The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Thinlómien]

Merry tunes reached Grimhorn's ears as he walked towards the inn that he had been recommended. The Green Dragon, he thought and grinned to himself. Interesting choice for a name for an inn at these parts of the world.

Grimhorn, himself, was a beorning from the Anduin Vales. He was a big, hairy man, with long dark brown hair and a short beard. He was not a young man anymore; there were grey strips in his hair and beard and lines in the corners of his eyes. He had beady eyes and a big nose. A big scar ran across his left cheek. Grimhorn was not a handsome man.

He was clad all in green, his favourite colour, and carried a big axe with him. His clothes were a bit too warm in this mild country, so he had stripped off his warm cloak and was carrying it only on one shoulder.

The inn was clearly hosting a party tonight. Again, Grimhorn grinned. It had been a long while from the last time he had been to a party. And, he liked parties. And with all this prancing little folk, it will be even more funny, he thought. With the grin that he himself considered friendly, but some people considered scary, on his face he entered the party grounds.

[JennyHallu]

Losse viewed the lighted inn ahead of her with relief and interest. She'd not been able to find a suitable pony in Bree, and her city-bred feet were beginning to get to her. Though she had been travelling (albeit rather aimlessly) for months, she knew there were some things she would never enjoy, such as walking and passing through towns where people carefully locked up their livestock.

Even worse were the nights she was forced to camp. She didn't mind sleeping on rough ground, not having had regular access to a real bed since early childhood, and it wasn't too cold, considering the thickness of the cloak she'd filched before leaving Minas Tirith, and neither was she a bad hand at hunting...she was a natural hand with ranged weapons, and her small bow showed signs of being well-cared for and well used (not to mention the throwing knives she'd concealed on her person). In fact she rather enjoyed the clear nights, and the beauty of the stars. They were harder and harder to see in Minas Tirith, slowly filling again with people with the ascension of the King.

Really, it was her cooking. If she had to spend one more night eating squirrel she'd managed to leave half-raw while burning the rest, she'd scream. Or just go quietly mad, which she was seventy-five percent sure was worse.

But an inn...

As she approached, watching the silhouette of a large Man step into the lighted yard, she began to pick out the sounds of music and revelry within. An inn with a party! Perhaps she'd be able to replenish her dangerously low reserves of coin. She grinned to herself.

Thievery, what fun! Her grey eyes lit up with mischief. She was tall and slim, maybe eighteen years old, with long dark hair, and sea-grey eyes that spoke to a probably strong strain of Numenorean blood in her veins, but if there was, it had never done her any good. Losse was trouble: good-hearted, pretty, joyful, young, but definitely trouble, and the messes that had started this oddysey had not taught her anything. It was with that twinkle in her eye that she entered the yard and took a seat near the end of the tables to watch the patrons--and pick a mark.

[Farael]

Kind sir,’ she said, grinning impishly at him as she made a little curtsy. ‘Will you chance another stepped on toe or two?’

"What?" his thoughts were "Another dance? for the King and the White Tree she knows I can't say no but how will I manage to stay away from her toes at an even faster pace?" yet his smile contradicted his thoughts as he said "It would be a honour, my fair Teluyaviel."

It was a fast, fun song although as Farael remembered it the day after, he had the nagging feeling that some of the words were unknown to him. Specially the concept of "pistol" who the singer seemed to draw twice yet use only once. But this all had not happened yet and after successfully (although perhaps not very gracefully) avoiding stepping on Telu's toes, Farael held her hand in his and kissed her fingers. "I hope you forgive me, but this man is getting tired and it seems the band wants to take a little break as well. How about we go grab a mug of... water?"

[Nogrod]

After Naria left the table, Reddie concentrated on emptying his pint. He had almost enjoyed dancing with a female! And in the end, hadn’t even being totally baffled and shaky. But now the shakes were coming: he felt some cold sweat starting to form on his forehead, and his hands started to tremble, slowly at first. He also noticed, that emptying the pint had been relatively easy, and that every drop of the ale was indeed consumed. He would need some solitude, and need it soon.

He excused himself for Bredan, telling him, that he would need some fresh air after all the dancing, and that he would be back later on. Bredan nodded and Reddie took to the door. As he reached the door, he turned his head to see what Farael, Telu or Naria were up to, and crashed to something that was broad and hard as a stonewall. But this wall was moving, and had eyes that were looking straight to him.

It doesn’t necessarily take a beorning to know another, but when you are even half a one, it’s easier got get a hunch of another beorning’s mind. This one didn’t look angry for his tumbling him, Reddie thought to himself. The colossus grinned in a way that could even be interpreted as a smile. He might be wrong though... Trusting his intuition, Reddie smiled back, and said to this tower of a man in front of him: “Sorry my friend, I was just lost in my thoughts. Never quite saw, what hit me." Reddie produced a smile, but immediately gathered, that the pun had been a bad one, as it was. Reddie went on to safer approaches: "My name is Rían, Rían Sundry from Mirkwood. You might have known my father, the “old hermit Sundry” the people called him. I was indeed going out to have a pipeful, but if you’d care to share a pint with a fellow beorning, I would be happy to buy you one.”

Be in good relations with all the beornings that are bigger and stronger than you are. That was rule number one he had learned quite early on his life. Rule number two went: if you have even the faintest suspicion, that you have offended one of those, be quick to compensate. And after all, it had been a long time since he had met another beorning.

[Kath]

"I think I'll be quite fine, thank you. I would not want to burden such kind people as the two of you."

"Oh it's no trouble at all. We've all burdens of one kind or another and as the saying goes - a problem shared is a problem halved, or in this case cut into three! Please, won't you join us? You don't have to tell us of your troubles, but we wouldn't mind the company."

And without waiting for much of an answer, Astilwen took her hand and gently tugged, pleased when the woman came willingly. Returning to the bench with Ariane and this new woman in tow, she ran off to refill their glasses, and get a drink for their new companion.

Returning, she found Ariane and the newcomer in conversation, with the latter just telling her name.

". . . Tilionwen."

"Another pretty name! Is it Elvish?" Asked the ever inquistive hobbit, as she joined them again.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"It is a pretty name," Ariane agreed. "And I'm Ariane Calthye, and really hate to do this, but I can't stay right now." It wasn't that the newcomer unnerved her, but she wasn't really to a point where she could talk with two people. Her stomach hurt...

She grimaced for a moment, then stood up. "I hate to walk out on this conversation, but I do have to return to my room." Offering a slight bow, she took her now refilled glass, drained it quickly, and set it back down, waiting for the farewells before setting off through the crowd.

They came, and Ariane made an attempt to work herself back to her room and collapse on her bed until her stomach felt better. Must've been something related to peas in there. Argh.

[Lhunardawen]

A tear slid down Tilionwen's face as she allowed the hobbit to pull her away from where she was standing, and she quickly wiped it away before the two women could see it. It felt cleansing, inside and out, and she wondered if she could keep the rest of them in any longer. She decided to hold them back for the time being, not wanting to dampen her new companions' spirits with her tears.

The hobbit excused herself to get the three of them something to drink, and only then did she realize how thirsty she was. Her gladness finally manifested itself in a shy smile which she gave the hobbit as she sped off. Left alone with the other woman, she remained silent. She did not really know what to say; her overwhelming joy stole away all the words her mind came up with.

As if seeing through Tilionwen's thoughts, the woman spoke up. "Would you mind if I ask you your name?"

With that innocent question, her mind suddenly flashed through her past, and all emotions concerning it jumbled up her joy. Disoriented for a moment, she fumbled for the right words to say, settling with, "Uh . . . Tilionwen."

"Another pretty name! Is it Elvish?" the hobbit suddenly chimed in, arriving with three glasses. Tilionwen gladly accepted one of them and took a sip.

"It is a pretty name," the other woman replied. "And I'm Ariane Calthye, and really hate to do this, but I can't stay right now." She gave what seemed like a grimace, then continued. "I hate to walk out on this conversation, but I do have to return to my room." She bowed slightly and finished her drink, and caught by surprise, all Tilionwen was able to say was a silent "Farewell." And then Ariane left.

Once again Tilionwen felt a feeling of paranoia settle in. Perhaps she knew. Perhaps my name gave it away. Perhaps...

The dam broke, and the tears she managed to hold inside for the longest time finally flowed freely.

[nynnd1]

Bredan sat alone, although the atmosphere of the Green Dragon that night was such that Bredan doubted anyone could be alone, he drank the last sip of his drink and surveyed the room, there was a woman whose tears showed up against the back drop of all the smiling faces. Bredan planned to take a drink to her, after all that is what he had done to Farael and it had worked perfectly then. Bredan walked up to the table and poured two lemonades. He navigated through the party to the woman who he only noticed as he got closer, due to the height, was standing next to a Hobbit who was holding two cups. By the time Bredan had finished this thought he noticed he was standing next to the crying lady.

“I am Bredan of Gondor”, he said taking a low bow, realising when he reached the lowest part that he did not know what to say now, he rose slowly to buy time but words did not come, so it was that Bredan introduced himself and stood in front of the lady with a vacant look on his face.

[JennyHallu]

Losse was soon bored with watching, and her feet quickly recovered from the stress of her long day's march. Cheerfully she grabbed the arm of a hobbit she'd seen serving and politely asked for a pint of ale and a meat pastie, giving up a few of her dwindling stock of coin. After all, what matter? she thought. She'd spotted a possible mark and cheerfully walked towards and around the dance floor as though looking for a washroom.

On the way she bumped into a young woman being led off the floor by her partner, showing definite signs of tipsiness.

"Oh, pardon me! I'm so sorry," Losse said as she reached out a hand to steady the girl. With her other hand she deftly tucked her new purse out of sight, eyes atwinkle with what she hoped would be taken for friendliness.

[Thinlómien]

Something tumbled against Grimhorn. He looked down to it. The creature was a young man with red hair. It was babbling something. Probably an apology. Grimhorn waved his hand as to wipe the apology away. Then the creature managed to present itself: "My name is Rían, Rían Sundry from Mirkwood. You might have known my father, the 'old hermit Sundry' the people called him. I was indeed going out to have a pipeful, but if you’d care to share a pint with a fellow beorning, I would be happy to buy you one.”

"I have never anything against a pint, or good company", he said and looked at the young man critically. Then he nodded to add weight to his words. A good beorning lad, that is. But it is a bit small, it has to have some lesser blood in it, he thought. Then he said: "My name is Grimhorn, son of Grimgor and I'm from Anduin Vales. Nice to meet you, lad." He had never liked idle pleasantries but sometimes they were needed. Then he grunted and added: "Now, let's go and have the beer. I've walked a long way today and I want to give some rest to my feet. And you can have your smoke while we sit down and drink."