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

Larien Telemnar · 06-22-2005, 04:45 PM

Larien sat quietly and listened to the Bard's song. She found herself transported by the very utterances of the song. She closed her eyes and tilted her head toward the ceiling, her hood falling off in the process. When the song ended, she slowly returned to reality to find that Hearpwine had seated himself once more and was looking at her expectantly.

She blushed, ashamed at having been caught in her reverie. She cleared her throat slightly and sat upright, self consciously rubbing the hem of her cloak in her fingers.

'That was beautiful, Lord Hearpwine. I hope you will grace us with another song before the evening ends.' She smiled and looked down at her hands. 'I suppose you wish to hear my story, as well as the story of the song?' She turned to Ginger. 'You've already heard it, I believe. The child in the song was so young, she should not have remembered that fateful night, but she did. The man who found the babe was an Elf of Imladris, Lord Elrond, to be exact. The child he named Larien, who grew up as his adopted daughter, sometimes living in Imladris, sometimes in Lorien. She now sits before you.' Larien closed her eyes breifly, remember sadly that night of her parents death.

'So you see, Lord Hearpwine, this is how I know of such things. I came to the Shire to discover how my kinspeople live. I have but the dimmest hope that I might discover the names of my birth parents, and perhaps the name given me as a babe.' She opened her eyes and smiled. 'It is how I had hoped. I am welcome here, for which I am thankfull.'

Kath · 06-23-2005, 02:51 AM

Astilwen laughed at the interaction between the Elf and her wolf cub. It reminded her a little of her youngest brother, whose food rarely even got as far as his mouth most days.

"We havn't even been properly introduced, what is your name young Hobbit lass?" asked the Elf.

"My name is Astilwen. It's a bit of a mouthful for a Hobbit I know but that's what you get when you have parents who are friends with Mayor Gamgee and his companions, they liked the foreign sounding names from the tales you see. What is your name?"

Arry · 06-24-2005, 01:20 AM

‘Uncle Gil! Look what we’ve got!’

Woody and Hanson came running toward Gil as he and his companions were talking about the next tune to play. Gil was leaning toward just a jig or reel. His throat was dry and a bit raspy, and he wanted to rest it for a bit.

The band’s eyes all turned to Gil’s two nephews as they came tinkling up merrily to the little stage. Words came tumbling from the boy’s lips helter-skelter. An Elf nearly taken off and eaten; a dragon in the dark beneath the table; magic bells; the open window; the escape and the rescue. A few moments of gentle redirection and questioning and the whole story came through in a more sensible way. That is, as sensible as a dragon in the Inn could get.

Behind Hanson and Woody stood Emlin, his face drawn into a serious pose, eyes twinkling. He was nodding his head at the story the two lads told. ‘Saved me, they did,’ he declared, putting hand to heart in a dramatic gesture.

And behind him stood Rowan, a tin whistle held lightly in her hand, her brown eyes gleaming merrily.

Huan · 06-24-2005, 02:19 AM

‘I’ve brought my little pipe,’ Rowan said. ‘And Tolly’s brought his drum. We thought perhaps the brave young lads could join in with their bells.’ She laughed merrily as she lifted her pipe to her lips.

‘Something for the ladies, this time,’ Tolly went on. ‘A little jig, we thought, to set them dancing.

Rowan turned to the room and swept the crowd with her eyes. ‘Push back the tables a bit, won’t you now. We’ve a jig to set your toes tapping. Cherish the Ladies, it is. Come ladies! Choose your partners for the dance.’ She blew a note on her whistle, to let the others know the key she’d play in. She started first and the others joined in the sprightly melody.

When the last note was played the dancers crowded about the little stage and called for another. Emlin joined the others on stage and took out his own whistle, nearly a twin to Rowan's but pitched a little higher, like the song of a wee bird.

Rowan played the opening bars with the others, then held her whistle in her hand as she harmonized with her brother on another danceable tune.

♪ --- ♫ --- ♪

Oh, the days of the Shire dancing
Oh, the ring of the piper's tune
Oh, for one of those hours of gladness
Gone, alas, like our youth, too soon!

When the boys began to gather
In the glen of a summer's night
And the Shire piper's tuning
Made us long with wild delight!
Oh, to think of it
Oh, to dream of it
Fills my heart with tears!

Oh, the days of the Shire dancing
Oh, the ring of the piper's tune
Oh, for one of those hours of gladness
Gone, alas, like our youth, too soon!

Was there ever a sweeter lass
In the dance than Blossom Appledore
Or a prouder lad than Minto
As he boldly took the floor.

Lads and lasses to your places
Up the middle and down again
Ah, the merry hearted laughter
Ringing through the happy glen!
Oh, to think of it
Oh, to dream of it
Fills my heart with tears!

Oh, the days of the Shire dancing
Oh, the ring of the piper's tune
Oh, for one of those hours of gladness
Gone, alas, like our youth, too soon!

Time goes on, and the happy years are dead
And one by one the merry hearts are fled
Silent now is the wild and lonely glen
Where the bright glad laugh will echo ne'er again
Only dreaming of days gone by in my heart I hear.

Loving voices of old companions
Stealing out of the past once more
And the sound of the dear old music
Soft and sweet as in days of yore.

When the boys began to gather
In the glen of a summer's night
And the Shire piper's tuning
Made us long with wild delight!
Oh, to think of it
Oh, to dream of it
Fills my heart with tears!

Oh, the days of the Shire dancing
Oh, the ring of the piper's tune
Oh, for one of those hours of gladness
Gone, alas, like our youth, too soon!

♪ --- ♫ --- ♪

They played the chorus twice at the end. The dancers stopped as the repeat began and sang the words along with the band.

Lasbelinion · 06-24-2005, 02:47 AM

Look how they move together, and apart. Each following the other’s steps.

Lithmîrë set his mug on the table. He leaned forward a little, pressing against the edge of the table as he watched the dancers and the musicians. Sometimes, in his travels, he had heard the notes of some distant piper through the trees. But he never thought to pause and listen to the whole of the tune; instead, he’d scurried away to put further distance between himself and the chance meeting with another. And dancing . . . he could not recall it; though, he knew that in his early days there must have been music and dancing.

Some unclear song hovered on the edges of his memory . . . but no images came to flesh it out.

He looked closely at the odd assortment of players. Halfling, Elf, Man. None seemed bent on being one up on the other. Sometimes one led, sometimes another. There was a certain grace to the way they bowed to one another, inviting each to take a turn. They were as much dancers with their instruments as were those who moved about on the floor in front of their little stage.

It was comforting, this music and movements that they made. He found it put him at ease, in a way. Mistress Bunce was enjoying it, he thought. Her foot was tapping lightly on the floor to the rhythms and she had a smile on her face as she watched the dancers.

‘You don’t have to stay here with me,’ he said in a low voice to her. ‘I’ll be happy to mind the teapot and the plate of tarts . . . if you want to dance, that is.’

Esgallhugwen · 06-24-2005, 10:34 AM

"My name is Esgallhugwen, my friends call me Eswen, it's much shorter you see and they don't run out of breath trying to pronounce it", she smiled down upon the young Hobbit Astilwen.

"Your name holds much beauty in it, Astilwen of the Shire, you are lucky to have parents with such cultured friends, many names of the Elves can suit the mirth of your kin, but many others like my own would have your poor tongues stumbling for days"

She laughed, not at Astilwen, but at her own foolishness, she cared to forget the hurtful things of her own life, but as soon as she left the Shire she would have to come back to reality. She looked for Uien and Falowik, they lay under the Hawthorn still.

Esgallhugwen wondered if she had awoken Falowik with her rioutous laughter. however fluid and lyrical it may have been. And all the while she had heard the singing from within, both happy and sad.

Mithalwen · 06-24-2005, 01:41 PM

Gilthalion

A horse and rider enter the yard. The horse's dark coat and the dark raiment of it's rider blend into the night. The rider slipped soundlessly from his mount and approached the grey horse standing there. To some the figure might have brought back evil memories of some years ago when the Black Riders had come searching for Baggins but this was no evil servant.

"Well met at last, Aeglos my friend, where is your mistress?" . The voice marked the horseman as one of the eldar. And he did not need an answer for he saw what he sought through the tavern's window. An elf maid in the corner hunched over some papers lit by a guttering candle. He smiled a brief smile and made for the door.

Mithalwen had nearly finished her missives - to Camille, Marigold, and even the hardest one to Uien and was debating whether to leave a note for Snaveling when she felt again the strange sensation that she had been ignoring all day. She had assumed it was merely an awareness that some of her kindred were travelling through the Shire - certainly there were several even here at the inn - and she had had no clear impression that one was trying to reach her mind. But she also knew she had closed her mind when she had caught the edge of Uien's private storm. So again she ignored it and concentrated on her script " I will be at Wood Hall soon enough" she thought. She had a clear hand and for the child recipients she had decorated her letters with drawings of flowers and animals. She had nearly finished a very lifelike sketch of Aeglos on the corner of Marigold's letter when a familiar voice spoke quietly at her shoulder: "How much longer will you let that poor beast wait while you draw his picture?" .

She could not mistake the voice but neither could she believe she was hearing it in waking life, "Gilthalion! What are you doing here? "

"Looking for you". He sat down opposite her and cast back his hood. Although his hair was raven and hers silver their features mirrored each other; they had the same aquiline nose and high cheekbones, though the maid's were finer drawn than the man's, and the same grey eyes stared at each other, one set with amazement the other with amusement.

"But you don't travel - surely the last time you left Imladris was Third Age 1975?" Mithalwen teased.. Gilthalion narrowed his eyes - it had taken about a minute for the childhood pattern of sibling behaviour to reestablish itself despite their childhood being an age of the world away.

"I do not travel often by choice that is true - but it is not so long... I went to Minas Tirith for the wedding of the Lady Arwen - and you do not seem to pleased to see your brother". He watched her carefully - even after so long the word Gondor had the same effect on her as Mordor had on him. She elided the reference but he knew something had closed up inside her at the mention.

"Of course - I am delighted - I was coming to see you, but to meet you here is so strange... there is much to explain it seems" she answered.

"Indeed but first a drink - and food if they are serving still... have you eaten?"

Mithalwen shook her head ruefully " I spent all my money trying to help people.."

" Oh Mithalwen - you too have explanations - but first we will eat and I will pay". Gilthalion rose and went to the kitchen to see if there was anything left but before he did so, his sister rose and embraced him. For although these twain had their differences and been even sundered for a time, Gilthalion and his family were the only close kin Mithalwen had in Middle Earth and the bond between them was strong.

06-23-2005, 02:51 AM	#2
Kath Everlasting Whiteness Join Date: Jan 2004 Location: Perusing the laminated book of dreams Posts: 4,533	Astilwen laughed at the interaction between the Elf and her wolf cub. It reminded her a little of her youngest brother, whose food rarely even got as far as his mouth most days. "We havn't even been properly introduced, what is your name young Hobbit lass?" asked the Elf. "My name is Astilwen. It's a bit of a mouthful for a Hobbit I know but that's what you get when you have parents who are friends with Mayor Gamgee and his companions, they liked the foreign sounding names from the tales you see. What is your name?" __________________ “If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”

06-24-2005, 01:20 AM	#3
Arry Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Jan 2004 Posts: 704	‘Uncle Gil! Look what we’ve got!’ Woody and Hanson came running toward Gil as he and his companions were talking about the next tune to play. Gil was leaning toward just a jig or reel. His throat was dry and a bit raspy, and he wanted to rest it for a bit. The band’s eyes all turned to Gil’s two nephews as they came tinkling up merrily to the little stage. Words came tumbling from the boy’s lips helter-skelter. An Elf nearly taken off and eaten; a dragon in the dark beneath the table; magic bells; the open window; the escape and the rescue. A few moments of gentle redirection and questioning and the whole story came through in a more sensible way. That is, as sensible as a dragon in the Inn could get. Behind Hanson and Woody stood Emlin, his face drawn into a serious pose, eyes twinkling. He was nodding his head at the story the two lads told. ‘Saved me, they did,’ he declared, putting hand to heart in a dramatic gesture. And behind him stood Rowan, a tin whistle held lightly in her hand, her brown eyes gleaming merrily. __________________ If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world – J.R.R. Tolkien

06-24-2005, 02:47 AM	#5
Lasbelinion Pile O'Bones Join Date: Apr 2005 Posts: 24	Look how they move together, and apart. Each following the other’s steps. Lithmîrë set his mug on the table. He leaned forward a little, pressing against the edge of the table as he watched the dancers and the musicians. Sometimes, in his travels, he had heard the notes of some distant piper through the trees. But he never thought to pause and listen to the whole of the tune; instead, he’d scurried away to put further distance between himself and the chance meeting with another. And dancing . . . he could not recall it; though, he knew that in his early days there must have been music and dancing. Some unclear song hovered on the edges of his memory . . . but no images came to flesh it out. He looked closely at the odd assortment of players. Halfling, Elf, Man. None seemed bent on being one up on the other. Sometimes one led, sometimes another. There was a certain grace to the way they bowed to one another, inviting each to take a turn. They were as much dancers with their instruments as were those who moved about on the floor in front of their little stage. It was comforting, this music and movements that they made. He found it put him at ease, in a way. Mistress Bunce was enjoying it, he thought. Her foot was tapping lightly on the floor to the rhythms and she had a smile on her face as she watched the dancers. ‘You don’t have to stay here with me,’ he said in a low voice to her. ‘I’ll be happy to mind the teapot and the plate of tarts . . . if you want to dance, that is.’ __________________ 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…

06-24-2005, 10:34 AM	#6
Esgallhugwen Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Jun 2003 Location: Where the Moon cries against the snow Posts: 526	Esgallhugwen "My name is Esgallhugwen, my friends call me Eswen, it's much shorter you see and they don't run out of breath trying to pronounce it", she smiled down upon the young Hobbit Astilwen. "Your name holds much beauty in it, Astilwen of the Shire, you are lucky to have parents with such cultured friends, many names of the Elves can suit the mirth of your kin, but many others like my own would have your poor tongues stumbling for days" She laughed, not at Astilwen, but at her own foolishness, she cared to forget the hurtful things of her own life, but as soon as she left the Shire she would have to come back to reality. She looked for Uien and Falowik, they lay under the Hawthorn still. Esgallhugwen wondered if she had awoken Falowik with her rioutous laughter. however fluid and lyrical it may have been. And all the while she had heard the singing from within, both happy and sad. __________________ "...for the sin of the idolater is not that he worships stone, but that he worships one stone over others. -8:9:4 The Witness of Fane"

06-24-2005, 01:41 PM	#7
Mithalwen Pilgrim Soul Join Date: May 2004 Location: watching the wonga-wonga birds circle... Posts: 9,459	Gilthalion A horse and rider enter the yard. The horse's dark coat and the dark raiment of it's rider blend into the night. The rider slipped soundlessly from his mount and approached the grey horse standing there. To some the figure might have brought back evil memories of some years ago when the Black Riders had come searching for Baggins but this was no evil servant. "Well met at last, Aeglos my friend, where is your mistress?" . The voice marked the horseman as one of the eldar. And he did not need an answer for he saw what he sought through the tavern's window. An elf maid in the corner hunched over some papers lit by a guttering candle. He smiled a brief smile and made for the door. Mithalwen had nearly finished her missives - to Camille, Marigold, and even the hardest one to Uien and was debating whether to leave a note for Snaveling when she felt again the strange sensation that she had been ignoring all day. She had assumed it was merely an awareness that some of her kindred were travelling through the Shire - certainly there were several even here at the inn - and she had had no clear impression that one was trying to reach her mind. But she also knew she had closed her mind when she had caught the edge of Uien's private storm. So again she ignored it and concentrated on her script " I will be at Wood Hall soon enough" she thought. She had a clear hand and for the child recipients she had decorated her letters with drawings of flowers and animals. She had nearly finished a very lifelike sketch of Aeglos on the corner of Marigold's letter when a familiar voice spoke quietly at her shoulder: "How much longer will you let that poor beast wait while you draw his picture?" . She could not mistake the voice but neither could she believe she was hearing it in waking life, "Gilthalion! What are you doing here? " "Looking for you". He sat down opposite her and cast back his hood. Although his hair was raven and hers silver their features mirrored each other; they had the same aquiline nose and high cheekbones, though the maid's were finer drawn than the man's, and the same grey eyes stared at each other, one set with amazement the other with amusement. "But you don't travel - surely the last time you left Imladris was Third Age 1975?" Mithalwen teased.. Gilthalion narrowed his eyes - it had taken about a minute for the childhood pattern of sibling behaviour to reestablish itself despite their childhood being an age of the world away. "I do not travel often by choice that is true - but it is not so long... I went to Minas Tirith for the wedding of the Lady Arwen - and you do not seem to pleased to see your brother". He watched her carefully - even after so long the word Gondor had the same effect on her as Mordor had on him. She elided the reference but he knew something had closed up inside her at the mention. "Of course - I am delighted - I was coming to see you, but to meet you here is so strange... there is much to explain it seems" she answered. "Indeed but first a drink - and food if they are serving still... have you eaten?" Mithalwen shook her head ruefully " I spent all my money trying to help people.." " Oh Mithalwen - you too have explanations - but first we will eat and I will pay". Gilthalion rose and went to the kitchen to see if there was anything left but before he did so, his sister rose and embraced him. For although these twain had their differences and been even sundered for a time, Gilthalion and his family were the only close kin Mithalwen had in Middle Earth and the bond between them was strong. __________________ “But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the trees in Eldamar.” Christopher Tolkien, Requiescat in pace Last edited by Mithalwen; 06-25-2005 at 11:21 AM.

06-22-2005, 04:45 PM	#1
Larien Telemnar Wight Join Date: May 2005 Location: Frogmorton, The Shire, Middle-Earth Posts: 110	Larien sat quietly and listened to the Bard's song. She found herself transported by the very utterances of the song. She closed her eyes and tilted her head toward the ceiling, her hood falling off in the process. When the song ended, she slowly returned to reality to find that Hearpwine had seated himself once more and was looking at her expectantly. She blushed, ashamed at having been caught in her reverie. She cleared her throat slightly and sat upright, self consciously rubbing the hem of her cloak in her fingers. 'That was beautiful, Lord Hearpwine. I hope you will grace us with another song before the evening ends.' She smiled and looked down at her hands. 'I suppose you wish to hear my story, as well as the story of the song?' She turned to Ginger. 'You've already heard it, I believe. The child in the song was so young, she should not have remembered that fateful night, but she did. The man who found the babe was an Elf of Imladris, Lord Elrond, to be exact. The child he named Larien, who grew up as his adopted daughter, sometimes living in Imladris, sometimes in Lorien. She now sits before you.' Larien closed her eyes breifly, remember sadly that night of her parents death. 'So you see, Lord Hearpwine, this is how I know of such things. I came to the Shire to discover how my kinspeople live. I have but the dimmest hope that I might discover the names of my birth parents, and perhaps the name given me as a babe.' She opened her eyes and smiled. 'It is how I had hoped. I am welcome here, for which I am thankfull.' __________________ Oh look! It's a Blog!! What's it do? Pushes button Hammer zings out SPLAT! Flat Hobbit Oh! So that's what it does! Moan Last edited by Larien Telemnar; 06-22-2005 at 06:51 PM.

06-24-2005, 02:19 AM	#4
Huan Haunting Spirit Join Date: Feb 2005 Location: Halls of Oromë Posts: 54	‘I’ve brought my little pipe,’ Rowan said. ‘And Tolly’s brought his drum. We thought perhaps the brave young lads could join in with their bells.’ She laughed merrily as she lifted her pipe to her lips. ‘Something for the ladies, this time,’ Tolly went on. ‘A little jig, we thought, to set them dancing. Rowan turned to the room and swept the crowd with her eyes. ‘Push back the tables a bit, won’t you now. We’ve a jig to set your toes tapping. Cherish the Ladies, it is. Come ladies! Choose your partners for the dance.’ She blew a note on her whistle, to let the others know the key she’d play in. She started first and the others joined in the sprightly melody. When the last note was played the dancers crowded about the little stage and called for another. Emlin joined the others on stage and took out his own whistle, nearly a twin to Rowan's but pitched a little higher, like the song of a wee bird. Rowan played the opening bars with the others, then held her whistle in her hand as she harmonized with her brother on another danceable tune. ♪ --- ♫ --- ♪ Oh, the days of the Shire dancing Oh, the ring of the piper's tune Oh, for one of those hours of gladness Gone, alas, like our youth, too soon! When the boys began to gather In the glen of a summer's night And the Shire piper's tuning Made us long with wild delight! Oh, to think of it Oh, to dream of it Fills my heart with tears! Oh, the days of the Shire dancing Oh, the ring of the piper's tune Oh, for one of those hours of gladness Gone, alas, like our youth, too soon! Was there ever a sweeter lass In the dance than Blossom Appledore Or a prouder lad than Minto As he boldly took the floor. Lads and lasses to your places Up the middle and down again Ah, the merry hearted laughter Ringing through the happy glen! Oh, to think of it Oh, to dream of it Fills my heart with tears! Oh, the days of the Shire dancing Oh, the ring of the piper's tune Oh, for one of those hours of gladness Gone, alas, like our youth, too soon! Time goes on, and the happy years are dead And one by one the merry hearts are fled Silent now is the wild and lonely glen Where the bright glad laugh will echo ne'er again Only dreaming of days gone by in my heart I hear. Loving voices of old companions Stealing out of the past once more And the sound of the dear old music Soft and sweet as in days of yore. When the boys began to gather In the glen of a summer's night And the Shire piper's tuning Made us long with wild delight! Oh, to think of it Oh, to dream of it Fills my heart with tears! Oh, the days of the Shire dancing Oh, the ring of the piper's tune Oh, for one of those hours of gladness Gone, alas, like our youth, too soon! ♪ --- ♫ --- ♪ They played the chorus twice at the end. The dancers stopped as the repeat began and sang the words along with the band.