The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger finished up the few rooms there were left to do and hurried back down to the kitchen. She was near to bursting with her news about Wren and Tim and Miz Rosebank. She rushed from the stairs to the kitchen’s door, waving at a few customers who had tried to give her their meal orders. ‘Buttercup’ll be round!’ she’d said hastily to them as she hurried by.

The doors flew open with a loud bang as she flew threw them. A moment of guilt assailed her, knowing Cook did not like her walls scuffed by the doors in such a manner. ‘Cook!’ she called out, throwing caution aside. This news was much too urgent to care about the condition of the wall paint.

‘Cook?’ she said again, but this time in a questioning voice. The kitchen was empty. Pans of rolls had been set by the stove to finish rising, clean lined towels carefully covering them. The big cauldron of thick mutton, vegetable, and barley soup was bubbling lazily on the hob.

‘Oh!’ Ginger huffed in an exasperated manner. ‘Here I am with a bit of good news and no one to tell it to!’ Her glance fell on the slightly opened back door . . .

[Pivli]

Violet and Vinca had taken their glasses of dandelion wine with them as they’d gone to inspect Cook’s herb garden. Vinca, it seemed had gotten a few unusual plants from a young woman passing through from Breeland. And Violet, whose own little herb-knot gardens were her bride and joy had inquired if she might see them. Her curiosity was piqued at the thought of new plants and she was already planning how she might cajole Vinca out of a cutting or two.

They were bent over a rather common looking little plant which looked much like a spiky leaved sort of hen-and-chickens; Violet leaning on her cane to steady herself. She frowned, wondering at the name it had been given. “Hullo Verra”, Vinca had said, adding it was good for healing wounds, especially burns. Vinca snapped off the end of a tall, succulent leaf, showing her the thick, clear gel that oozed out.

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of loud male voices coming from round the Inn. As fast as feet and cane could take them they hurried round to the side of the Inn and peered into the front yard – where a curious sight surprised them.

Casks of beer, mugs in disarray, and any number of local lads scurrying about as if in a competition.

[Koobdooga]

Ibun and Frór join in

Ibun was about to answer Frór’s question when the curious spectacle began to unfold before them. He stood up from his chair an incredulous smile working its way up his cheeks. Ibun’s eyes glinted as he looked at Frór and pointed to the casks and mugs that had appeared on the lawn.

‘Mahal is surely smiling down on us today, my friend!’ he exclaimed. He knocked the ashes from his pipe and ground out the live embers that fell to the floor of the Inn porch. ‘Come on!’ he said, nodding his head toward the general melee. ‘Why should the Hobbits have the reward today? We Dwarves can drink as deep as any. Let’s lend a hand!’ In a few quick steps, he was down into the yard.

[Lilly]

Lilly Greengage shifted the basket of plum preserves on her hip. Oh, not that the basket itself was filled with the preserves, that would have proven quite messy, indeed. No, the basket was stacked with ten fair-sized crocks of the purple-red delight; the top of each of sealed with a thick layer of wax. Lilly, herself, had done the ladling in and the sealing of the preserves; her Gran had done the making of them. And this year she’d let Lilly in on her secret ingredients – the ones the ladies in the Westfarthing would give their eyeteeth to know.

These were to be a present for Miz Bunce, and old friend of her Gran’s. She could use them in her plumcake or sweet rolls or just serve them up on the lovely scones she made sometimes when her Gran would visit for tea.

Pausing at the turn off to the Inn, Lilly set down the basket for a moment, rubbing her hip where the weight of it had dug in. She could see the Inn. And there in the yard, some commotion. Her blue eyes sparkled as she took in the odd sight. Well, not so odd, she thought, a smile dimpling her cheeks. She’d always thought of the Inn as a rather magical place where anything might happen.

Lilly took a moment to smooth down her green skirt and tuck her blouse in neatly. She adjusted her black wool vest, making sure the three bone buttons were all done up. Her yellow curls she pushed back from her face, putting the little carved wooden combs in to either side of her part. With a shrug she let the folds of her brown wool cape swirl into place, its little hood hanging neatly down her back. She wanted to look nice when she presented her and her Gran’s gift to Miz Bunce.

The basket once more secured against her hip, she set off toward the Inn proper, stepping off the main path, so as to avoid the goings-on in the front yard. ‘I’ll just go around to the back,’ she said, keeping eyeing the scurrying lads. It was then she looked to the side of the house and saw Miz Bunce and another lady she knew.

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Meri - Stablemaster

Tim Woodlock - Stableboy; Wren - his younger sister: humans, originally from Breeland (characters played by Folwren)

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

_____________________________________________

Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

Time of Day

It's nearing noon in the Shire.

Second breakfast is being served. Lunch is being cooked - savory mutton stew with vegetables, taters, and barley; warm rolls straight from the oven with sweet cream butter, jams, honey, cheeses; and baskets of big, nut & spice cookies to fill in any of the hollow spaces. Drinks of all sorts are of course available.

The weather is pleasant - sunny with a clear sky.

[Huan]

Rowan looked out the window, her attention drawn by the rising sounds of male voices. She stood up from her chair and crossed the short space to the window for a better view. ‘Look here!’ she said, motioning for Gil and the others to follow. ‘Looks to me as if we’re missing out on some sort of a party.’ She pointed to the casks and the fellows with mugs in their fists. ‘And isn’t that Emlin out there, tasting the wares himself.’

She laughed seeing him take a mouthful of beer. She knew he thought he might enjoy it – after all, all those others seemed to be. Fool Elf!!! Now, there he stood his cheeks bulging; his eyes, nearly bugged out. She could see the dilemma in his mind almost. Shall I be polite and swallow it? Or rid myself of the foul brew with one good spit. He was spared the decision as a Hobbit bearing an armful of mugs bumped into him, causing him to splutter and lose his mouthful.

The Hobbit was most apologetic, Rowan could see. And offered the Elf a hand up. He walked away shaking his head as the Elf, laughing loudly, waved him off.

‘C’mon, fellas!’ Rowan urged the others as she stepped quickly to the door. ‘Let’s go out and join the fun!’

[Celuien]

Robin Sandheaver came strolling down the East-West Road, whistling a tune. Morning's work was done and it was a fine day for a walk - and an even finer day for a mug of ale at the Green Dragon. Truth be told, it was the Green Dragon's fine ale that had brought Robin on his walk as much as the beautiful weather. He ambled up to the Inn's door and pushed it open.

What a scene met his eyes! Rather than the Inn's usual calm, there were folk scurrying about here, there and everywhere, stacking endless piles of mugs on the bar. Shouts and laughter filled the air along with the aromas of food cooking in the kitchen. That, at least, was expected.

"Good morning!" he called out.

"Morning!" came the breathless reply from another Hobbit in the Inn, who was hurrying past with a tray full of mugs. He grabbed Robin's arm. "Quick, join in the game. Free beer from Fordogrim to anyone who helps with the cleaning. You can't let that chance slip, can you?" The hobbit scurried off, mugs in hand.

"Free beer?" thought Robin. "This day is certainly going from good to better, and no mistake." And without further ado, he went to work gathering all of the mugs within his reach.

[piosenniel]

Cook shaded her eyes against the noonish sun and peered at the spectacle taking place in the Inn’s yard. ‘’My stars, Violet,’ she murmured, amazed at the activity taking place. ‘What’s got into them?’

She hooked her arm through Violet’s and the two of them walked cautiously toward the scurrying men. She paused for a moment, a frown on her face at the figure she saw coming toward them. ‘And look there!’ Cook said, pointing her finger at the lass with the basket perched on her hip. ‘It’s Lilly, isn’t it?

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger had just put her hand to knob on the kitchen’s door when Wren came barreling through. Seeming dazed, the girl stumbled back and looked about through tear-swollen eyes. With a sob, Wren hurtled again toward Ginger and clasped her arms about the Hobbit tightly. For her part, the twice-surprised Hobbit clasped the girl’s now sobbing form to her in as comforting a way as she might.

‘Oh, my goodness,’ Ginger said, laying head close against Wren’s as she patted her softly on the back. ‘What’s all this?’ She stepped back, holding the girl at arms’ length as she searched her face for answers. ‘It’s not that old nosey-parker, Miz Rosebank, is it? Her and her wanting to tell your old landlord where you and Tim have got off to . . . is that what’s got you bothered? You know we won’t let anyone bother you two, if that’s what’s got you worried.’ It was a big thing to promise, she thought, but Cook would take care of it, she was sure.

She led Wren over to the table and sat her down in one of the chairs. Ginger fetched her a clean, wet washrag and linen dishtowel for her face; then, brought a small pitcher of cold cider and two mugs back to the table. Sitting down near the girl, she took the towel and wiped away the rest of the wetness.

‘There now – that’s my bright eyed beauty,’ she said, using a phrase her Gammer had used on her when she was little and the tears had taken her. She put the first two fingers of her right hand beneath the girl’s chin and lifted her face up for a smiling inspection. Offering Wren a small mug of cider, Ginger picked up her own cup and took a swallow. ‘Or is there something else has put a burr under your blanket. Someone else as has upset you?’ She sat back a little, giving Wren some space to in which to answer.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordogrim was overwhelmed by the enthusiastic response of the Inn’s patrons to his proposed contest. A flurry of feet carried an army of hands out into the yard and the mugs were soon being piled up upon the restored bar with such rapidity that he had no hope of keeping score. Oh dear, he began to worry, however am I going to decide who the winner is? Will I have to give a cask to each of the helpers? A quick count showed him that even this would be impossible.

A silence fell on the yard as the last of the mugs were placed upon the bar and all eyes turned to Fordogrim for his decision. A bird called in the distance and the sun shone down upon the crowd as though she too were expecting a free cask of ale. Fordogrim put on a brave face and stepped forward to meet the crowd. He held his chin up (the better to look into their faces) and with practised nonchalance began to address them. “My friends and customers!” he said. “There’s not words enough as can express my gratitude for your help, so as I like to say, when words fail let the beer do the speaking! Step up for your free sample of my wares!” But there was a chorus of voices from those who wanted to know who had won the mug stacking contest, and thus the free cask of beer. Fordogrim smacked his forehead with an apparent display of absent-mindedness. “Why, yes, of course the winner of the contest. Why it was a well-fought battle, and there’s no mistake – there wasn’t but a few of you who stacked a right amount of mugs. And to tell the truth, but it was such a race that I found it that hard to keep track of who it was who stacked the most.” A ripple of unhappy surprise – even some anger – went through the crowd, but Fordogrim pressed ahead as though nothing were wrong. “Have no fear, no fear, we can determine a winner yet. Most of you had the good sense to stack your mugs together, so if we can rest upon the honesty of the good folk gathered here we can lay this to rest right fair and square. Now, as far as I can tell there’s three stacks as are the tallest – who is it as made them up?”

It was quickly determined that the three stacks in question were the work of a Dwarf named Ibun, the hobbit Robin Sandheaver and a lass named Rowan. At Fordogrim’s rather dramatic insistence the three finalists stood forth. “Now,” he cried “we shall a-count the number of mugs in each stack to determine the day’s winner!” But at this there was an outcry from some of the crowd that Ibun and Rowan had been helped in their stacks by other folk, while Robin had made his on his own. Fordogrim saw which way the wind was blowing and raised his hands. “My friends, my friends, please…PLEASE! This is a friendly Inn, known throughout the Shire for its conviviality” (he threw that word in to slow the crowd down, most of whom would have to work it out for themselves) “let’s not a-ruin that reputation with harsh words. My beer is back for your drinking pleasure so help yourselves to it – drink up! In the meantime these three champion stackers and I will step aside and settle amongst ourselves who the winner may be!”

[Koobdooga]

‘No harsh words here, Master Fordogrim,’ said Ibun. ‘Seeing as how you’re so generous with your fine brew . . .’ He raised the mug that had been thrust upon him and took a long pull on the fresh and foaming beer. With an economy of motion he sucked the skiff of foam that rimed the edges of his mustache into his waiting mouth. ‘Yes . . . very fine brew, a right treasure! So much so, that I am carried away by its essence.’

A rumble began deep in his chest, and what sounded at first to be a hive of angry bees droning grew into a song:

So my friends, Mahal be with you,
And watch o’er you until
We can a' meet here together,
And our mugs we then refill.
We'll drink a health t’ absent friends
And make the beer and whisky flow,

So button up and aye be cheery
Take a dram afore ye go.
Button up and aye be cheery,
Drink a pint afore ye go.

He raised his mug again, and finding it empty looked round for another. Ibun chuckled as he grasped the handle of a full one a friendly hand had passed him. ‘The sort of treasure in fact that need be shared and not horded. I’ll drink my fill of your good beer, if you will; my belly will be all the cask I’ll need. Let one of the others take the barreled prize.’

Ibun nodded toward Robin and Rowan, and stepped back beside Frór. ‘If they argue long over this,’ he said in a low voice to his friend, ‘we Dwarves will have drunk the casks dry anyway. ‘Twill all be moot!’ He cast an interested eye back on the proceedings and accepted another refill.

[Celuien]

"What a pretty pickle you've gotten yourself into now, Robin Sandheaver!" the hobbit thought to himself. "You should've listened to your old Gaffer warning you against contests and such nonsense."

Aloud, Robin said, "No harsh words here either, Master Fordogrim. 'Twas quite a confusion in all the rush to help. And what else could be expected, seeing as how your beer is most excellent. I can't say as I rightly know who stacked the most mugs myself. But should I be chosen the winner..." Robin paused. He wanted the cask. But most of the hobbits in the room were his friends, and he didn't want to anger them either. He cleared his throat. "Should I be chosen the winner," he started again, "I'll share the cask with everyone here. They all had a helping hand in the business too."

Mourning the loss of a full cask of beer to himself, Robin withdrew and stepped inside the Inn to order a plate of warm rolls and honey. Stacking the mugs had been quite a job, and he was hungry.

[Undómë]

Teluyaviel turned back to Illidan with a smile on her face. ‘We’re not so far from our home. At least our new home.’ She turned to her brother, Tindomion, and smiled again. ‘Our parents moved us to Mithlond. They’re bound for the West. I wanted one last visit to these fair lands. To the new Ithilien, where I’ve heard many of our people have gone to settle.’

Outside the window, near where they sat, Telu saw a number of Hobbits and Men arranging tables on the lawn. ‘Look!’ She put her hand on Tindo’s arm, drawing his attention to the scene outdoors. ‘What are they doing?’

A voice from behind , one of the servers who’d brought a refill for their mugs, spoke up. ‘It’s a party, Miss. This evening. With music and singing and dancing. And plenty of ale, of course.’

‘Oh! We’ll go of course. Won’t we, Tindo?’

Tindomion, for his part, sighed and waved his hand at her in a manner indicating they would.

[Pivli]

The cookie dough was soon all made into cookies and had been put in the oven to bake. Violet took Lilly out into the common room, saying that it might be best if they left the kitchen to Cook and the servers until after lunch was done.

They found a table near the fireplace. Violet enjoyed the heat of the flames; they warmed her aging joints and kept the chill from her spare frame. Buttercup came over to take their orders. ‘A small bowl of stew for me, dearie,’ Violet told her. ‘And what about you, Lilly? My treat.’

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio) - AWAY AT PRESENT

Meri - Stablemaster

Tim Woodlock - Stableboy; Wren - his younger sister: humans, originally from Breeland (characters played by Folwren)

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

_____________________________________________

Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Lilly]

Lilly’s head bobbed up, despite the cautionary expression she read on Rose’s face. And there he was. She looked the fellow over carefully, noting he was neatly dressed and that about him seemed to hover a definite air of self-assuredness.

‘Can’t place him. That is, as far as name or where he’s from. But he does look like the fellow who was in the front yard a while ago. With barrels of ale, I think. And a very low table as I recall.’

She decided to one up the brewer. Looking directly at him, her blue eyes glinting with mischief, she gave him a quick smile. ‘Go on,’ she said, nudging Rose on the arm. ‘Call his bluff. Give him a look over.’

[Folwren]

Tim was still smiling at Gerdy’s way of carrying on when Fordogrim addressed him. He turned his attention to him. When Fordogrim expressed his wish of being introduced to the three hobbit ladies sitting a little way away, Tim found himself a little surprised.

“Well, I’ve not been here longer than last night, and I’ve never clapped eyes on them either,” he said. “But, if you want me to go ask them over, I can.” He glanced towards the girls. The two younger ones were speaking together and then one looked across. He couldn’t tell if she looked at Fordogrim or himself, but he guessed that she had her eye directed towards the hobbit. “It looks like I won’t have to do much convincing,” he said, getting up. “I’ll go out and see that everything is taken care of in the stables afterwards.” He nodded to Fordogrim and walked forward.

It never occurred to him in any light or form what a ridiculous proposition he was about to make. He found no reason to be embarrassed by the question he was sent to deliver, though had he been much older he might have. He did wonder why Fordogrim hadn’t asked them himself, but didn’t trouble with trying to figure out an answer.

The two young ladies at the table were aware of his approach as soon as it had come, and their older companion had noticed him before he stopped by the table.

“Excuse me,” he said, more for forms sake than to get their attention. He already had it. “Mr. Fordogrim over there,” he nodded his head in that general direction, “was wondering if you wouldn’t mind joining him for the remainder of lunch.”

[Pivli]

Violet glanced up at the boy as he approached. Her niece and their new dinner companion, Rose, were looking past the young messenger and at the original source of the message. Violet leaned forward a little, the better to hear what the boy was saying. At the same time she tapped her cane twice on the floor, drawing the attention of Lilly and Rose.

‘Mr. Fordogrim, you say,’ Violet said, looking over to where the Hobbit sat. Nicely enough dressed, she thought. There were two other fellows sitting with him, clouds of pipeweed smoke floating above their heads.

‘Well, now,’ she began. ‘It looks as if Mr. Fordogrim has finished his lunch.’ She looked at the three bowls on her table. She and the two girls were about halfway through their stew. ‘Perhaps we should just finish our lunch here, and then join him. Seems awkward, don’t you think, girls, to drag our half eaten food to another table.’