The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[piosenniel]

It is late evening in the Shire. The weather is fair; the stars are out

[Sapphire_Flame]

"So Miss Takua, you are a ranger? I have always wanted to join the rangers. It seems like the life that would suit me best."

"You need not address me as 'Miss'," Takua pointed out before addressing Peony's query.

"As for you joining the Rangers..." She surrepticiously looked the girl over. "So long as you have no qualms about spilling blood or," She gave a sardonic smile, "not bathing for weeks on end, from what I see you could do well. Especially with things as quiet as they have been of late."

Takua shook her head. "Since the end of the War, there has been little or no trouble here in the North. Of course, there has been work enough, trying to restore Arnor, but little in terms of fighting. It has become quite... dull." If Peony noticed the irate tone in Takua's voice, she didn't show it. "Not that fighting was a particularly good thing, if you wished to live for a decent length of time; but it kept things interesting." Her eyes lighted at the thought.

[Kitanna]

"It sounds so exciting to me." Peony said. "But I suppose it is not quite what I have built up in my mind" She smiled at Takua. "It is a shame I can't go to join the Rangers."

Peony tucked a piece of her red hair behind her ear. "So then Takua, what brings you to the Shire? Perhaps you are on an errand? Or just taking a trip?" She waited for Takua answer.

[piosenniel]

* ------------- NOTICE ------------- *

- All Posters in the Green Dragon Inn -

I’d like to encourage people to review the Shire Rules for posting, from The Red Book of Westmarch – especially Post #2; Rule #3:

Short chat-style posts which encourage other players to post in a chatty style are also not allowed. Be descriptive, and try not to use a lot of dialog.

I want to see more descriptive writing used in the Inn posts and less chatty dialog between characters.

Posts will be sent back to their writers for editing if they are mainly made up of ‘talk/dialog’ and do not let the reader see/hear/feel etc what is going on around the character.

~*~

I also want to encourage people to expand their game playing - take their writing skills out of the Inn and try writing a character for an actual RPG.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

~*~ Notice of New RPG Opening ~*~

ArwenBaggins invites you to take a look at her game: Farmer in the Dale

The Discussion Thread is now open to take on players.

Please, read the proposal carefully, craft a good character, and write a well done First Post.

See you there!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Araréiel]

Eryndil ended with a stare as if he was gazing through his own heart which lay far beyond. His nostalgia was short, and he turned to Araréiel, "I hope that answers your questions my lady. Now, tell me more of your sad story- if it does not dishearten you - for I would like to help any way I can." He smiled and waited.

"Help? Me?" How long had it been since anyone asked to help her? Araréiel looked around, certain he must be jesting. Her confidence was low, and she knew it. And she couldn't help it. She signaled over to the maid again and asked nervously for some wine, any wine. She sat silent, and would observe his reluctance to talk much about himself-for the moment. But she did have some questions she would ask of him soon.

Still, in her mind, she wondered just what to say to a request to help her. Should she tell him she is desperate to no longer wander by herself, that she just wants company? No, that would sound wrong, and be asking too much of a kind Elf she had just met. Or should she ask him to help her to....

A commotion broke out behind her. She turned to look over her shoulder only to see a couple of Hobbits, clearly with too much mead in them, dancing around, singing a slurred-song. One had apparently just bumped into a table. When she turned back to the table at which she sat, with Eryndil next to her, she saw that the maid had brought her food and wine while she was in her reverié.

Araréiel picked up her glass and peered through the bowl, clear, the pale pink-gold color of the drink combined with the clear, light-green of the stem reminding her of a flower. She looked at the bottom of the bowl and noticed etched leaves. Such beautiful glassware for the Shire, she thought to herself.

After taking a small sip, watching the stars through the window, appreciating the delicate bounty the wine had to offer, she looked back at Eryndil, her mind set on what she really wanted,, what she truly wanted, more than anything else in this world. She knew it would probably be too much to ask, ut he had offered, and so she would tell him. If he chose to not help, she would be no worse off than when she first ended this inn.

"I am not very old for an Elf. My family kept me sheltered from the world and anything it had to offer that was less than desireable. My playmates were chosen for me as a child, and later, my friends. I was never allowed to choose for myself who I befriended or where I went. The day came when my parents took me to one of their gardens and told me they thought it was time I chose a mate. But they gave me so few from which to choose, and they were all higher Elves. I didn't feel that I should have to choose from their list of nobles and royals just because of my birth." She stopped, shocked at herself for saying this much, such personal things to one she just met.

Her wine glass on the table, she picked up a fork and toyed with the chicken in front of her. Potatoes were mashed and covered with a splendid-smelling, creamy gravy. She stirred the small, green sweet peas into the potatoes, not really caring mush for eating now. But she heard the Elf encouraging her to eat. So she took a small bite, and rather likes its mix of flavors, different from what she had grown up eating, but more satisfying. She put her fork down and again picked up the wine. The stars were becoming so bright, so she concentrated on looking at those, twirling the stem of the glass in her fingers, memories of her past life assaulting her mind.

"Please continue," she heard Eryndil say, though his voice seemed to come from far away. So far away it could have been a memory of someone else saying the same words to her. Not certain who said it, she heeded it's request, still watching the stars for comfort.

She took a breath and went on. "I knew the Elves they listed, and they were mostly kind. One they listed already had a palce in my heart, and it was...more...than that of a friend, but I was afraid to name it. Yet when his name appeared on the list with the others, my heart rebelled. How dare they tell me what to feel in the core of my being? I began to notice others around me, servants. They were never among those whom I could play or befriend, yet I was not forbidden from talking to them. One in particular I grew to fancy. My brother caught me holding his hand and told Ada. My Ada told me to end it or he would send Caranturion away. I yelled at him that he couldn't do that to me. But he did. A few weeks later I left. If only I had kept to my heart what it felt in the first place none of this would have happened. If I hadn't rebelled from who I was already caring for...." Fresh tears threatened to fall.

To distract herself, Araréiel decided to watch the Hobbits behind her, their dancing stopped now. The little maid was now greatly upset with them for accidentally knocking over a table, spilling one dancing Hobbit and the remnants of a meal from it. The poor thing was on her hands and knees cleaning up, the Hobbit who had not been dancing on the table helping her, sputtering his apologies. Araréiel had the thought that that particular Hobbit had been trying to get her attention.

Suddenly she stared directly back into the green eyes of Eryndil. "I need help sorting out my heart. I need to learn to feel for myself, to discern if what I feel is truly what I feel or what I was raised to believe I feel, for both myself...and for others." She swallowed down a bit more wine and asked him, rather abruptly, throwing caustion to the wind, "Is this something with which you believe you can help me?"

[Mad Baggins]

Mira yawned hugely. Lily and the others had left; to go to bed, presumably. Now she was sitting alone at the table, quite close to dropping off. The other patrons in the room had quietened down considerably. The evening was beginning to take its toll on everyone, it seemed. Mira recalled when she had first sat down at the table and crimsoned at the mere memory of it. She had felt quite rude, interrupting their conversation like that.

She turned her mind away from the embarassing incident and thought about the coming day. The party was over, and that was what she had come for. She didn't want to leave for her home just yet. The Inn was such a comfortable place that when she was there, she didn't feel homesick at all. It felt like a second home to her.

Mira stifled another yawn and decided that it had been a long enough day for her. She got up to make her way to the room she was staying in and waved goodnight to the innkeeper. When she got to the room, she had just enough energy to change from her wrinkled dress into her nightgown. Then she cast herself upon the bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

[Osse]

Ferdibrand Brown lifted himself from the cold, saliva-soaked flagstones and immediately crashed his head into the oak of the heavy table above him. This shock only added to the throbbing pain he already felt in his grey-clad head. Crawling on his hands and knees, Ferdibrand managed to ease his way out from under the table. His mouth felt like someone had poured sand into it, and he knew he smelt like bile. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to remember how many half-pints he had stopped at that night. He could remember being in the Inn all that night, and probably the one before that too...

This had been only his second trip into the Inn in many years. Ferdibrand Brown of Waymeet didn't often find himself lounging in the Dragon, largely to the amount of "outlandish" and "uppish" folk that frequented its smoky depths. It was only business that pushed him to come out to the Bywater/Hobbiton area, he usually abvoided the area. Folk were strange out there and the place is usually full of Elves and other sorts of rascals. Ferdibrand Brown didn't much hold with outsiders.

The night before, he had found himself outside the Inn once more, and what seemed to be a great party was taking place inside the Inn and its grounds. He'd promised himself he'd only stay for a couple of ales, before starting on his way to his cousin's house in Bywater, but he soon found himself talking with an old friend. They had drank well into the night.

Staggering over to the bar, Ferdibrand placed three silver coins on it and passed through the door out into the pleasantly cool night air. His head pounded doubly as the nippy breeze played with his greying locks and he passed a hand over his stinging eyes. Walking over to his cart, he climbed up amongst the hay and after somehow attaching his pony, meandered off into the night. Any onlookers would have thought that the pony too had had a hard night out drinking at the Inn, by the way Ferdibrand steered her.

As long as he hadn't done anything embarrassing, he could live with himself. Unfortunately for him, he could not remember!

[piosenniel]

~*~ Notice of New RPG Opening ~*~

ArwenBaggins invites you to take a look at her game: Farmer in the Dale

The Discussion Thread is now open to take on players.

Please, read the proposal carefully, craft a good character, and write a well done First Post.

See you there!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Bombadil]

Things were strange at that moment, for in front of Eryndil sat a lonely Elf longing for a lost love, yet behind her some hobbits were putting on a strange act on the tables. He tried as best he could to ignore the hobbits, to stay concerned for the woman.

As the Elf poured her heart out, Eryndil slowly grew more mournful for her. He didn't even notice when the hobbits knocked over the table. He was trying to find the words. He looked out to the stars, and around the room at the fire and they didn't help him. He looked upon the fair elven face which sat in front of him, and slowly traced the edges around the leaves which lay upon her hair.

His mind was stirred into memory suddenly, as he looked at her plum dress. He had remembered now! For purple was his friend Legolas's favorite color. Eryndil thought back to a feast held in Eryn Lasgalen after the re-taking. Look at her she's beautiful! Eryndil remembered looking at that dress years ago at the feast. Then, completely forgetting her question for aid Eryndil blurted out, "You! You were at the great feast of Celeborn and Thranduil! I remember!! Were you not?"

[Araréiel]

"...at the great feast of Celeborn and Thranduil!..." These words rang through Araréiel's head. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Quickly she closed her mouth, at a loss for words. Memories flooded her mind of that feast. And what a feast it was. She had worn the same gown she wore now, only it was new at the time, not old and dirty. Her hair had been laced with ribbon in the same color as the gown, magnificantly displaying the pale lilac of her eyes and creamy color of her pale skin. Splendor and beauty filled everything around her that night, but she had spent most of it talking to suitors. She had not yet known that she would soon be told she must start deciding on her mate. Ignorant that her life would soon change, she enjoyed herself, laughing at the jokes and attempted jokes, at foolish displays for attention. She had her eye on but one, and he had only greeted her, kissing her hand, and welcoming her to the feast, before he had moved on to greet the next guest. Throughout the evening she had watched him, and he had watched her, but no more words had they the chance to speak....

She drank the last of her wine, but held on still the glass, oblivious to what was around her, the inn quieting for the evening. She smiled to herself at the memory, her eyes soft from what she saw in her mind, and spoke, confusion and question clear in her voice as she quetly said to him, "Yes, Eryndil, I was there that night, but how did you know? And...why do you ask?"

[ElentariGreenleaf]

A lone figure stumbled towards a well-lit building under the mystifying shine of the stars. The warm glow from the windows looked inviting, so the shadow of a man headed toward the building he did not know was the Green Dragon Inn. Weary from travelling, he pushed open the Inn's door, taking a moment to glance up at the Inn's sign, and slumped down at the nearest empty table. The lamps in the room cast dark shadows over his drawn face. He was thin. Too thin. Months of travelling alone, lost in the frozen northern lands had drained the life out of him, and now he was fading away, dying as many of his companions had, shot down by orcs as they crossed the High Pass on their way to the Icebay of Forochel from Rohan. But he was betrayed. At Carn Dûm, his supposedly trustworthy companions, who had not yet perished from the cold, decided that they had learnt enough about their destination from their leader. At the dead of night they turned on him, taking all his possessions, including his map of Middle Earth and his weapons. They left him defenceless, alone in unknown lands, and soon enough he was attacked.

Barely a week after his companions abandoned him, the bone-chilling cry of a wolf echoed through the night. A lone wolf hunted the man as he forced his mount to run in a mad gallop, froth appearing at the sides of her mouth. Eventually the mare could go no further and fell, instantly attacked by the ravenous wolf. The man had been flung from the horse as she fell, but his love for his beautiful mare drove him into battle with the wolf, only an old rusty dagger he had found in a deserted cave for a weapon. He survived with minor injuries, but his bay mare had been mutilated beyond recognition. With a heavy heart he took her life to save her from the agonising death that would have followed afterwards. Completely alone now, he had made his way back south, but lack of provisions meant he had no energy to continue. Standing atop a small cliff, he stumbled and fell, hitting his head on his fall to the ground far below. It was a miracle he survived the fall, yet now he remembered nothing of his journey or betrayal, remembered nothing of himself. Amnesia had spread through the man's mind as his head hit the ground at the bottom of the cliff. Now he only knew one thing:

His name was Atulan.

[Sapphire_Flame]

"Merely wandering," Takua replied. "The general occupation of a Ranger." A few more people had wandered into the Inn, including a man who seemed little more than a skeleton. Takua spared him a questioning look before returning her gaze to Peony.

"I'm not sure what exactly you have built up in your mind about being a Ranger," she continued, "but I will not even assume to deny that it is a... very involved lifestyle. More so during the War than now." Her eyes suddenly emptied of all emotion. "I lost my younger brother in the War, at the Battle of the Pelennor. We here did not receive news of this until well after the fact, not for some months. Thank the Valar, that my father and elder brothers returned safely home." She stared moodily into space.

When Peony made no immediate reply, Takua glanced at her again. "Removed a stone or two from your pedestal?" she asked with a grim smirk.

[Kitanna]

Peony felt guilt flowing through her veins. "I am so sorry, Takua." She replied lowering her head. "I can never imagine losing a family member like that. Both my brothers served." She paused for a moment.

It was true she had not lost her brothers in the War, but she had lost her best friend. He had served and died for Gondor and from what she gathered he had died to save her twin's life. She still thought about him, but she tried to push the memory out and up until now she had been doing quite well with it.

Peony looked around the inn at the other people milliing about. Deva was still in the corner, smoking his pipe and looking around at all the people. She turned her attention back to Takua. "Again I am truly sorry."

[littlemanpoet]

Uien had led Falowik into the kitchen. Cook had returned, and Derufin as well. Uien looked at Derufin with a smile on her face, but he did not seem to see her. He has been away and busy, and has forgotten me; it has been a long time. Her heart did not believe her words, though. She turned to Falowik.

"Let us leave them to their reacquaintance, Lauréatan. Maybe later tonight we can reintroduce ourselves to Derufin."

Falowik tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, for he was surprised at Uien's action. It was as if seeing Derufin had brought her back to how she had been last summer, for she had told him the story of being at wit's end, affrighted at the least circumstances in a day, trusting no one, not even herself, and then Derufin had shown kindness; and now he did not see her.

"Come, fair one, my love, let's sit with Eodwine and the others and take our rest."

"Aye." He took her hand, entwining his fingers in hers, and led her around the bar, past the tables, to the place where Eodwine, Finëwen and the hobbits sat, still drinking ales, seeming quite slack in the mouth; even Finëwen.

[piosenniel]

Zimzirân fetches Uien and Falowik back to the kitchen

It was Zimzi who saw the look on the Elf’s face and how she turned away leaving the kitchen, the man at her side. She could not recall his name, but the Elf she remembered was Uien. The one that had carved the mallorn flower for Derufin, leaving it for him to find when she went away north.

It was shortly after she had arrived at the Inn with Piosenniel and her family. Zimzi had become friends with the Stablemaster, the attraction being mutual, and they soon found themselves spending time together, enjoying the pleasures of each others’ company. She found the carving up on his shelf one late afternoon, not long after they’d met, when she’d gone to fetch him for Cook. She could not resist a closer look at its delicate work and found herself turning it round about in her long, slim fingers, marveling at the intricacy of the petals.

‘A friend made that for me,’ he’d said, coming quietly up behind her. ‘Uien, it was.’ She dropped it in his outstretched hand. ‘Someone who holds you dear, I think,’ Zimzi said, a considering look on her face. ‘Tell me of her, if you will.’

Derufin spoke at length of the woman, his guileless words allaying Zimzi’s fears. Derufin, for his part, had liked Uien from the start. A shy little thing, he said fondly of her, just needing a gentling hand to help her find her own way. Skittish, unsure, like a new filly her legs still a bit wobbly beneath her.

Never mind that she was probably years older than him, he’d simply seen her with fresh eyes and expected no more of her than he would of himself, thought Zimzi, now looking back on that conversation. She’d seen him do this with others that he’d met. His straightforward acceptance letting them meet him on an equal footing.

Zimzi smiled up at Derufin as he raised his glass to her and spoke his toast. The bond between them was so sure now that she knew it could hold all of their past without exclusion. She took a sip of her wine and rose from her seat, saying to him she would return in a moment.

The Common Room was crowded with people, and after a few false starts, Zimzi saw Uien sitting at a table with another Elf, two men, and some Hobbits. She caught the woman’s eye as she approached saying, ‘You’re Uien, are you not?’ The Elf colored a bit at the attention and nodded. Zimzi went on, saying that she knew they had not met as yet, but that Derufin had spoken fondly of Uien and often. And would she and her friend, Zimzi smiled graciously at Falowik, not come into the kitchen and share a glass of wine with her and Derufin? ‘I feel that I know you already, Mistress Uien,’ she said, laughing and taking the Elf’s hands into her own. ‘I know you were a friend to Derufin, and I should like to think we could also be friends.’

‘Come,’ she urged them, stepping back toward the kitchen. ‘Raise a toast with us. He will be overjoyed to see you, I know. Wish Derufin well on his new adventure.’

Uien’s brow furrowed at the last words, asking what venture that might be.

Zimzi laughed, motioning them both to follow after her. ‘We’re to be wed. Come, share our happiness . . .’

[Rinfanawen]

As the bright, glistening stars hung overhead in the blackened sky, quiet sounds of a striding horse began to echo down the dusty road. The land was quiet. The shadows had long overtook what was once a sunlit town in the Shire. All visible life had settled in for the night, and yet Anabell rode on. She had heard of the well-favored Green Dragon Inn of Bywater, and for this she was searching. Her tired eyes wandered to the coming hill. Clouds of smoke seemed to ascend from the very road upon which she was riding. With every stop of her calico-colored horse over the hill, however, appeared more and more of the smoke-filled chimney and the lovely inn at its base.

Flickering lights from the inn's windows shone down onto the road as she approached. The land was indeed quiet no more, for voices of humans and horses in the stables filled the air. Ana quickly decided to leave her steed with the others in the stables. The small building was dark, hidden behind shadows. She alighted from the horse slowly, lowering the hood of her green cloak from her head as she touched the ground. Her steps cracked pieces of straw that were strewn atop the ground. Ana moved fast around the inn until she came once again in front of the small, wooden door. With a deep breath and a quick movement of her hand to the doorknob, she opened the door and stepped into the bright, fire-lit room.

Ana blinked twice at the light. Her bright, green eyes quickly adjusted while she searched the room for an unoccupied table. Instead of a table, however, she chose to take a seat at the counter, which she found to be somewhat occupied, but not entirely full. She moved silently through the room. Her long, curly, red hair hung over her fair skin and slightly pointed ears as she walked. She kept her eyes to the ground, seldomly raising them and only to peer upon her destination. Ah, I've arrived her pounding heart seemed to tell her as she sat upon a stool at the bar. She closed her eyes. She was tired. Her weary eyes had seen far too great a sorrow and torture to bother with sleep at this time, though. A trip to the Gray Havens was not a friendly sight for one who did not board the ship. She could not keep her mind off of the heartache her beloved Elven people saw as they sailed away while she still stood upon the shores of Middle Earth. But it was not her choice. She had no way of taking the ship...not one of her kind, at least. In fact, she began to wonder whether there were any of her kind in the first place. Part Elven, Man, and Hobbit, oh such a cursed and mixed up family I come from, she thought.

However, those thoughts were all in the past now. Her eyes opened once again to see a smiling face in front of her.

"Ruby Brown's the name," the Hobbit woman said. "Will you be having something to drink, miss, or to eat, maybe?"

Ana stuttered for a moment as her thoughts turned back to reality. "Uh, if you have any drink that will keep me awake, then by all mean, bring it," replied Ana with a slight smile. Within minutes the Hobbit had returned with a hot cup of tea.

"This is the finest tea in all of Bywater. It's steamy aroma will keep you up for a while," Ruby commented as she placed the drink in front of the her.

"Thank you, miss brown," Ana replied, and took a sip of the warm beverage.

[Fallinel]

Njeri's year-long journey had taken her far from her home in the Sutherland, and now she had entered a strange land called "the Shire". Indeed, it was the strangest land she had seen so far, inhabited by people who were only half her height, and who seemed to fear water and boats. The Halflings were superficially friendly, but stared furtively and a bit rudely at Njeri's loose, dyed cotton clothing and head scarf as she rode by on her desert-bred mare, Ismitta. Her skin was no darker than that of many of the rough farmers here, and her eyes were dark blue like those of some Hobbits; yet, underneath the head scarf, Njeri's tightly curled hair was tamed by numerous small, neat braids-a hairstyle that no Hobbit had ever seen.

Njeri had lived all her life in a large fishing village, with a busy harbor, south of Umbar on the coast of Far Harad. Her father had been an important and highly educated man, who had made sure that Njeri was well-versed in the poetry, literature, art, and history of her culture. She had been named for the ancestral roles of the men in her family: Njeri, Warrior's Daughter. The war, however, had changed the lives of all in the Sutherland, and Njeri was no exception. After her husband had been killed, she had fashioned a living for herself by establishing and running an inn in the village, with a popular restaurant, and several comfortable rooms for travelers. But after a few years, the increasing numbers of roving bandits and cruel gangs made it impossible for Njeri, as a widowed woman, to maintain her inn, and she had decided to travel north out of Harad.

Njeri had fashioned saddle packs to hold her few treasured belongings, and started her journey north about a year earlier; she had stubbornly clung to the coastline of Umbar, Harondor, and Gondor as she rode, because she could not bear to be far from the Sea. There had been trouble in Edhellond, and thereafter she had avoided large cities. Njeri and her dun mare had scrambled over the southern tip of the White Mountains, and thereafter it became difficult to stay near the coast. Njeri had been forced to head inland, and eventually encountered a Great Road, running north-south.

It was early evening as Njeri and Ismitta approached the inn; the tall woman of Harad dismounted, and led her mare to the nearby stableyard. She was apprehensive about talking to any of the Halflings, and she feared that the innkeepers might turn her away.

[Alaksoron]

Thirteen tall, silver haired men on equally silvery stallions slowly trotted down the main road. A faint breeze suddenly blew from the West, rippling their long white cloaks. The faint light of the waning moon glinted on the polished steel of their light mail coats.

The eerie howl of a lone wolf broke the relative quiet of the evening. A moment later another answered. Then another. The first wolf howled again. Soon several wolves howled in answer. Somewhere a whole pack was hunting together.

Riding at the head and obviously the leader, his hair hanging nearly to his waist, Korik smiled gleefully. In a state of euphoria, he was tempted to lean back his head, point his nose to the moon, and howl himself. Smiling, he reined in before the Green Dragon. The others did so also.

Korik dismounted and waited for his companions to follow. He handed the hobbit stableboy a bulging bag the size of his head. The already dazed lad nearly fainted when he opened it to discover it filled with gold coins.

Unable to control himself, Korik broke into a racous laughter. Composing himself, he bade the lad take excellent care of his horses, there was more where that came from. Korik managed to suppress a chuckle as he watched the short hobbit struggle with the bags weight as well as the horses reins.

Still in his good mood, he led his men inside. They all sat around one large round oaken table, drinking ales and telling jokes with each other. They were a jolly, good-natured lot, laughing, singing, and slapping each other heartily on the back.

For soldiers, they were a pleasant group. They talked loud,but not rough or boisterous. Their language and jokes were clean. They paid well, and the leader seemed to know Mistress Aman. They were cordial to the servers, but not leering.

Presently, Korik looked over to the attractive red-headed woman seated across from the delirious dwarf. "Hey-ho, lass! Buy you a drink? He pulled up a chair, hoping she would accept. He smiled a friendly smile.

[piosenniel]

~*~ Notice of New RPG Opening ~*~

ArwenBaggins invites you to take a look at her game: Farmer in the Dale

The Discussion Thread is now open to take on players - there are 2 spots left.

Please, read the proposal carefully, craft a good character, and write a well done First Post.

See you there!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Bombadil]

"Yes, Eryndil, I was there that night, but how did you know? And...why do you ask?" Araréiel asked.

"Well- uh..." Eryndil looked puzzled as if he was thinking up the response at the present time. Truth being, he knew who she was from his friend Legolas. For he spent the night telling Eryndil how lovely she was, and how he'd love to dance with her. But Legolas was caught off guard by the lady Araréiel, and was too afraid to ask her.

"Well...Legolas mentioned your name to me as you came through..." Well elves are not very good liars, and Araréiel could see in the depths of Eryndil's eyes that there was much more he wasn't telling her.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman finally excused herself from Cook's company, promising to hear all of their tales later when the stream of customers died down for the night. Cook, for her part, was uncharacteristically unwilling to let Aman go, but eventually let her back to the Common Room to continue with the night's serving.

Seeing a awkward, exotic looking character enter the Inn - a dark woman, her eyes deep blue and almost furtive as she glanced around the Inn, a hand reaching self-conciously to the headscarf wrapped around her hair and face, pulling it down a little so Aman could see her proud, angular features. Haradrim. Aman smiled politely at the woman, making sure several of the hobbits saw as she did so: there was still sometimes uneasiness and even unfriendliness when the Southrons came to the Shire, but Aman would have no violence here - no matter where the woman came from, she knew as well as any that the hobbits were quite able to accept strangers if only they gave them a chance. The woman smiled back nervously, obviously aware of the sharp glances from around the room, stepping further in.

She did not approach the Innkeeper immediately, but something else made Aman pause in her work, her cheerful whistling halting, and she straightened up. The sound of wolves seemed to suddenly get louder outside, even over the noise of the Green Dragon customers. Eerie, unearthly wails, like none Aman had heard for years, filtered in distantly, and the noise in the Inn momentarily hushed, as many of the customers strained to hear it. Aman shivered, unable to help herself, then with practised nonchalance, she continued wiping down the table in front of her.

But the respite was only momentary, as only a few minutes later, the clattering of heavy shod hooves filled the courtyard outside, accompanied by the sound of mens' voices and laughter, muffled jokes and incomprehensible words, feet hitting the floor with light thuds. A jolly sound indeed, but Aman still straightened up again, waiting for the group to enter: there was something familiar about one voice, a particularly loud one that seemed to reach over the others without straining itself - defined and quietly powerful even from outside. Aman heard them approaching and counted down mentally. Five...four...three...two...

"Korik!"

Aman gasped with surprise as the leader of the group swung open the door, his long, silvery hair hardly ruffled by the wind, flowing as one with his cloak. Behind him crowded others, and even though she couldn't see them, Aman knew there would be exactly twelve others. The leader smiled and bowed lightly, his hand resting casually on his sword hilt. "Good evening, Miss Aman."

The Innkeeper smiled, coming towards them and gesturing them inside. The group crowded in good-naturedly, talking and joking merrily among themselves as Ruby and Buttercup scurried up to take their orders, notepads at the ready. Aman pulled back a chair for Korik and inquired as to what he would have. "We're still serving food as well - mealtime in the Shire doesn't ever really stop," she added with a smile. Hesitating, she then approached the subject she needed to mention. "Korik...you know the rules of most of the Inns around this side of Middle Earth," she said gently. He looked at her inquiringly and she lightly touched a hand to his sword hilt. No weapons. "Please? I can't take any chances."

[Sapphire_Flame]

"You need not apologize. I doubt you had anything to do with his death; unless you happened to be fighting for Mordor at the time," she added as a grim joke.

Peony looked scandalized. "How can you joke about something like that?"

"Comes from being a Ranger. You develop a tough skin about some things." She glanced around the Inn, noticing the arrival of a group of silver-haired men, and what looked to be a Haradrim woman, then looked at Peony carefully. "Judging by your indignation, you too had kin in the War. What happened to them?"

[Araréiel]

"Well...Legolas mentioned your name to me as you came through..."

Araréiel didn't know whether to laugh at the transparency of his lie or to ask for more information. To give herself time to think, she picked up a spoon-full of her now-cold potatoes and took a bite. She didn't want him to know just how curious she was. But how to ask? She found herself rather enjoying the conversation. She glanced at him again and laughed, nearly choking on the food in her mouth. To help the potatoes go down, she pounded on her chest with a fist and took a deep breath, but a small giggle still escaped.

"Excuse, me, may I have more wine please?" she asked the passing maid.

Oh, this can't be right, this curiousity, this hope! I loved someone else, and Legolas was just a friend.... she thought. Loved? She felt confused, and... Did I only care for Legolas as a friend?

Turning back to Eryndil, she forced herself to be calm, trying to recall her upbringing and training to act collected, no matter what she faced. Yet her eyes gave away her eagerness, mixed with confusion, for more.

"Why did you remember me?" she said slowly. "My apology, but I just can't remember you there, yet you remember who I am. I'm certain that he pointed out more maidens to you that just myself."

[Kitanna]

Peony followed Takua's stare to the group of silver haired men who had just entered. She raised an eyebrow and returned her attention to her companion. "Both my brothers served in the War. My older brother was a Guard of the Citadel and my twin served as well. I am happy to say they are both alive and well, but we did lose a close friend in the War."

Peony sighed and looked once more at Deva. Turning back she added, "He died for his country and to save my twin's life. I owe him so much, but I suppose that is the price we pay for living in such times."

She let the thoughts slip from her mind, "But for the present let us not mourn the dead, but celebrate the living. How 'bout some ale?"

[Bombadil]

Eryndil tried to divert his gaze to other events in the Inn, trying not to give away the secret which he wanted to keep within his own memory. But as he looked upon the face of Araréiel, he noted a distinct eagerness in her eyes.

"Why did you remember me? My apology, but I just can't remember you there, yet you remember who I am. I'm certain that he pointed out more maidens to you than just myself." Eryndil bowed his head as if shamed by his lie. "Well my lady, it seems that as you have seen the story short of what it truly is in my eyes, I just the same have seen the excitement in your eyes. Let us stop hiding thoughts form one another, and I shall start."

Galendor told her all that legolas had said that night and how he had wanted to dance with her. As he told her of the shyness of Legolas that night he noticed how she laughed- as if nothing was bothering her - and he was glad that he was helping to lift her spirits so. When he finished Araréiel's laugh trailed off as if met with serious thought. She sat still for some time, and neither elf broke the silence as she pondered what had passed, and what will be...

[Alaksoron]

"Hey, you! Didn't you hear me, lass?" Korik said in a rough voice, not unfriendly. The red-headed woman had looked at him, but still had not answered him. There was a man sitting with her now too, besides the dwarf. He thought he recognized the Ranger with her. Takua.

Korik shrugged. "If people want to be rude, no skin off my back" he thought.

[Kitanna]

"Hey, you! Didn't you hear me, lass?" Peony looked up at the man with the silvery hair. She had no idea he was even talking to her.

"I am so sorry sir," She said moving the chair out for him. "I did not know you were speaking to me. But please accept my apologizes and join us."

Korik took a seat with Peony and Takua. "My name is Peony and this is Takua." Peony said, taking introductions into her own hands. "And who might you be, sir?"

[littlemanpoet]

"To be wed! That is glad news!" cried Uien, her eyes alight, flashing a smile back to Falowik. He gave a perfunctory smile, not knowing this strange woman, Zimzi, at all, and having been acquainted with Derufin for a little more than a day. He would be happy for them for Uien's sake.

Zimzi held Uien's hand and led her into the kitchen, and they wove their way between Buttercup and Cook and pots and pans and table and chairs, to Derufin, who stood leaning against the doorpost where Zimzi had left him.

"Derufin! See whom I have brought! Uien, the elf who made the figurine that I love!"

Derufin's eyes moved quickly from Zimzi to Uien, and recognition was immediate.

"Good greeting, Derufin," Uien smiled. "You remember Falowik?"

[Araréiel]

Araréiel remembered back many years, first learning to dance. How she despised Legolas, the arrogant young prince! Oh, he was nice enough to everyone else, and even to her at affairs, but alone he loved to torment her. She couldn't wait to be grown to put him in his place! But the instructor, deciding to attempt to end the rivalry, had made them dance partners! The rotten young Elf had teased her mercilessly that he would dance better than she, yet it was he who couldn't keep up with her. The instructor admonished him for mis-stepping many times and praised her graceful movements. Crimson-faced, Legolas never teased her so ruthelessly again.

She smiled now with satisfaction at the memory at the joy she felt at showing him he wasn't always the best at everything and that no harm would come to him if someone else was better. This is how she justified his shyness at the feast for Eryndil had barely hinted at any reason. He seemed almost anxious to tell her more, and so she was disapponted that he had not. But she would not press for more. Not just yet. If he chose to tell her more soon, that would be his choise. For now, she did not wish to seem so intrigued, and the self-control she exerted in holding her tongue from questioning further pained her.

Looking now at Eryndil, she asked him, "Would you walk with me? I'm getting a bit restless."

He smiled back at her, and followed her out the door.

The stars shone down, gleaming bright in the clear, late evening sky. Araréiel spied a star.... "That star is for you," Legolas had told her, pointing to the middle star in the constellation of Wilwarin.* To this star Araréiel now pointed.

"Do you see that star there?" she asked. Without waiting for a response from her new friend, she continued, "Legolas once told me in passing that that star was for me. Over the years he alluded to me being like a butterfly, free in spirit, refusing to completely reform to the expectations placed on me. The conformity of those of my station were expected to behave as a noble, always be so predictible and follow etiquette to a fault. He never expected it of me as much. He even seemed to goad me on.

"Part of me loved him for it. The other part rebelled, though I now wonder if that was just juvenile immaturity."

Eryndil watched her silently and smiled at her. He noticed her biting her lip, knowing she was debating what to say next.

The blonde Elf kicked at the ground, suddenly seeming angry at something. "In retrospect, I do believe I just wanted to go against my parents, be free, and it is because of that that I fell in love with another-to not marry off of their list. That lost made me feel as if I were a prize. Yet if I had opened my eyes, set aside my stubborn ways, I would have seen that the one I had already loved was right in front of me all the time, and my parents were giving me their blessing...albeit in an indirect manner." Staring up at the star again, she traced the whole constellation, the five stars, with her finger, doubling back, stopping on the center star, holding her finger over it. Softly she said, more to herself, "I often find myself wondering what he's doing, if he even remembers me...." A slight breeze caressed her face as she thought of what she had lost because she had been so hard-headed.

Eryndil took a couple of steps, snapping Araréiel out of her memories. He plucked a small yellow flower from the grass and twisted the stem between his fingers, watching the petals flare out as he spun it, first one direction, then the other, before looking back to her, smiling. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Araréiel spoke before him, suddenly self-conscious of the bits of twig and leaves in her hair, nearly ashamed that she now was so shabby when once she had been dressed so fine.

If Legolas, or indeed any of her acquantences, or even Caranturion, could see her now....

Picking out of her hair bits of debris, she delicately ventured to ask him. "You told me,

In Fangorn did the young elf lie,

beside his mother who had died.

and

His Father dead, alone and scared

the shepards of the forest cared.

Do you know from where you came before this? I'm sorry if it upsets or offends you, and you do not have to speak of it if you wish to keep it unspoken. I am just curious as to your history."




(*Wilwarin is Butterfly, also known as Cassiopeia. Or so I once read Tolkien named that constellation.)

[Envinyatar]

Her blue eyes were on him, as they had been so many times before. But this time the past did not rise up and cloud them. They were clear and the fair light of hope glinted from them. Hope and something else he recognized. She stood near the man at her side. Her fingers entwined with his.

‘You remember Falowik?’

‘Of course, m’Lady,’ Derufin said, smiles wreathing his face at this welcome reunion with Uien. He clapped Falowik on the shoulder, his eyes taking the man’s measure. ‘My pleasure, Falowik. It is good to have you back safe from your recent journey.’ Derufin turned back to Uien and drew her closer, her small slender hands grasped in his.

‘You look beautiful, little one. You have found some peace, I think,’ he said in a low voice bending near her ear. She colored prettily, golden strands of hair brushing across her cheeks as she dipped her head forward. ‘And so have I,’ he went on, the fingers of his right hand raising her chin up. His clear grey eyes sought hers, laughing. Zimziran had drawn near at his beckoning gesture. His fingers found hers as he spoke of her to Uien.

Buttercup passed through the little group in the kitchen with a further round of wine. Another toast was made in celebration of friends well met once again. As those in the kitchen sipped at their wine, Derufin whispered softly to Uien who stood near. ‘The past no longer holds us in its sway, I think. The shadow has lifted and is powerless to harm us.’ He raised his glass slightly to her. ‘Or so is my hope . . .’

[Bombadil]

Araréiel walked with Eryndil beneath the stars. The night was cool and Eryndil had removed his sandals to walk upon the soft grass. He smiled as Araréiel showed him the constellation Legolas had said was for her.

He picked a flower and as he spun it in between his slender fingers he went deep into thought. It was interrupted by the elven lady's voice, "You told me,

In Fangorn did the young elf lie,
beside his mother who had died.
and
His Father dead, alone and scared
the shepards of the forest cared.
Do you know from where you came before this? I'm sorry if it upsets or offends you, and you do not have to speak of it if you wish to keep it unspoken. I am just curious as to your history."

This threw him deep into memory, for he remembered the stories of the Ents. Treebeard had waited until he was of good age to tell him the fate of his parents:

Hroom young Eryndil, long have you asked for the knowledge of the Ents; the Knowledge of your mother and father. Long have we denied you this sad tale, but you must know- for with their sorrow comes valour also. For you mother and father were lovers, and they walked the woods of the world hand in hand. It was beneath the canopy of Fangorn in which they conceived of you Eryndil. I had spoken to your parents, and long did they stay with the ents. Great were they, elves of old, of the Avari they were. But one day, against my will they left my forest to return to their home (which was unknown to me) to have their child. All I remember form that point on was your mother returning with an arrow in her shoulder. She came to me crying, 'Celebrun! He is dead! We were waylaid by a group of orcs in the southern reaches of Greenwood! He killed many defending me but could only take 5 of the arrows shot until he fell. The 6th hit me. I am dying... soon the child Eryndil will come forth, and then I shall pass to the Halls of Mandos. Take care of him please.' I watched her give birth to you, Eryndil, and I could not help. She had the strength to bring you to the world alone...

Eryndil was disturbed by this memory, and grieved. For he felt as if he truly knew his mother and father. "I- I know not from where my parents hail, but long did they live with the friendship of Fangorn...and I'm sorry but that is all I can bear to say."

Eryndil looked up to see concern on Araréiel's face. "So...um- what were we talking about?"

[littlemanpoet]

‘Or so is my hope . . ." Derufin said, his grey eyes twinkling kindly. Uien smiled and returned his look, her heart full.

"It is more than a hope, Derufin, my friend." She looked to Falowik, who watched her with his steady gaze, his expression and eyes speaking his heart to her. She turned to Derufin again. "That which you saw flower of a sudden between Falowik and me, has ripened and grown strong as a young sapling." She looked long and steady on Derufin, her own face the embodiment of completion. "I will not go over sea. I will remain with Falowik as long as life remains in both of us."

She squeezed Falowik's hand, whose eyes widened, then closed as he shook his head, caught in wonder at his good fortune.

"I am the luckiest man alive," he said.

Derufin grinned. "That happenstance falls to me, Falowik, for Zimzi and I are to be wed."

Falowik laughed. "I will not argue the point. I wish you both great happiness for all your days!"

[Araréiel]

"I- I know not from where my parents hail, but long did they live with the friendship of Fangorn...and I'm sorry but that is all I can bear to say." Eryndil's eyes flashed a deep sadness for a brief moment. Araréiel caught the look and regretted asking him this question. Her heart ached for him as he asked her, ""So...um- what were we talking about?"

"Well-" she began, reluctantly, "we were discussing Legolas and how shy he was." Araréiel stretched her hands over her head, staring at the sky above her. She slowly lowered her arms to her sides, palms up. Suddenly she grabed her skirt with once hand, her other in the air, and danced to a silent tune as if she had an invisible partner. She got caught up on a step she had forgotten and laughed, glad to hear Eryndil laugh with her. "Now that I've made myself a thorough fool, I'm going to ask of you what I was not going to: Will you please tell me what I know it is you are keeping from me?"

Eryndil watched her face beam at him, grinning broadly, licking her lips in anticipation of his answer. He clasped his hands behind his back, the flower bud dropping to the ground, and smiled at her. He rather enjoyed toying with her, holding back the secret information she was eager to hear. He had promised to tell no one, but he also liked seeing her happy. He had to decide what to do, to keep a promise or to tell her more, bit by bit?

The weather suddenly changed. The breeze became cool, and at times the wind would gust so chillingly, it seemed to pierce the hearts of all in the inn. All who were outside came in, but two curious hobbit lasses came outside of the inn to see what was wrong. The sky was growing dark and cloudy, and fog was laying out across the Shire. The smaller lass whispered, "What do you think is going wrong, May?"

Just as May leaned down to offer her answer to her young sister, something caught her gaze. She saw a tall, cloaked figure walking slowly in the distance. As it drew closer, the fog grew denser, and the clouds began to pour out their fear with rain.

"I cannot see!" cried the older sister. She was suddenly pushed against the wall of the inn, and she could only hear splashing foot steps and screams in the distance. The rain ended, and the fog faded, but only in the least bit.

May stood up. She searched around frantically for her young sister. "Ezzie! Ezzie?" she screamed, but her wild shouts only echoed in vain. May fell to her knees and began to weep unmercifully. amidst her confused emotions, she felt a hand touch her shoulder in comfort......

[Fallinel]

Njeri led Ismitta into the stableyard of the inn, and was greeted politely by the ostler, who had emerged from a large storage room. "Good evening, mi'lady-I'm sorry, I didn't hear you enter the yard immediately. My hearing is sharp, but your horse is not shod, and I'm used to listening for the clatter of iron on cobblestones. I assume that you'll be wanting a stall for that mare of yours-at least one night?"

Njeri nodded, and asked the Hobbit whether there were any rooms available at the inn. "Oh, yes!" he replied, "We always find a room for a weary traveller at the Green Dragon." The Hobbit had walked right up to Ismitta, and was patting the mare's graceful neck gently. Ismitta was calm and kind and loved people, and clearly the Hobbit was comfortable around horses and ponies of all types and temperaments; truly, it was Njeri herself, not the desert mare, who was the reticent and aloof individual.

"She's a beautiful horse, and an unusual color for these parts. I don't think I've ever seen a horse with as pretty a head, and such graceful ears, either. Where did you get her? She's not like any steed of Rohan, or a native Shire pony, or a Gondorian draft horse, or..."

Njeri warmed to the Hobbit, another horse-person who was so excited about a novel breed that his words ran over each other like tumbling seashells in the rough surf. "We both come from Harad, Ismitta and I," said Njeri, "and she is very typical of our horses-smaller than those of Rohan and less swift, but with great endurance, character, and nobility. Her name means 'Daughter of the Mountains of the Moon', and we have been together since she was a young filly. My husband owned Ismitta's older brother, but..." Njeri's voice trailed off, and her eyes took on the faraway look once again.

"Well, mi'lady, I'll take very good care of Ismitta, and make sure that she has plenty of hay and water tonight, with fresh straw in her stall. You'd best enter the inn and get some dinner-you look famished." Njeri thanked the ostler, and walked slowly towards the door of the Green Dragon. Suddenly, the howls of great northern wolves could be heard, and Njeri shuddered involuntarily. They sounded so different from, and much more fierce than, the howls of the small desert wolves of Harad. She pulled her headscarf across the lower part of her face in a defensive gesture.

Faëron felt a cold breeze that tickled his bare face. He ran up the hill as he started to freeze. He suddenly stopped and looked up in the sky. He could see thousands of stars. He looked down the hill and saw an inn. He hummed and thought I think I've been here before, yet I'm not sure. He pulled his mantle closer around his body began to walk down the hill. He could see lights in the windows and he read on a sign; The Green Dragon Inn. He pulled his fingers through his short stubble. His fingers stopped when he touched his scar that he had on his right cheek. Two months ago he had been attacked by an orc, he barely escaped, but the orc succeded to scratch him with his dagger before he got away. He sighed and continued walking down the hill to the inn.

Faëron looked around himself as he entered the inn, he pulled back his darkgreen hood and shook his brown hair. It was shoulderlong and his green eyes glistened in the light. He had been visiting this inn a few times before, quite often actually, but that was long ago. He walked softly over to an empty table and sat down in a chair. He leaned back and looked at all the stars outside the windows. I wonder if anyone will recognize me here... He gasped and closed his eyes for the moment. It was quite late now and he really wanted a bed right now and rest, he had been walking the whole day with no break. I'll find myself a room soon, but first I need something to sooth my thirst. He rose up from his chair and felt how his knees almost said to him; Let us rest!

He ordered an ale in the bar and took it and walked to the common room. He sat down in a chair in front of a fireplace. He almost sank down in the soft chair. He pulled up his hood again. In the dim light from the fireplace you could now barely see his face. He almost fell asleep as he sat in the comfortable armchair. Of all the inns I have been visiting there is no doubt that this is the best he thought and took up his pipe from his pocket. He lightened it and looked around in the common room. Many had went inside as it was late now, many of them were going to their rooms, but a few entered the common room. He hoped that he could talk to someone of them and maybe make a new friend.

.......May looked up to see avery tall, handsome looking being kneeling beside her in comfort. He had long, flowing golden hair, and large, generous blue/gray eyes. In the dark mist his brilliance seemed to be as a shining light to May. She assumed him to be an elf. He whispered to her, "What is wrong, m'lady? What have you lost?" May was astonished that a being of such grace and beauty would care for her woes.

She finally had the courage to speak to him."I.... I have lost my young sister, Esmeralda. I think someone has kidnapped her in the storm," He thought for a moment about this, than stod up and smiled at her.

"Then as a Lorien elf" he started, "I am Markaion, at your service m'lady." ....

[piosenniel]

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 crafting your Elven character’s appearance.

[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.

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

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)

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

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

_____________________________________________

Please Note:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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About Elves in the Shire:

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 crafting your Elven character’s appearance.