The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[piosenniel]

TIME IN THE INN . . .

It is now mid-morning.

The day is sunny, off and on. Though the breeze is a bit brisk. And far to the west, dark clouds are moving toward Bywater and Hobbiton. Looking toward the Tower Hills, you can see the grey curtain of rain advancing over the fields toward the Inn.

The sky is grayish, too; the sun has gone into hiding, and only peeks out now and then when the wind blows a hole in the clouds.

The front yard of the Inn has been cleared of all the tables and benches brought out for the party yesterday. The little lanterns that were in the trees are all put away, and the streamers and festoons about the yard and front verandah have all been tidied away. The flower gardens, inadvertently trampled by party goers, have more or less been set to rights. And what’s left to be done in the flower beds can wait until tomorrow. It’s growing chill and the wind is picking up.

The Green Dragon’s Common Room is bustling with patrons. It’s nice and cozy inside, the lanterns all cheerily lit and the fireplace blazing with a welcoming fire . . .

[piosenniel]

~*~ Notice of New RPG Opening ~*~

Thalionyulma (Thali, for short) invites you to take a look at the Mirkwood Endgame Discussion Thread – HERE.

Three male Elven characters are needed: two from Mirkwood and one from Lorien.

Should be a fun game! See you there!

~*~ Pio, Game Moderator

[peral]

Sharya returned to the inn somewhat ruffled. What a fool she had been to think that she would have been able to find clothes or weapons in a town of halflings! Of course they wouldn't have anything her size. She only wished that she had realised this before setting out and saved herself all that walking in the wind. And now the sun was gone as well, another bad omen she thought. Of course, she could have bought material and made herself new clothes - for, being an assistant seamstress before had much experience in these things - but she didn't want to, she felt sluggish and disinclined to do work today. She sighed looking down at her travel-stained dress, this would just have to do until she managed to find some clothes or find the strength of mind to sit down and make herself some new ones. The only thing she had managed to find that was of any use was a skinning knife that now hung from her girdle. Now, if only she could find some way to get a bow and arrows she would be all set to live out in the wild a little while.

Re-entering the common room, she was met with a wave of warmth and sound. The room was now filled with patrons drinking, eating and all of them talking. She smiled to herself as she sat down and ordered an ale from the server who went by the name of Ruby. When it came, she immediately took a long draught from it before taking out the skinning knife and inspecting it.

[Sett]

It had been many the hours since they left Bree. They were fatigued and hungry. They were pulling a wagon, which was loaded with nets and weapons. Galither was with three other gondorians. They were all tall and lean except for Falmir who was rather short for a human. Galither was the captain of these men. They were on their way to the icebay of forochel to investigate the ruins of a gondorian ship that had been suspected to sink near there. The weather was causing great strain on them so they decided to stop in a halfling village renown for populating this area they understood as ‘The Shire’.

They noticed a sign pointing to the green dragon inn so they pulled the wagon into the roadside and covered it up with cloth. Falmir sniggered “what are we doing in a halfling inn, we wont fit in”. They all laughed and said, “yea we wont but you might”. Falmir gave them a cold look.

Upon entering the inn they scanned the room briefly noticing that there were others along the halfling. They felt welcomed and removed their coats. Galither looked at the others for a signal for him to see their orders are taken care of. He knew what the rest wanted and proceeded to the bar. He requested four ales. He paid the bartender and walked to the table near the back of the room. It seemed very cosy than his usual stay. He sighed and glanced around the room in more detail. Everyone seemed to be having fun, laughing at jokes and games seemed to lighten up the atmosphere of the dark clouds outside. They felt out of place for a while taking large gulps of their ale. Until falmir started talking about their next plan of action. The other three were not paying him much attention, they were all reminiscing of their past adventure up to this point.

[piosenniel]

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

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling looked at the Halfling lass and tried to decide how to feel. He was not one for children, never having raised one of his own nor even been left in charge of one for any length of time. He felt that he should be…older…somehow, toward her. He remembered his own father and how distant he had seemed: a lordly figure, but not in the manner of the King Elessar, not someone to be loved and obeyed, but a figure of fear. Snaveling had been feared in the past and he did not relish eliciting that response again. Not knowing how to act toward the lass, then, he elected not to act in any particular way at all. So when he responded to her question it was not as an adult to a child, but as one person to another.

“Adventures?” he echoed thoughtfully, “I am afraid that I haven’t had any of those. At least, not what people usually mean when they speak of adventures. I’ve never fought a battle or defeated a monster; I’ve never gone off on a wizard’s quest, and if I’d been asked to, I daresay I would have refused the wizard outright! I’ve had more than my fair share of hard and lonely roads, and I’ve been many places that other people shun. I’ve been beset by storms and orcs and wolves, but each time I escaped by keeping my head low and running for the shadows. I suspect, lass, that when you ask me for adventures what you are really asking is, ‘Are you a hero?’. Well, I’m not.”

Marigold’s face fell, clearly disappointed with the answer. “But you’re a Ranger!” she almost wailed. “Everyone knows that the Rangers are all heroes!”

“Ah, now I begin to see your confusion,” the Man replied. “I am kin to the Rangers but I am not a Ranger myself. I am of the race of Black Numenoreans.”

“The who?” she asked, her face innocently curious.

“The Black Numenoreans are the last of those Men from the West who came to these shores in conquest and with a desire for rule. We are considered by many to be evil and cruel, but I must say that I do not share that opinion. My people are like any other I have met: we are neither demons nor divine. But I have said enough of myself, and I fear that it has been little to your liking, lass. What of you? I had assumed that Mr Headstrong was your father or grandfather, but I see now that I misunderstood your relation. Where are your parents?”

[Encaitare]

The sun had gone in, and the pleasant morning was rapidly growing chilly. Dark clouds were rolling in from the west. Caity wished that she had thought to bring her shawl out with her. Some of the hobbits around her were complaining about how cool it had gotten, and only mid-morning, too. She was wondering if she ought to ask Halfred if they shouldn't go inside when he said just that.

"Looks like rain," he said, turning his face at the sky as if it was at fault. "We ought to go in before we all get drenched. Besides, I guess the rain'll be good for the flowers." He eyed the tools for a moment, then called, "You lads! Bring the tools into the shed, if you please. Can't have 'em gettin' rusty. Now! In we go, and let's hope there's plenty of tea still hot."

[Nurumaiel]

"They're somewhere far away," Marigold replied. "I like to imagine that they're in a big field full of flowers, especially lilacs, and little rivers running everywhere, and apple trees... apple trees that are in blossom, but also have the apples on them. Wouldn't it be nice if apple trees were like that?" She sighed, and looked out the window at the approaching storm clouds. "There's rain there, too," she said, "but it's always the nice kind of rain. It never stops you from doing what you want to do. It comes only when you want it to come. And of course there's a house there, with a warm fire to sit by while the wind is howling outside."

Marigold fell silent for a little while, contemplating with a little sorrow, some pleasure, and a good degree of dreaminess this far away place. When she spoke again to Snaveling, her face had turned sour. "Old Mrs. Hilldweller who lives across the road from my old home says that my mother and father are in the graveyard. I suppose that's where they're buried, but I know they can't be there. I don't know how I know, but it doesn't seem possible. My mamma would be terribly unhappy underground and my papa would be so unhappy that she was unhappy that he would just break out of the ground to let her free, whether he was dead or not."

She smiled in an amused fashion at this thought, and then her expression changed to one of deep earnestness. "You may be wondering if I understand what I'm talking about," she said. "Maybe it doesn't sound like it, but I do know what I'm talking about. I do know my parents are dead. And I cried a long while when it happened. But I find it easier to be happy even when they're gone. And it makes me happier to think that they're in some beautiful place, and not merely buried underneath the ground. But... I do still miss them sometimes." Little Marigold sighed. Perhaps she missed them sometimes, she reflected, but it was altogether certain that she really and truly did miss them all the time.

[Sett]

The four of them sat down in awe in the beauty of this inn. It was nothing like the gloom of the inn at Bree. It was tranquil warm and welcoming. They felt as though they were at peace. Many of the room were laughing merrily which led to a much easier conversation between the four. Galither was running low on ale so he went up to the bar for more. Along the way he heard the others starting to talk again without him. He was curious as to what they were discussing but pursued his ale. Once reaching the bar he checked out the menu, as this point they were rather hungry. He loved the look of a light herbed stew and proceeded with the order.

A young looking halfling walked over with a bowl full of stew. Galither thanked her and delved into his meal. The others snarled at him for not ordering them a meal. They always argued this lot. They’re not particularly loyal to Gondor so they show Galither no respect in terms of rank. Falmir decided to order a bigger meal than Galither and bought cooked fish for the other two as well. The girl they now knew as Ruby brought their meal to them. The three did not show any appreciation and tucked into their food quickly. They believed the half lings to be inferior to them. Even though they loved the half lings way of life and beautiful landscapes.

After they had finished their meal they booked some rooms for that night. Galither offered to pay for the rooms and the moved their belongings up to their room. After this they could hear the merry atmosphere downstairs and decided to go back to their table.

They had their ales. They had a place to stay. Now they were ready for some relaxation. There seemed to be a weird aura around them. Galither felt although the others knew something he didn’t. They all kept calm and relaxed outside composers but Galither could tell some hidden topic was yet to be introduced to the conversation. They spent a few hours again sharing their adventure with each other but after the word “troll” was mentioned it caught the interest of the half lings sitting on the table next to them.

[littlemanpoet]

Something she had said had unsettled Mithalwen, though the Elf woman tried to hide it behind her cup of tea. Mithalwen was one who closed herself from others, and must have reason to. It was not Uien's place to probe where her thought was not invited. Her generosity was not to be doubted, though; it was not lost on Uien how she had wordlessly come to the aid of the Gondorian man.

"Thank you for your help," Uien said kindly. "I would find the closeness of the sea troublesome, I think."

"You are welcome.

"It would be good to look upon it once, I think," said Falowik.

"I am in no hurry," Uien said. She looked to Falowik, who seemed to take her glance as a cue; he rose.

"Uien, 'tis time we had a look at our horse's keeping."

Uien nodded and rose. "Thank you again for your kindness, Mithalwen. Namarië."

"Namarië," Mithalwen replied.

Uien and Falowik walked through the front door, hand in hand.

[Envinyatar]

Gil, Tomlin, and the trunk . . .

‘Please, allow me the pleasure, wife.’ Derufin took Zimzi’s shawl from the hook by the door and placed it securely about her shoulders. He grinned at her as he walked to the door and held it open. A slight bow and a wink ushered her out onto the little porch ahead of him.

The morning had gone all grey and cold, and Derufin was glad he’d pulled on a thick undershirt beneath his tunic as he followed Zimzi down the steps. She stopped to pick him a yellow primrose, and threaded it into one of the top buttonholes on his vest. ‘This garden was a wonderful present,’ she said, tucking her arm through his as they made for the Inn. ‘If we see Jinniver, let’s make sure to invite her over. I’d like to walk through it with her and have her tell me what she’s done and when the various plantings will blossom.’

It was only a short walk from the groundskeeper’s cottage to the Inn proper. The couple passed by the stable, where Meriadoc was just making fast the shutters and closing the great doors in preparation for the rain that was sure to come. The Hobbit leaned out one of the upper windows and waved wildly at the two. Derufin fished in his pocket and pulled out his pouch of pipe tobacco, holding it up so Meri could see it, With his other hand, he mimed a drinking gesture and pointed toward the Inn. Meri nodded, then waved them on, indicating he would be in soon.

They were just about to enter the door to the kitchen, when the two doors that covered the outside opening to the cellar flew open and Gil appeared, He was bent over, backing up the stairs from the cellar, and as they came nearer they could see he had a rather large trunk he was pulling up the stairs. On the other end was Tomlin, who was pushing. The bottom of the trunk scraped and bumped over the edges of the wooden stairs. Derufin leant a hand to pull it up all the quicker, and soon it stood on the dirt just outside the cellar entrance.

‘What’s this?’ asked Zimzi, circling about the chest, as the three men shut the doors to the cellar and secured them. ‘It’s lovely, covered in dark leather, and with the brass bands and studs for decoration. Where are you going with it?’

[Mithalwen]

Mithalwen now added guilt to the other emotions churning within. Uien had not deserved her coldness it was not her fault. She sighed, drained the last of her tea and sought the stables where she hoped to find her and say farewell properly.

To her relief she found them. "Uien, Falowik ... forgive my rudeness.. if you ever decide to look upon the sea, visit me at the havens - I shall be there again ere long and my friends will welcome you if am not yet returned" ... To Uien's mind she sent a end a message that she could not bear to utter aloud even in her own tongue: "I too loved a mortal man once ... long ago .... I had not your courage... do not think ill of me". Mithalwen knew she had been understood by the glimmer of surprise and understanding in the other's face. Speaking openly again Mithalwen said " I hope we will meet again, until then may the valar protect you under the One"

[littlemanpoet]

"I hope we will meet again, until then may the Valar protect you under the One."

Mithalwen's eyes as well as mind had opened to Uien, whose eyes moistened. "My thanks, Mithalwen. It was generous of you to come to us."

She embraced the Elf woman, who started at first, then relaxed.

No, I cannot think ill of you, mellonemel*. How could I? Each of us must make our own choices as best we can. Maybe the dooms we have brought upon ourselves by our choices will be fair and blessed. Let us hope so.

Uien kissed Mithalwen on the lips in Elvish regard, and released her, who stood looking stricken. Perhaps I have been too warm now?

"Falowik and I were just speaking of this, and we first will go back to Lake Evendim to see how the new settlements fare there. But afterward, we will come to Lindon, and I will look for you there. Namarië, mellonemel."

Mithalwen's stricken face melted into a smile. "I shall look for you... mellonemel."

They embraced once again and parted. Uien watched Mithalwen go, her smile undimmed long after the Elf woman had departed.

"Something happened that I missed," Falowik said.

"Aye, Lauréatan. Sorrow she bears did not permit her to speak freely. I would prove true to her faith in me. Please ask me not of it."

"The affairs of Elves are far above me," Falowik said, not without a little awe in his voice.

Uien laughed. "So have you said more times than I can count!" She took his hand. "Come, let us see to Kirsúl."

*mellonemel .... "heart-friend"

[Sett]

Moment’s later two hobbit men joined the four as Galither and Falmir moved along to let them into the opening on the table. Once sat down the hobbits introduced themselves as Kristin Hopper and Hamfast Gladbury. They were quick to inquire about the trolls.

Kristin said “so sirs where is it you met these trolls. I hope you didn’t see them near ere we are peaceful people here, don’t want no stinking trolls in these parts”

Galither replied “calm down mister we don’t be seeing no trolls around here. No we ran into the back at the misty mountains far from here”

Galither then revealed to the hobbits a tale of misadventure. They had come across these trolls as the crossed the mountain. The wagon was feeling heavy and this caused great fatigue in the men. So they stopped off at a low cave on the west side of the mountain. They slept for many the hour until they heard grunt not that of a human. Galither reached for his sword in a gentle yet swift manner, that’s until he realised what was ahead of him two large trolls rummaging through their wagon. Falmir being the hotheaded and irresponsible member of the party threw a knife at the troll causing it to yell with a scream no man should hear. It felt like the cave was rumbling as this great roar crashed like a wave on the granite. The trolls began to chase Falmir while the other three battled with this trolls. It had much agility and they found themselves darting all over the place until they brought it to its knees.

They compiled the contents of the wagon, which had been spread across the cave floor while the heard a screech running down the cave like chalk on a board. Falmir outran the troll due to his height. They pulled themselves together and caught a breath but hastily proceeded to the cave exit and on their way to the icebay.

The two hobbits sat with a bemused look and were rather impressed with the story but were more relieved to here it had not been set in the local area. Kristin offered to buy them all ale, which they kindly accepted.
They shared more accounts of their journey up to coming to the inn where the hobbits left them to go back to work. After feeling as though they had a well spent morning. All but Galither was happy after the story the others did not seem to take the conversation with hobbit kind very comfortably so they spent the rest of the morning silently contemplating the afternoon.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Miz Bella responded with a mirthful shake of her head, "Ginger, you’re asking for more than you know. If I start on this, I’ll never stop, since there’s so much to tell. But let me try. We can’t have you daydreaming all day instead of doing your work. The problem is I can’t show you a proper map. Most maps leave out the New Lands, although Bilbo did mention them in his book of ancient lore. But I may have one thing that will help.”

Miz Bella scurried over to her stack of books and pulled out a bulky volume, old and well thumbed, that was overflowing with maps and charts. She skimmed through the pages until she reached the last chart in the book. “Here, take a look.” Miz Bella pointed to a plate that showed the northwest of Arda, a wide stretch of land from Gondor over to Arnor and continuing on to Forelindon. Beyond this there was only an endless expanse of sea with the words “The Great Rift” labeled across the page to show where Arda had been bent and broken. In the upper quadrant of the map on the far left of the page, there were lines and shapes outlined by a different hand. These were marked the 'New Lands'.

“My father drew this,” Miz Bella explained. “The original map shows you what the world looked like after the drowning of Numenor. At least people thought it looked like this. But there were lands further west they knew nothing about. My father and a few others sailed to those lands by veering to the northwest and hopping from island to island. I was born in the New Lands and lived there many years. I have tales aplenty about the land and the voyage, some happy and others sad, but that must wait till another day.”

“In any case,” she added, “it is a beautiful place, though different than your Shire. Our family lived on an isle with rugged slopes and deep fiords, all surrounded by the sea. There were all type of birds and animals: colonies of puffins and herds of caribou, even great whales who sang songs. A hardy and fair folk dwelled near us on the shores. They lived by hunting and fishing and gathering berries and other things from the land.

“I hope that will satisfy your curiosity for now.” Miz Bella retrieved her book and quickly added before Ginger left, “If you should see Cook, tell her I would like to speak with her when she is less busy. I need to thank her and also to ask her something. There’s no rush, however. And if she does not make it up to me, I hope to be well enough to visit the kitchen late in the day.” With that Ginger scurried down the hall, and Miz Bella went back to rest.

[samsmyhero]

Denegal sat in the kitchen, his left foot soaking in a bucket of steaming hot water. This had been given him by Cook, otherwise known as Miz Bunce, after he had finished what work there was to do out in the yard. Fixing him with a stern glare, she had pointed the ladle in her hand at him and said, "Into the water with that foot, now! We can't have you gimpin' about here all week, can we? Looks as if it might be gettin' infected already. Men!" She shook her head with an air of weary grievance. Denegal wasn't quite sure if this last remark was directed at his race or his gender - the latter he suspected. But he saw the wrinkles of kindness that creased the corners of the little woman's eyes and mouth. Obediently, he had plunged the offending extremity into the bucket and immediately pulled it out again with a yelp of pain. The water was scalding hot! Before he could protest further, Cook had shot him another baleful glance. Gritting his teeth, he returned his foot to the water, this time much more slowly. Still, the water soon turned his skin to the color of a boiled lobster. Well, at least it was a certainty that his wounds would be clean, if not in fact cauterized by the heat!

When Denegal had first come down from the attic, the breeze had been picking up and he could smell the coming rain. Laying the footwear he had found aside by the door, he had hurried outside, hobbling about as best he could to get the tables and benches under shelter before they got wet. He didn't want his new employers to think he was a slacker. The little hobbits working along side him surprised him with both their strength and their friendliness. They laughed and chatted with each other and with him as they worked to get things set to rights. The morning was turning chilly and the sun was sulking behind the clouds. Denegal was glad to find that his height was in fact of some advantage, in that he could easily reach down the lanterns that had been strung about in the lower limbs of the trees in the yard.

Denegal had found himself somewhat tongue tied amongst his new acquaintances. Although normally not a shy person, he found their appearance somewhat disconncerting. It was like expecting to talk to a child, but finding instead the mind and speech of an adult. The hobbits, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease with him. They must get more than a few men travelling through these parts, Denegal surmised. This was borne out by what he had seen in the common room earlier. Even as they finished their cleaning up, Denegal noted several more men, Gondorians too by the sound of them, entering the inn yard with a cart and proceeding on into the inn. They seemed a somewhat querrulous lot and he wondered what had brought them to the Shire.

As Denegal now sat in the snug kitchen, he heard the shutters on the window ratttle gently every now and then. He wondered if a storm was coming their way. The clouds he had seen earlier in the west had looked rather threatening.

Ruby entered the kitchen, a little breathless. "Fillin' up out there, it is. Seems there's more than a few folk happy to get in out of that breeze." Seeing Denegal soaking his foot, she smiled."Now then, my friend, I see cook's set you up right. Did you have any luck upstairs?" She nodded her head in the direction of the attic.

"Well . . . um, yes, so to speak. That is to say . . . " Denegal's half murmured reply trailed off, as he craned his neck to look back over his shoulder towards the door. "Um, yes."

"What's that? Is that them over there?" Ruby had already filled the tray in her hands with a pot of tea and a big bowl of stew. Nevertheless, she brushed past Denegal and went to see his selection. Gazing down at the floor she laughed out loud. "What! Them? You can't be serious! You actually mean to wear these things?" She kept on laughing.

"Well, they were absolutely the only thing I could find up there that would fit!" Denegal said, a little defensively. "My foot is somewhat bigger than a hobbit's! Believe me, if I had found a pair of boots, even a pair of shoes that would fit, I would not have bothered to bring those down!" His face had turned slightly red, altthough nowhere near the lovely scarlet shade of his foot.

Ruby had set her tray down and bent over to pick up the articles in question. She held them in her hands, turning them this way and that to admire the full effect. The pair of red leather slippers were old and quite worn. But you could see that once they must have been quite outrageously bright, dyed a deep vermillion, and with tiny bits of colored glass cleverly sewn around the opening. The toes curled up in a most exotic manner and extended a good three inches past the end of the foot. One slipper was missing its heel, and the leather was cracked and stiff. Many of the bits of glass had fallen off, lending even more to the general air of dilapidation. Denegal groaned and looked away as Ruby held them out to Cook for inspection.

"I remember these! Don't you, Miz Bunce? Remember those fellows who came with that menagerie and all those tents - some sort of performers they were, with trained animals and all? We were so wishing they would put on a performance for us here at the inn. But they said they were 'previously engaged'. Humph! On the run, more like, if you ask me. They were a seedy looking lot. Only stayed the one night. And we found these, left behind, the next morning. Oh, Denegal." Here she broke into a giggling fit. "Certainly, you can't mean to wear them?"

Cook stepped closer to view the slippers. "Well, they may be somewhat fancy for working in. But if they fit, I guess it won't matter. Better than going around in just one boot."

"Try them on!" Ruby urged. "Perhaps they won't look that bad."

Denegal pulled his now water-wrinkled foot from the bucket and dried it on the towel Cook handed him. Sheepishly, he took the slippers from Ruby and set them on the floor in front of him. Inwardly, he cursed himself for having brought the odious things downstairs in the first place. What could he have been thinking? Far better to go barefoot than to wear such outlandish gear!

"Well, go on then. Put them on. " The cook eyed him with that same authoritative look - one that said "or else!".

Denegal sighed and pushed his feet into the slippers. What made matters even worse was that the dashed things fit like a glove, as if they had been made for him. And they were comfortable! But looking down at his feet, now shod in cracked red leather circus slippers, he thought, "Wouldn't 'Zilla just love to see me now?"

[Arry]

Gil blushed, looking up at Zimzi as she circled the trunk, inspecting it. It was hard for him to take his eyes from her, so fair he thought her. She looked as pretty in her everday dress and plain shawl as she did yesterday in her fancy dress for the handfasting. ‘Lucky man!’ he thought glancing at Derufin. ‘Hope luck looks my way when I’m ready to tie the knot.’

He could feel Tomlin looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to answer her questions. Instead, he opened the latch and opened the lid. One of the marionettes was on top, and he picked it up and dangled it down. With a few movements of the strings, he made the little feet dance a bit in front of Zimzi, then had the puppet bow gallantly to the delighted woman.

‘It belonged to Miz Bunce’s husband and his brother.’ ‘And Cook sewed the clothes herself,’ Tomlin added as Zimzi fingered one of the lacy frocks.

Gil laid the puppet carefully back in the chest and closed the top securely. ‘Cook’s told us we can use one of the back rooms to practice with the puppets. Said they should be put to use.’ He puffed up a bit, patting the top of the trunk. ‘Going to put on a play, we are. Me and the other lads.’

[peral]

Sharya gazed across the knife, it was small yet she supposed that it would serve its purpose well enough. How stupid had she been? What an imbecile! With a sudden wave of rage she slammed the knife into the table and it stood quivering, the blade firmly embedded in the wood. Most of the patrons seated near her had started at the sound and were now watching her suspiciously. What did they think she was going to do? Murder them all in their sleep? She now saw that the fear in their eyes was from being so unused to the violence of the outside world, that when even a sniff of it entered into their peaceful village, it was regarded as an evil demon that must be driven out immediately. She didn't care, they could throw her out of the village, it would be like every other time - roaming until she found a village or a town that would accept her - for awhile.

She found herself burying her head in her arms and resting them on the table. She didn't want to be here, she didn't want to be alive at all. Even the friendship she had formed just a few hours ago seemed to be a curse. Solitude was her only friend. That was the only way she could live and she would live it that way. There were people out for her life and she didn't want to drag anyone - let alone Tulip - into the fray. They were her troubles and hers alone. She wouldn't be so weak as to ask for help. Nay, her father would not want it. She would face the enemy and face it on her own. She would either defeat it or be killed in the process.

[samsmyhero]

Ruby hefted her tray back into her arms and with a final barely suppressed smirk, she made her way back to the common room. Denegal sighed heavily and stood up. "Well, I'd best get to that wood before this rain starts. " Cook directed him to where the fallen tree was to be found. The quickest route was through the common room, so Denegal passed through the door and strode purposefully across the room. As he did so, conversations at the varoius tables faltered and then came to a complete stop. By the time he had come abreast of a table at which sat four men, possibly Gondorian by the look of them, Denegal realized that the room had fallen silent. He stopped, feeling the combined stare of many eyes directed towards his feet. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck and suffusing his face.

Ruby, sensing his embarassment, hurried over to him and gave him a quick pay on the arm. She whispered ,"It's alright. We'll find you a pair of boots somewhere. Just on now. Don't pay any mind to them."

Denegal glanced around, catching the eye of one of the men near him. "Do you like my shoes?" he asked lightly, trying to appear totally at ease.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

“I used to imagine a place much like the one your parents are in,” Snaveling replied. “When I was a vagabond rogue wandering the land, my one desire was to find a place where I could build a home, and the means with which to build it. I always imagined it as a hunting lodge. It would have five rooms and a large porch out back, where I could sit of an evening and smoke my pipe. It would be in an out-of-the-way valley where the hunting and fishing were good, and far from the meddling interference of other folk. It was a lovely dream, but one that I outgrew. I have found that there are things in this world that are higher and better than that empty dream of ease, pleasant as it may be. But still I find that I cling to it for comfort, for it sustained me and gave me hope in blacker days, and on evil roads. And who is to say that dreams are false? I have known Elves, and they seem to me a folk who live in dreams more than they do in the waking world, and it is said among Men that when our time comes we too travel to a land where waking and sleep are but one and the same, and where the life we live is as the waking dream of the Elder race. So perhaps my hunting lodge awaits me yet in some secluded valley beyond the shores of Middle-earth. And perhaps your parents have their home upon the hills overlooking it, and long after our ways have parted we shall see one another again in that place, and laughing we will reminiscence about our conversation of long ago at the Green Dragon Inn!”

The lass smiled at him with gratitude, for he seemed clearly to understand what she had meant about the memory of her parents. Snaveling, softened by the memory of his hunting lodge, so long from his memory, smiled back. “But let us talk of this no more, for I have no appetite for melancholy. Tell me instead about your life now. I am an ill judge of ages among the Halflings for, I must confess, your size makes you all appear to me as children, but for the very aged and the very young. You seem yourself to be but a lass of no more than eight or ten, as such things are measured among my folk. Who cares for you now, and where do you live?”

[Nurumaiel]

"You're right; I am ten... and it was old Mrs. Hilldweller who was watching out for me," said Marigold, feeling much more at her ease by Snaveling's kind sympathy with her little day-dream. Perhaps it was true. Mrs. Hilldweller had only laughed, but Snaveling lent it some hope. But whether it was true or not, it didn't matter. Marigold would live in a grassy meadow with her family, and she would never, never lie under the ground forever after she was dead. It would be so cold and dark and lonely there. You would never see the sunlight and the flowers and the little birds flitting from tree to tree. Mrs. Hilldweller said that the dead people were at rest now, but they couldn't be if they were just under the ground. Wouldn't they be miserable and unhappy living under the ground all the time, just in a little hole with dirt surrounding them? Marigold couldn't be happy living in a hole (and it never occurred to her that she did, in fact, and most hobbits did).

"She took care of me for a few months after my parents died, but then she said she couldn't take care of me any longer," Marigold went on. "I was too much trouble and she couldn't worry about me when she had her own children to take care of, she said. She had fifteen children, you know, though I think it might actually be sixteen. That's quite a lot of children." Marigold fell silent for a brief time to contemplate this wonder. As an only child she thought even three children in a family quite a lot, and sixteen was quite beyond the limits of her mind. She would have never believed it if she hadn't seen it for herself.

"I didn't care that she didn't want me anymore, because I didn't want to stay with her. She wasn't a very... sympathetic sort of person. She decided to send me to her cousin who lived in the West Farthing, but when she sent me off she forgot to tell me where her cousin lived. Mrs. Hilldweller was always very absent-minded. She didn't give me any change of clothes or any food or any money, either, and she sent me off to walk to the West Farthing in that condition. Wasn't that very absent-minded?

"I didn't go back to ask her for directions, or for food, or money, or a cart to take me there, because I wanted to stay here in Bywater. To go anywhere else would be too far from my little home, which I love very dearly. I went here because I knew the people were kind. Now Mr. Headstrong is taking care of me, and after he leaves I'll just stay here, and I'm sure Miss Buttercup will watch after me."

[Sett]

Falmir was the first to get a glimpse of red shoes worn by a fellow Gondorian. He had crimson cheeks at this point. Galither could tell the embarrassment in the guys face. Falmir had not sympathy for the man and burst out with laughter followed by the other two. Galither let out a subtle snigger but not as high as the immense laughter produced from Falmir.

Falmir shouted, “Well well if it isn’t the bell of the ball”

The other two continued to laugh. At this point the guy was stood there peering around to see if people were still looking at him. Many of the guests in the common room were now looking away but laughs were still being heard.

The man said towards Galither “Do you like my shoes?”

Galither looked away at first as a sign for the man to get lost but he just stood there like a puppy waiting for orders. Galither was started to get embarrassed himself just by looking at the bright red shoes, so he signalled to the person to sit down.

Galither replied silently “Yea why don’t you save me one of those”

The man sat at the edge of the table. He was very uncomfortable at this point. Galither got the impression that he was even more humiliated because they were of his kind. Galither ordered ale for the man. Ruby came up with the ale very quickly and looked at the man with a worried look. I don’t think ruby liked the way falmir acted and felt sorry for the man.

Galither “tell me friend, what is your name”

The man replied “Denegal”

Falmir was even more furious with Galither. He did not like talking to the hobbits and now he didn’t want the company of a fellow Gondorian, it made him uncomfortable. He got up and went to his room without word.
The other two Gondorians were going to leave as well when Galither ordered them more drinks.

“Tell me friend why have you come out here in them? It worries me that any man would want to be seen in them”

[samsmyhero]

Denegal sat with his new acquaintances, somewhat ill at ease. The one who had left had definitely been put out by the other's sugestion that he join the little group. Again, Denegal wondered what had brought these men here to the Shire.

“Tell me friend why have you come out here in them? It worries me that any man would want to be seen in them”

The Gondorian's statement was blunt and to the point, no doubt about that. Well, Denegal could see that the slippers were a little hard to understand. Denegal rubbed the stubble on his chin. He could really use a shave, he thought to himself. Hmmmmm . . . where to begin?

"Well, you see, um . . . by the way, what is your name, sir?" He wasn't sure if the 'sir' was entirely justified. But he had found it never hurt to be polite, until one had good reason not to be.

"Galither is what they call me." the Gondorian replied.

"Well, Galither, it's like this. About eight months ago, my fiancee, or, at least, I thought she was my fiancee, but she wasn't really, married a very wealthy merchant of Minas Tirith." Dengal paused for a moment as the image of 'Zilla's face rose up unbidden before his eyes. A dreamy look suffused his face.

Galither seemed perplexed and after a long moment of silence, he asked, tentatively, "So . . . that's why you're wearing those fancy things - because your girl dumped you?" The other two remaining at the table could not suppress their sniggers of derision, although Galither scowled at them.

"No, no!" Denegal hastened to reply. "It's not like THAT! I mean, well, that was the start of it all, of everything . . .you see?"

Galither was beginning to look as if he seriously regretted having asked Denegal to sit down. Denegal could tell he was making a complete hash of the story. It was just so hard to tell it in a way that made any sense.

He turned to look at Galither and asked "Have you ever been in love?"

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger was just making her way up to her room above the kitchen, when the sound of a familiar voice made her pause. ‘Wait up!’ she heard Buttercup call. ‘What’s that you’ve got?’ Buttercup drew near and reached out her hand, as if to take one of the books, but Ginger just held the two tomes all the tighter.

‘I promised Miz Bella I would keep them nice and neat for her. She’s leant them to me to take a look at.’ Ginger opened one of the books, the one with the pictures and the riddles, and showed it to Buttercup.

Picking up her apron, Buttercup wiped her hands thoroughly on it, and sidling in next to Ginger, held part of the book in her hand. Ginger turned the pages slowly as they looked at the neatly drawn, and often very funny, pictures. ‘Can you read what it says, Buttercup?’ the younger Hobbit asked.

Buttercup looked oddly at her friend. ‘Well, yes. I had Miz Callie Proudfoot for a teacher. Very strict on learning your letters and reading and writing proper.’ Ginger looked at her blankly. ‘She was that old teacher that retired years and years ago, I was just barely a tweenager when she taught her last classes.’ A look of comprehension came across Buttercup’s face. ‘She was the last teacher we had here in Bywater! You never got to do any learning with her, did you?’

Ginger’s cheeks pinked and she hung her head as she shook it. ‘Well, that’s not your fault, is it? And you all were busy enough on the farm that such things sort of got pushed to the side, I’ll bet.’ Buttercup patted her friend’s arm and closed up the riddle book. ‘You just bring that round to my room after supper, I can help you with it. Then you can show Miz Bella how good you’re doing.’

‘Thank you!’ said Ginger, smiling at Buttercup. Her eyes widened as she remembered something Miz Bella had told her. ‘Remember you asked me to ask her where she was from?’ Buttercup nodded her head. ‘She said she came from someplace called The New Lands. Showed me a map, too. It’s sort of like the one up in the Common Room – showed where the King lives – Gondor, right? And the Shire and all the way to the big sea on the left side where the wavy lines go right to the edge.’ Buttercup nodded again, wondering where Ginger would say the woman had come from. ‘Miz Bella’s map went further on the left . . . it wasn’t just the sea, there were some lands up in that top corner . . . The New Lands. And she sounded pretty familiar with them and not like she was just making them up.’

‘The New Lands?’ Buttercup’s brow furrowed as she tried to recollect anything she’d ever heard about them. ‘Well, now isn’t that just a puzzlement!’ She linked her arm through Ginger’s as they walked toward the younger girl’s room. ‘We’re just going to have to find out about those, aren’t we? They sound very, very interesting . . .’

A great booming voice called up the stairs, startling the two young women. ‘Have mercy! It’s Cook,’ said Buttercup. ‘I completely forgot she sent me up here to find you. It’s time to be getting the noon meal started.’ Ginger ran to her room and stacked the books on her nightstand. Then the two friends raced down the stairs to see what Cook had in mind for them to do.

[littlemanpoet]

"Kirsúl is looking well," Falowik said, watching as Uien groomed the bay stallion.

"Aye," she answered. "The ostler here does well."

"Hand me the purse and I will pay for his services and our meals."

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

Falowik entered through the front door, crossing the Common room with every intention of settling up. On his way he overheard a stranger's odd query: "Have you ever been in love?" Falowik stopped.

The man of whom the question was asked rubbed his chin and look mightily uncomfortable in front of his cronies, who looked more and more ready with each passing second to rib him mercilessly. On a whim that he knew to be completely out of character for himself, Falowik announced,

"I have."

The heads of the others turned to him inquiringly. The one who had been sitting and facing the others asked, "Were you answering my question, sir?"

"Aye, that I was." Falowik walked over to the group. "You asked if any of these gentlemen had been in love. I happened by and heard your question, and thought I'd answer it. I have, and am. My love grooms our horse in the stable. My name is Falowik Stonewort."

Quickly he learned the names of two of the others with whom he spoke: Denegal and Galither; Falowik forgot the names of the two others as soon as he had heard them; he thought of asking again but decided to listen and see if he would pick them up again. He greeted each of them.

"I am curious," he said. "What drew the question forth?"

[Fairleaf]

The weather had made a marked change since yesterday. Warmth and light had graced the Inn for a day of celebration, and now the darker elements crowded in, eager to restore the balance in some way. ‘No shadow without light somewhere,’ her mother had taught her. To which her granny would sometimes mutter, as if in invocation

Leaf and petal
Stem and root
From the killing darkness
That sweeps from the East

Warm Winds of the West, preserve us!

She’d kept both thoughts in her heart, knowing that the assurance of hope in her mother’s words was all the more precious in the light of her granny’s experiences.

Fairleaf shook the shadowy thoughts from her with a twitch and tremble of her limbs in the chilly wind. It was only a rainstorm that was boiling up in the dark clouds that moved nearer the town where the Inn stood. The trees would welcome the drink as would the gardens. Still, those new plantings she had seen near the house at the edge of the grounds would be beat down by the fat drops of rain that were sure to fall. Their roots had not yet time to anchor firmly in the loose soil. They would be washed out.

Amid the cover of the trees that here and there lined the edges of the Inn property, Fairleaf moved as quickly as she might toward the little garden. Most of the inhabitants of the Inn had already sought shelter within. If any saw her it would only be some brief shadow just beyond the thick leafed beeches. She chuckled at the thought as she strode along, wondering if a glimpse of her would conjure stories of some old boggart and keep prying eyes well away from her and her intended business.

[Sett]

Galither was contemplating his answer to the question. A small silence occurred between the other two because they knew of Galither and his lost love. The silence was soon broken by the interruption of another. Galither was pleased with the outcome of the question because discussing his love so far away from her would cause him great pain.

The man introduced himself as Falowik Stonewort. Galither was surprised to meet so many people in such a short period of time. The other two men sat silently and rather uncomfortable. Denegal was the first to speak to the man.

“I was telling these men a story of well, erm a time when I was in love”

Denegal was struggling to answer Falowik’s question so Galither took the initiative.

“Do you often walk into other conversations without an invitation mister?”

On a whim that he knew to be completely out of character for himself, Falowik announced,

Galither felt rather angry and upset at that statement. Others feeling love so close to each other while he has to only dream of his love were too painful to bear. A tear was starting to leak from his eyes. He did not want to look weak so he picked himself up.

Galither sat up and said, “I need to some fresh air outside and alone. I am going to scout the area and will be back after lunch.”

Galither left walked out of the common room and out of the inn hastily.
The other two sat there even more uncomfortable now, as they were not used to speaking with others without Galither. After a long silence they re- introduced themselves to try and salvage the conversation.

“I am Thenergol Lingman” and the other replied, “I am Sherman Dalsbury”

Thenergol then said “I am sorry for Galither leaving but you have to understand he is very sensitive about love after, well he will tell you if he feels right about it”


Sherman replied “Well it doesn’t matter now. We both have women back at Gondor and are deeply in love with them. Falmir on the other hand does not care for love. He only uses women for his own purposes. I think he sees love as an illusion for passion.”

The conversation seemed to be getting back into a casual flow but after all that had happened Thenergol and Sherman wished they had kept themselves to themselves during their stay at the inn.

[Mithalwen]

After parting from Uien and Falowik, Mithalwen returned to the inn and overheard much of Snaveling's conversation with Marigold. They did not notice her, for the elf moved silently and she was out of their sight lines.

A wry smile passed over her face when she heard Snaveling say that elves were a folk who live in dreams more than they do in the waking world - if anyone lived in a dream, she thought it was Snaveling who let the guilt of his ancestors become a burden that seemed to cripple him, preventing him from doing something constructive with his life. She had wondered if she had done right to clear his slate at the inn, since he seemed to have profited little from previous chances, but she accounted her gesture repaid when she heard his kindness to the orphaned hobbit girl.

The latter she recognised as the child whose cake had caused so much damage to Snaveling's tunic the day before and she wondered at the reconciliation. Strange were the twists of fortune, she mused. She noticed something glisten at the child's throat and a cry rose in her throat that she barely managed to stifle. It was the single pearl necklace that she had given the bride yesterday. She could not mistake her own workmanship. Had it been lost and found in the kerfuffle that had surrounded it's giving? She resisted immediate instinct to question the girl ... it was no longer hers to claim and perhaps the pearl would be of more use to it's current wearer.

Another thought rose in her mind and much as she wished to she could not dismiss it. The necklace was humble as elven jewellery goes but it would raise a useful sum for a penniless man. She recalled Snaveling's confession of the previous day ... he had done wrong in his time she knew but surely he would not stoop to robbing a child who had no family to defend her interests? It was time to declare her presence she decided and started to move closer .. singing softly under her breath as if she had just wandered in.

"Good morning Tar Corondir, ... good morning my lady " she said making a swift curtsy. I trust you are well rested?"

[piosenniel]

** Notice of Time Moving Forward in the Inn **

Please get any morning posts in you need to get done. When I return from work at midnight, Pacific time US, I'll be moving the Inn forward to noon and a little after.

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

‘Is that you?’ The sound of feet hurrying down from the attic rooms above the kitchen was quite plain as Cook stood in the doorway that led from the stairwell into the little passage way beyond the stove. Soon the two servers, Buttercup and Ginger were in view, chattering to one another as they made their way down to Cook.

‘Yes, it’s us,’ one of them called. Be there in half a tick.’ True to their word they tumbled through the doorway and skidded to a halt in front of her. Cook looked at the both of them, a bit flushed in the face, they were, and wondered what they had been up to. Ah, well, never mind that, she thought to herself, there’s work to be done. Which were here exact words to the both of them.

‘Ladies! Time we get lunch ready to serve. It’s been a long morning for those who came back to give us a hand putting away all the things from the party. Now I’ve got a nice bean with hambone soup going. It’ll be all ready by noontime. Ginger you get out the loaves I baked this morning and get them sliced up and into baskets. Buttercup you slice up platters of cheese. And where’s that Ruby now – one of you find her. She can get the pots of mustard and the pickles out to go with the bread and cheese.’ Cook turned back to the soup pot and gave it a stir. From a bowl on the counter near her, she dropped in a generous portion of ham chunks, celery pieces, carrots, and onion. ‘Scoot now,’ she said to the two Hobbits. ‘We’ve got a hungry household to feed!’

Cook stepped to the table where she was just rolling out the pastry for the topping to the deep dish apple cobbler. Once it was all baked and cooled a bit, lunch would be served. Ginger’s voice called over to her as she plied the rolling pin on the soon to be flaky pastry.

‘Oh, Miz Bunce,’ said Ginger, pausing for a moment from her work with the bread knife. ‘Miz Bella would like to see you when you have some time.’

[littlemanpoet]

“Do you often walk into other conversations without an invitation, mister?”

Falowik felt the words as if they were a hand forced into his chest. He exhaled involuntarily and felt an urge to turn his back on the man and again leave the company of other folk, forever. Uien's fair face came into his mind's eye; she had healed his heart, and this small sting need not send him back to his former despair. All this passed in his thought in a brief moment, for it was not the first time he had had to face such effrontery from another Man since he had met Uien.

"Nay. 'Tis unlike me to put myself forward in such fashion. But the question was one that I could answer easily, and chose to."

The man called Galither seemed the more angered by his words; Falowik wondered why. The man said, “I need some fresh air outside and alone. I am going to scout the area and will be back after lunch.” He walked hastily from the common room.

Falowik was relieved that it had not been himself who had walked away. Apparently he was not the only man who had darknesses to face from within.

The other men introduced themselves again, to Falowik's further relief, as Thenergol Lingman and Sherman Dalsbury.

Thenergol said, “I am sorry for Galither leaving but you have to understand he is very sensitive about love after, well he will tell you if he feels right about it.”

Sherman replied “Well it doesn’t matter now. We both have women back at Gondor and are deeply in love with them. Falmir on the other hand does not care for love. He only uses women for his own purposes. I think he sees love as an illusion for passion.”

"What of you, Denegal?" Falowik asked. "Have you ever been in love?"

[Envinyatar]

Drawn in by the smell from the kitchen, Derufin peeked his head in from the Common Room. 'Is there an old, dry crust of bread you can spare a starving man?' he said, looking forlorn. 'The wife refuses to cook for me! Imagine that!'

Zimzi was busy at the other end of the Inn, talking to Gil and the others about the puppets in the trunk. He’d helped the lads carry it to the small back room beyond the stairwell in the common room. But, his interested had waned when they’d begun to talk about putting some sort of play together. His stomach too had grumbled quite loudly as Gil began saying how it should be an exciting one, and that there should be swords and such. Zimzi had grinned up at him as he stood there trying to look interested. ‘Get yourself some food, husband,’ she’d said. ‘Cook will surely give you something if you just show her that sad, neglected face you know always gets round her.’

He'd raised his brows at her and tried to look offended at her assessment. But it was no use, she stood and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek then pushed him toward the kitchen. ‘You don’t want to come with me?’ he said, trying his sad expression on her.

She laughed, saying she would be there soon enough. And that Gil and Tomlin and the others of their little group would take care of her quite adequately in his short absence.

The lads nodded their heads in agreement, and Gil he noted stepped up beside her with a certain protective air. Now it was Derufin’s turn to smile. He nodded at the Hobbits, then spoke directly to Gil. ‘I’ll leave her in your charge then, Master Gil,’ he said. The Hobbit nodded solemnly, his chest puffing out a bit. ‘Come out to lunch soon . . . all of you,’ he said as he turned to leave. ‘I had a sudden thought . . . I’m not all that handy with puppets and tale telling and such. But you’ll be needed some sort of stage to perform on. And that’s something I can do.’

[piosenniel]

** Notice of Time Moving Forward in the Inn **

Please get any morning posts in you need to get done. When I return from work at midnight, Pacific time US, I'll be moving the Inn forward to noon and a little after.

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Nurumaiel]

Marigold's eyes flew up and a noticeable gasp burst from her lips before she could grasp the presence of mind to stop it. Oh, this was surely too much! It was enough for her that she had been able to meet the beautiful bride of yesterday, the one who had dried her tears and kissed her and gave her another cake. It was more than enough to be speaking with this Ranger (he must be a Ranger, even if he said he wasn't... didn't they like to keep it a secret, or something along those lines?) and waiting for his adventures (he had adventures, too, but perhaps modesty prevented him from telling of his heroic part). But for this beautiful woman to be standing before her... no, she wasn't a woman! It was not hard for Marigold to guess that by the maid's light-footed motions and easy grace, she must be an Elf.

These thoughts raced through her head, and for a moment she was thrown into great consternation. And then, recalling that these Elves and Men must receive no bad impression of Halfling hospitality, she stood and returned the curtsy, and though it was not nearly as graceful as that of the Elf's, she performed this well-known sign of courtesy with childish simplicity. And then, trying to keep the breathless tone out of her voice and mostly failing, she gestured to a chair. "Please, ma'am," she said, gazing up at the Elf with wide and earnest eyes, "sit down, and join us for as long as ever you please."

Having freshened up a bit, Shaeowyn found a table in the Inn from whence she could observe the comings and goings of many different folk. She asked her server for some hot tea and biscuits, even as she eyed the mugs of ale being exchanged amidst the lively conversation. Her thoughts bounced about, and she felt energized by her earlier ride through the woods on her beloved Windungen.
She could still feel the horse's powerful muscles carrying her over scattered logs and through the sunlit trees; granting her a feeling of freedom as the wind whipped through her wild, curly hair.

Once her tea arrived, the curious woman sipped slowly; her long, graceful fingers wrapped around the sturdy cup. She had just seen a young halfling named Marigold curtsy to an astonishing creature known as Mithalwen.
"Must be elvish," Shaeowyn thought to herself as she bit hungrily into her biscuit. And suddenly she felt warmth triggered from the inside as she saw images of her grandmother beckon to her from a time far away.

[piosenniel]

It is now noon in the Shire.

The sky is now quite grey and the rain is falling hard . . .

[Mithalwen]

"I would be most happy to do so - if Tar-Corondir does not object" replied Mithalwen to Marigold, sitting down before Snaveling could object. I had wondered about continuing my journey today but in light of the weather I think I shall delay - I am not likely to find much in the way of dry rooves and pleasant company until I reach Rivendell so I shall make the most of both while I may." She smiled at the hobbit child and gestured to Ruby for service. "I find I am developing a taste for tea - perhaps you both will join me ?"

When Ruby had taken her order for drinks and cake - (which Marigold had earnestly promised would not spoil her apetite for lunch), Mithalwen turned her attention to the hobbit child who was clearly enraptured by her mere presence. It did not take Elvish insight to know that she was near bursting with questions.

"Well, Miss Marigold, what may I tell you about elves?" ,she looked seriously at the child and pushed her silver hair behind her ears. "or perhaps Tar-Corondir here has already told you all about us". She had not forgotten his comment about elves living in dreams.

[Nurumaiel]

Marigold shook her head, and while her expression of face was grave, there were thrills running up and down her. The Elf had called her Miss Marigold! It wasn't the first time Marigold had been called 'Miss,' but it was certainly the first time an Elf had referred to her as thus. As she pondered, she realised anew that a first time an Elf had spoken to her at all, and she lifted her eyes wonderingly to the Elf's face again.

"Mr. Snaveling has not told me of Elves yet," said Marigold. "I was asking him to tell me about his adventures as a Ranger, but he said he had had none. I couldn't quite understand that, because of course Rangers always have adventures. He said that he wasn't a Ranger at all, but I don't believe him." She was quite aware that Snaveling heard every word she said, as he was sitting just across from her, but she gave a little toss of her head and didn't seem to mind that she was guilty of what Mrs. Hilldweller called 'impudence.'

"Would you tell me about Elves?" Marigold questioned eagerly, wondering if it was too bold of her to ask, and not reflecting that the Elf had offered it in the first place.

[samsmyhero]

Galither's sudden departure from the table surprised Denegal. He assumed Falowik's reference to his love had something to do with it, but he respected Galither's obvious need for privacy. Galither's two companions confirmed what Denegal had surmised. Well, perhaps Galither would speak of it when, and if, he wanted to.

Denegal turned all the possible answers to Falowik's question over and over in his mind. Had he been in love? He had been so sure - at one time. But now . . . well, it really all came down to your definition of love, didn't it?

"Well, Falowik, I thought I was in love once. Not so very long ago. You see, I fell in love with a beautiful face. But, perhaps I was more in love with the idea of being in love, than I was actually 'in love', if you know what I mean." He could see by the confused look on the others' faces that he wasn't making much sense. Then again, wasn't that just like most aspects of love - it never made any sense. "What I mean is, I had this idea that love was a very noble thing. You know, lords and their ladies, rescuing fair maidens from evil dragons, all that nonsense. My father had told me such tales when I was a little shaver, and so I guess I grew up thinking that's what a soldier would do - find a pretty maid, win her heart with his brave deeds, and live happily ever after. But, it's not really like that is it?" He sighed deeply and looked down at his ridiculous footwear.

"And in one sense, Falowik, that's why I'm wearing these idiotic looking slippers. If I hadn't 'fallen in love', I would never have been jilted, and thus would not have set out from Minas Tirith, as I did these eight months past. And I would not have lost my boot and thus have come to be sitting in an inn in the Shire wearing these things. My fellow countrymen here were wondering about my choice of shoes and thus we came to a contemplation of love. Confusing, I know!"

Like love and life, he thought to himself. Perhaps if his father had survived the siege of the white city he would have been able to impart a little more wisdom to his son. What with Denegal's uncle having left shortly thereafter for the north to help eradicate the last of the orcs and settle the old lands, there hadn't been any other men in the young boy's life from whom to learn the mysterious ways of women. Well, there had been grandfather, but Denegal had never felt too comfortable discussing such things with the old patriarch. And Mother had been no help whatsoever! She hadn't even wanted him to become a soldier. She didn't want him to go back to Minas Tirith. Well, perhaps after all, she had been right. Things certainly had not ended up the way he had planned.

Coming out of his short reverie, Denegal saw Falowik and the other two still looking at him. "So, tell us, Falowik" Denegal smiled "How have you been so lucky as to find that elusive sentiment - love?"

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

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.

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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 (played by Envinyatar)

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

Meriadoc - Stablemaster

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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