the pump in the Inn’s back yard, a few driblets of its precious water splashing down onto the rocky bed below. He looked down, noting a few of the bees from the gardens had landed on the rounded rocks and were busy drinking. Precious water . . . he thought, watching a fat drop splatter on a rock and roll down, lost between the cracks where the stones butted up one against another. Where he had worked the fields, the water had flowed down narrow ditches to the thirsty plants. No drop wasted. His gaze followed the track to the door through which the Hobbit had disappeared. He felt disarmed, in a way, by her conversation. He was not sure how she had done it. He ran their conversation back through his mind; not just the words exchanged, but the gestures and tones, the subtleties. Disarmed. And she without a lash or cudgel, and seemingly without design. A strange, low sound surprised him. He felt it rumble through his chest, shaking his belly, until his throat gave voice to it. It was an odd sound, long unused by him. With a will of its own, the rusty laughter fell from his curved lips, following the track, too. He found himself looking forward to the tea she had promised. It was a hesitant hope. And he hid it away quickly lest it disappear as the water had done among the hard stones of the drain field. His head turned round to where she said she would meet him. His feet moved in the direction of the bower near the cottage at the edge of the yard. __________________ In the twilight of autumn the ship sailed out of Mithlond,until the seas of the Bent World fell away beneath it,& the winds of the round sky troubled it no more,& borne upon the high airs above the mists of the world it passed into the Ancient West…

05-10-2005, 12:41 AM	#5
Anguirel Byronic Brand Join Date: Mar 2005 Location: The 1590s Posts: 2,778	Selling A "Silmaril" Artifondo gulped slightly as he sat down. Miz Bunce, as his sister had described, was pretty formidable. Would the piece of sweet-talk he had planned succeed? "Unfortunately, madam," he started, "my father...ah...was, um, unwilling to yield too many of his glistening fresh produce. I have brought only one, and not, perhaps, ah, the best..." Now for the piece of theatrical dash. Holding out his left hand, he opened it slowly; but there was nothing in it. With a shy smile, in the face of the Cook's mounting impatience, he extended his right arm. Unlike his model, Beren Erchamion, he could not impress his viewer with a severed stump; but he could reveal the artichoke, its pale tips slightly luminescent in the darker kitchen. "My father calls this strain of artichokes the Silmarils, madam, after the jewels in the old tales. As the gems are supposed to have coursed whoever ate them in holiness, so these bathe the body with a, ahm, a tremendous restorative quality as the heart is ingested. They will go perfectly beside your famous stews, or simply alone, ah, and, um, dowsed with butter." Artifondo took a rather ragged breath. "Sorry...didn't bring more...you know how it is..." He rolled his eyes. "Father...likes to keep them...for himself..." Last edited by Anguirel; 05-10-2005 at 12:42 AM. Reason: deleting sig

05-10-2005, 01:05 PM	#6
Child of the 7th Age Spirit of the Lonely Star Join Date: Mar 2002 Posts: 5,133	Miz Bella finished talking with Astilwen and told her that she would be very happy to gain an assistant in the classroom, "Come any time you like, " she assured her. "You might want to start by working with Rory. He just joined us, and I know he has a special interest in learning to read. You can go over to the table in my private room and have him practice reading and writing. He does know a few letters, I believe, but will need some help in putting the letters together into words. Anything you can do would be a real help." Then Miz Bella turned back to the class. Willy was raising his hand triumphantly in the air, a wide grin plastered over his face as he announced that he knew the answer to one of the riddles. "Go ahead, Master Willy, have a go. And if you're right, you can select a prize from the top of my desk." Last edited by Child of the 7th Age; 05-11-2005 at 12:33 AM.

05-09-2005, 10:01 AM	#1
Angel_Queen Animated Skeleton Join Date: Oct 2003 Location: cloud in the sky Posts: 36	Ravon She looked at Lewis. For once she was the happiest person in the world. "Lewis you know I will." She jumped out of her seat and hugged the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. She knew now that nothing was going to take him away from her. At about that time Lewis' brother walked in the Green Dragon. He had a big smile across his face. She looked at him. "Did you know about this?" __________________ When life throws you lemons make lemonade. But when life throws you a rotten tomato throw it at life. Life is sweet enjoy it, that is unless its a lemon, then its sour.

05-09-2005, 12:06 PM	#2
Fordim Hedgethistle Gibbering Gibbet Join Date: Feb 2004 Location: Beyond cloud nine Posts: 1,844	Hearpwine’s delight was apparent when he learned of Mithalwen’s craft, and in token of esteem to it he rose and bowed deeply to her. “My compliments once more to you Lady, for devoting your talents to such a lofty goal! I know but little of the instruments of Elves, but they are things of surpassing beauty in both form and function. There is a small harp in particular that I adore. It has many strings and is made of a fine, light wood from Lorién. Many’s the time have I been moved to tears simply by the sound of its chords.” Mithalwen looked wary. “You would not ask of me to make you such an instrument would you, Master Bard?” Hearpwine laughed. “Nay, Lady, I would not presume. My old master always thought me overbold – reckless even – but my impetuousness would never extend that far! Besides, in my land the Bard is expected to make his own instrument. Behold!” he pulled forth his harp once more, brandishing it in the air between them. “I fashioned this from the wood of an ancient tree that had been hewn by the foul creatures of Mordor when their kind befouled beautiful Ithilien. I sang a lament over the bole of the great beech before cutting it to the heart. The wood inside was clean and pure, and formed of straight lines, and from that I was able to make an instrument that is considered amongst the finest of my kind, although I am sure that to a maker such as yourself it must appear as the plaything of a child.” He handed it to the Elf, eager to hear her opinion of his work but aware nonetheless that with the afternoon now underway he was expected in the schoolroom.

05-10-2005, 02:37 PM	#7
Firefoot Illusionary Holbytla Join Date: Dec 2003 Posts: 7,547	"It's a tree!" Willy answered proudly. "They've got lots of leaves in summer, but they're bare in winter 'cause they lose their leaves." Miz Bella smiled at him. "A tree, it is. Good job, Willy, and come pick out a prize." Willy hopped up out of his seat and tried to keep his pace slow as he went up to the desk. He took a look at the prizes for a moment, pretty sure he wanted the knife but not quite positive. The candies would be yummy, but they wouldn't last very long. And the leather ball looked fun, too; he had a ball but it had been used by all the lads and lasses in his family, his oldest brother being in his tweens now. But... he would have to share the ball. He had to share a lot of things with his siblings, six of them all told. A knife could be all his. Confidently, he selected the knife, glancing at Miz Bella from the corner of his eye. "Good choice," she told him. "It's sharp - be careful with it." "I will," he promised, grinning. He had started to walk back to his desk with his prize when he remembered his manners. "Thank you, Miz Bella." "You're welcome." Willy took his seat, fingering his new knife happily. And it was all his.