The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Undómë]

For a moment she thought she had caught his eye, but Farael turned away even as she raised a hand to wave to him. A man had engaged him in conversation. ‘Later, then,’ she told herself. ‘He is sure to have other interests than merely waiting for me.’

Her attention was engaged by the woman’s voice that rang out across from where she stood. The musicians on the stage had turned to listen to the song. And the one who had sung the first song seemed to listen to the Hobbit lass most intently.

There, behind the woman singer, stood an Elf in a motley of greens and browns. The colors reminded her of her former forest home as did the sweet piping she heard him playing. Telu worked her way around the edges of the crowd standing about the dance area and approached him.

‘Master Piper,’ she called, bowing slightly to him as he turned to her. ‘That was a lovely accompaniment. Where did you learn to play so sweetly?’

[Huan]

Emlin speaks with Teluyaviel

Emlin turned to face his questioner. The soft evening played about her as would a shadow – save shadows were dark and this one light. He bowed to her, a look of pleasure at her greeting on his face. ‘Emlin, at your service, m’lady,’ he said, tucking his fife into the waistband of his breeches. ‘And to be truthful, I have been playing so long, I cannot recall a time when I did not know how to do so.’

He smiled at her. ‘If I might, and if you will not presume me too bold – a bit of an old poem came to me, when first I turned and saw you.’

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

He took her hand without asking leave and twirled her about in front of him. Her dress swirled about her legs and her dark hair lifted as she moved through the light evening breeze. ‘Enchanting,’ he thought to himself.

And then again aloud as she stopped, facing him, ‘What brings someone so fair so far from . . . . the Greenwood, is it. Or do I mistake that certain lilt you have in speaking?’

----

(With respects to Lord Byron for the borrowing of his poem)

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"I was just headed over to the buffet, would you like me to fetch you anything?"

And Ariane snapped out of that melancholy mood that had seemed to swallow her for a moment, taking her away from the inner shadows and the corner she had somehow worked her mind into. It was as if something broke. She blinked hard, then looked up at the face hanging above her.

For a second she almost drifted back, but forced the music and the smells to pull her back to reality. "No, it's all right. I can get myself something. Besides, I don't know what they have." Ariane pulled herself from the chair, brushing her skirt back down and gazing around absently for a moment.

[nynnd1]

"So tell me, Master Bredan, what is a fine man from Gondor doing so far from our city? For it was all but luck that lead me into this city and this Inn"

Bredan looked at him, going straight to his eyes trying to measure if the fellow Gondorian may be told. It is all in the past for me and I have changed, Bredan thought.

“Than you do have the best of luck Farael, for I can not think of many better places for a Gondorian to end up by luck.”

Farael nodded in agreement, and the noise of laughter that came from him made up Bredans’ mind, he may be told.

“I left the great white city two years ago, heading here. I had fallen in love, or rather, I thought I had fallen in love with a lady of Gondor called Iolet, but she was already married, her husband found out and rather than risk confrontation I thought it would be better if I left, she of course did not come with me.”

Bredan than had a terrible thought that maybe he had come to find him, for most people that Bredan knew in Gondor knew how Bredan loved the shire and stories about Hobbits. Bredan looked down to see if Farael was carrying a weapon, he was not. Don’t be silly Bredan, you’re being paranoid.

Bredan carried on,

“I had of course been told many stories about the shire and had wanted to come here. On the way I was attacked by bandits, they killed my horse and robbed me of everything I had, I managed to escape with only my sword, I managed to find my way here to the Green Dragon. I then went and borrowed a horse from Meriadoc Brandybuck and found the bandits to get back my possessions, and I found a lot more besides. So I returned here just today.”

Bredan realised that he had changed the mood slightly with his quite long story, he also realised that his fellow Gondorian had drunk all of his ale whilst listening,

“What say you that we go and get some more ale and you can tell me about your good fortune to end up in Hobbiton?” Bredan said flashing a big smile at Farael.

[Farael]

What say you that we go and get some more ale and you can tell me about your good fortune to end up in Hobbiton?...

Farael chuckled, as he noticed his mug was empty. "No Sir, I'm afraid I will not get any more ale for the time being. I have had plenty and I would not want to force any of these hobbitses to pull me to my room if I drink too much. But I'll walk with you and get some of that lemonade. I've heard it's almost as good as the ale." They headed to one of the big tables on the side and helped themselves to more drinks. "I guess we have more in common than what I thought, Master Bredan, as I was coming here with some of my father's fellow merchants when I left them following a trail that I believed was made by orcs." His face hardened, his disgust for those creatures obvious. "The trail lead me no-where, but when I caught up with the rest of the merchants they had been assaulted. By men, not orcs. They went back to the white city, I went into the forests to find the bandits yet I had no luck. Nor I met anyone as important... what is Master Meriadoc like? I've heard he is a very smart ma... hobbit."

Farael looked up and saw Telu talking to another elf, he nodded although Bredan could not see what he was nodding at. "I have not a story about love to tell, but I am sorry you had to escape the white city for a woman..." He looked away, and added almost for himself "... most of them are not worth it"

[Noinkling]

Notch was puzzled by the quietness of the common room as he woke up. His little burrow by the fireplace was snug and warm and he almost shrugged off the lack of talking and feet scuffling along the floor and went back to sleep. But he was a curious mouse at heart.

He poked his little nose out sniffing for the smells of supper. Faint it was. Daring a further venture he eased out his head and looked about with his bright black eyes. Except for a few of the old fellows who were permanent fixtures at the Inn, the room was empty.

Eyes and ears alert; little feet scurrying along the wooden floor, Notch made for the door.

[Folwren]

Wren held the kitchen door open so that Ginger could come through, both her hands laden, one with a basket of rolls to replace the one that sat momentarily empty on the table, and another with a plate of cookies. She cast Wren a smile to thank her and the girl grinned back and skipped out before the hobbit to make sure that nothing was in her way when she arrived at the tables laden with food.

When she was relieved of her burden, Ginger turned to Wren, who still fluttered about her, and gave her leave to go and do what she would - the work, at present, was finished. Wren nodded and waved and set off in search of her brother.

She found him shortly and they stopped and surveyed one another. He had been given a clean shirt and he had had the wits to wash his face and comb his hair back from his forehead. As for Wren, Ginger had gone to considerable lengths doing the little girl up. The dress she wore fit her well, and was perfectly pressed, and they had brushed and combed her hair until it shone and then pulled back the top and sides. She didn’t have the tumbling curls that hobbits possessed, but there was a slight wave in her dark hair that couldn’t be called unattractive.

“You look very well, Tim,” Wren said coming up to him.

“Ah, I guess,” Tim replied. As most boys probably are, he wasn’t too enthusiastic about having to dress and look nice. “Where’ve you been all this time?”

“In the kitchen, helping getting everything ready to bring out here and serve. Isn’t it jolly? We’ll have so much fun tonight! Do you suppose Woody and Hanson will be here tonight?”

“Well, that’s his uncle, I think, playing up there,” Tim replied motioning towards Gil and the musicians. “He did say he was his uncle, right?” Wren shrugged, still craning her neck to look and see. Tim bent to her level and putting his hand on top of her head, turned it in the right direction. “And if he’s their uncle, then they might be here tonight, too!”

“Oh, yes, I see!” Wren said with an excited hop. “Come on, come on! Let’s go see if we can find them. P’raps he’ll know if they’re here.” She started off in the direction of the general audience. There were many people about, some dancing, some eating, some talking, and some doing two things at a time. Tim went after his sister and caught her arm.

“We’re not going to interrupt them,” he told her.

“Oh, no, I know. Not at all. But Woody and Hanson will be about somewhere.” And once again she headed off, threading her way easily through the people in search of the two hobbit children she and her brother had met the previous evening. . .

[Undómë]

Tindo

Tindo had not intended to go to the party. What he had wanted to do was to pack his and Telu’s belongings, see to the care of their horses, pay what they might owe to the Dragon, and be ready at first light to leave the Inn. To return westward, to the havens, where he and Telu would sail West. And no amount of pouting lip, glaring eye, or threatened tears would sway him.

He’d finished the packing and was about to go downstairs to find something for his evening meal, when the sound of music and laughter drifted up and through the window to his room. He twitched back the curtain giving a cursory glance to the festivities below. He had nearly turned away when his eye caught sight of his sister. In her green dress, she was like a new leaf caught in a sudden breeze - he saw another Elf hold her hand and twirl her about. And on the Elf’s face seemed a look of interest and delight at the figure of his sister.

He rubbed at his forehead, a sort of exasperated ache furrowing his brow. ‘Telu, what are you doing now?’

All thought of eating fled him as he trounced down the stairs and out the door to the party. His gaze was fixed on his sister as he wove his way toward her . . .

* * * * *

Telu

Telu’s cheeks were flushed pink, from the poem Emlin had said to her and from the pressure of his hand on hers as he twirled her about. She took a deep breath in an attempt to recollect herself and a step back from him. Her eyes caught sight of Farael, across the yard from her, and she smiled, hoping he had seen her there.

‘I’ve not introduced my self,’ she began, turning her attention back to Emlin and trying to sound as normal and unflustered as she might. ‘My name is Teluyaviel. And yes, I am from the Great Green Wood.’ Her eyes clouded for a moment. ‘But of late we, my brother and I, have come from the Havens. Taking one last journey . . . at my request.’

She heard her name called from somewhere behind her. Telu turned and smiled, thinking her brother had relented and would join her at the party. ‘Tindo!’ she called back to him. ‘Come meet a new friend – Emlin.’

[Undómë]

Teluyaviel smiled gratefully at Emlin from behind her brother’s back. The older Elf’s courteous words had engaged Tindomion, who now felt he had someone of equal standing who might understand and sympathize with him. She backed away as Tindo began his complaint about her, mouthing a heartfelt ‘Sorry!’ to Emlin as she did so.

She wormed her way through the crowd, putting as much distance between herself and Tindo as she could. A short ways away now, she saw Farael. He was sitting with two other men. Eating and drinking and looking as if they were enjoying each other’s company.

Telu pushed back her long dark hair, catching a few stray tendrils behind her ears. She shook out the skirt of her green dress and took a deep breath. The men looked quite engaged with each other, but making herself bold she approached the table.

‘Would you have room at this merry table for one more to join you?’ she asked, a smile dimpling her face.

[Arry]

Gammer Boffin, Woody, and Hanson arrive . . .

Gammer Boffin turned her little cart into the lane leading down to the Inn and clucked at the pony to speed him up. ‘Step lively, Strawfoot!’ she called to him. ‘Don’t want to miss the party.’ She turned to her great grandsons, Woody, eleven years, and Hanson, five, who sat squirming on the seat next to her.

‘Seems old Strawfoot ain’t listenin’ tonight lads. He’s as slow as molasses in Afteryule!’ she cackled. ‘Might as well jump down, you two, and run and get Granny a nice comfortable chair, not to far from the food and drink, mind you.’ She watched as the two little boys jumped from the slow moving cart.

‘And see if you can find Gil, will you lads? Tell him Granny’d like to sit with him a spell.’ She watched as they ran off toward the gathered crowd of partygoers. With a sigh and another cluck of her tongue she turned Strawfoot toward the stable and let him amble along.

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

Gil

Make a fool of yourself in love . . . the words seemed to echo about in his head as he walked to where Rowan stood, leaning against the end of a table near the casks of ale.

She watched him as he drew near, her eyes glancing at him with a hint of mischief over the rim of her mug. She scooted over, making room for him to lean against the table, too. He cleared his throat, intending to say something clever, but nothing came out. And suddenly his throat was parched, his tongue as dry as a bone.

He turned and raised his brows enquiringly at her; his hand going up toward his mouth as he mimed drinking. Not waiting for her to say ‘yes’, he took the mug from her hands and swallowed a big gulp.

[Arry]

Woody hung back, feeling awkward at the approach of the girl. He smiled at her a little, noting how pretty she was in her party dress.

‘Oh, come on, you big chicken!’ cried Hanson. ‘It’s our friend, Wren. She won’t bite you!’ He grabbed onto Woody’s vest and tugged him forward.

‘We’re supposed to be finding Gil! Gran said so,’ hissed Woody, in an attempt to recover some measure of control over the situation..

‘Oh, Gilly-snilly! You know he’s around here someplace. The other guys are up there playing and singing. And besides – you know Gran has found some neighbor of hers and forgotten all about sending us after Gil by now.’

‘Wren!’ Hanson said, smiling. ‘Boy are we happy to see you!’ He glanced quickly about the large party area. ‘Which way to the table with the cakes on it?’

Woody rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming next.

‘Want to help us sneak one off . . . all for ourselves?’