The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[piosenniel]

It is late evening in the Shire.

The lamps are lit in The Green Dragon; a cheery fire blazes on the hearth.

Supper is almost over - roast lamb, taters, garden fresh green peas with butter. Apple-Brown-Betty for dessert.

Plenty of ale, wine, tea, and cold, clear water from the Inn well for parched throats.

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~ Notice of New Game Opening ~*~*~*~

Witch_Queen invites you to come play in her new game: Ungoliant’s Children

The Discussion Thread is HERE, and will open on Monday, the 20th to take player submissions.

Read the proposal and get a character and post ready to submit to it – should be a fun game!

~*~ Pio, Game Moderator

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling listened in growing alarm to Toby’s frantic avoidance of what was troubling him. It was clear to him that the Halfling had fallen on hard times and that his presence at the Inn was not the casual circumstance that he was trying to make it to be. There was one thing about Tobias’s manner that confused Snaveling and that was the fellow’s odd attitude to Aman. He seemed pleased to see her, and yet strangely uncomfortable in her presence. Snaveling’s heart went out to the poor girl, for this was the second time this evening that an old friend had greeted her with reservation.

In an attempt to calm the old hobbit and give everyone time to think – including himself – Snaveling eagerly accepted the offer of pipeweed from Jinniver. Opening the pouch he was greeted with a particularly gracious smell that spoke of the gentle airs and careful tending of the Southfarthing. He could see Toby’s eyes light up and mist over at the scent, and Snaveling knew how badly his friend wanted to enjoy a smoke. They quickly filled their pipes, a business that prevented any further conversation for a minute or two. Snaveling offered to pay Jinniver for the weed, but she shook her head and somewhat grandly declined payment. “But I insist,” Snaveling pressed, withdrawing a pouch from his belt. “I am not used to taking things without paying for them” – and as he said this he managed to avoid the gazes of Aman and Toby – “nor do I have to. I have ample funds, and – to be frank – I rather suspect that you would be sorely pressed to give away such a store of your precious goods, my lady.” Opening the pouch, Snaveling revealed a tidy sum of gold and silver coins. Aman’s breath caught in her throat, and although he made no sound, Toby’s demeanor conveyed as clear as glass both his astonishment and his desire to share in Snaveling’s newfound wealth.

“Oh, well,” Jinniver began somewhat awkwardly, “You know, I don’t like to take money for a gift, but it is a rather costly pouch of pipeweed. Perhaps I would accept a token payment for it, just a bit above what I paid for it, mind, to cover travel expenses and the like.” Snaveling asked how much she thought would be fair, and handed over the amount immediately upon hearing it. That having been settled he placed the pouch back at his waist and turned to Aman. “Our friend may not be hungry, but I could use a bite of that delicious lamb. Perhaps you could bring me a plate?” And as he spoke he winked to Aman quickly, unnoticed by the Halfling who was still buried in the smoke of what looked to be his first pipe full of weed in days.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree

Cree could remember back in her younger days. Back then Fainu wasn't known as Fainu, he was Manstarmin. She figured he wondered how she knew what to call him. It took her a while to remember the times they would ride their horses and her friend Manstarmin went by the name Fainu. To her that was a nickname that he would never out live. He was always her release from the life she lived. Manstarmin was always there when Cree needed help with something. "Manstarmin, my old friend you have changed so much at heart that I am amazed that I even noticed you. My friend if there is one thing you should know that is that we have a connection that allows us to know each other." Her words were a mere whisper but she knew Fainu had heard her.

She looked up from her mug of ale and turned to where Avalon was. Without a word the crow jumped off the chair and down to the floor. Cree had felt sad about Fainu being hurt so bad that to her it affected his capability to ever love someone or even feel love. For her everything was different, though she had her heart broken many a'times she still didn't shut everyone out. Cree knew that wearing her heart on her sleeve was going to hurt her even more. Yet she was willing to take the chance. "Fainu, it seems that I have caught you at a bad time. Forgive me." Cree stood up and followed by Avalon went to a table where she could at least think. Before she sat down she looked at Fainu. Cree mouthed some words to Fainu in elvish meaning "My dear friend, it seems that our paths did cross again. But to me you have changed so much that deep down in your heart I do not sense the slight bit of love for anything. If you wish to continue our conversations you may join me when you remember our past together."

Cree found if funny that she could remember the past yet all Fainu could do was look at the future. She always had dwelt or lived in a dream world. A world where her father never had died and Manstarmin didn't leave her.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin took his cue from Andwise. There was a great deal of work to be done on the old cottage tomorrow . . . best he go to his quarters and get his rest. Gathering up his mug and dishes he made his way to the kitchen and deposited them on the drainboard. It was as he scraped what few bits he’d left on his plate into the slops bucket that he realized his mind was far too preoccupied with a problem . . . no, not a problem, a want it was . . . that had been niggling at the back of his mind all day. Sleep, he was sure, would allude him. ‘A walk will do,’ he thought to himself. ‘Set my thoughts in some order.’

He glanced about at the patrons left in the common room as he crossed from the kitchen to the main door. Only a few were still finishing up the last dribbles and drabbles of dessert. And they were being eyed by the servers, wanting only to clear away the plates and cups and hurry them to the kitchen to be washed. From their stances he could tell they were tired, wanting only the end of their work day and the comfort of a snug, warm bed. He winked at Buttercup as they passed each other, her tray piled high with empty platters and bowls heading to the kitchen.

The verandah was empty for the most part as he stepped out through the Inn door. A single Hobbit could be seen a way to his left, tapping out the last of his old pipeweed against the pillar of the overhanging porch, his foot sweeping it from the porch boards and into the flower beds below. Derufin nodded at him as he made his way down the steps.

It was a pleasant night with only the occasional cloud to hide the stars from view. Small breezes brought news of his whereabouts as he walked round the Inn toward the stable. The light perfume of the rock daphne planted about the foundation of the building mingled in interesting contrast with the scent of the midden heap near the kitchen. The deep scents of well turned earth from the garden crossed the sharp odor of the chicken coops. Aah . . . and now the familiar and welcoming scent of the stables . . . and the sounds . . . sweet hay in the loft, the heavy scents of horses, their hooves clopping as they moved in their stalls; their knickers and whinnies greeting him as he passed.

He drew near Falmar’s stall on his way to retrieve his cloak from his quarters. Her head was arched over the gate and she eyed him, motioning him closer with a toss of her head. As he approached she whickered softly, snorting loudly at the new horse next to her as the black usurper snaked his neck forth wanting some recognition of his presence. ‘Well, who’s this, my lady,’ Derufin asked. Falmar’s nose butted against the man’s neck in welcome, Derufin’s hand coming up in a familiar gesture to scratch her between the ears.

The new horse stretched forth his neck again, nostrils flaring as he chuffed at the man, taking in his scent. His shiny, black muzzle pushed firmly against Derufin’s shoulder, then, wanting some attention of his own. Derufin’s hand had barely come up to scratch the black’s forehead, when Falmar stamped her foot hard against the packed dirt of the stall. Quick as a striking snake her head darted toward the ‘intruder’, her great teeth giving him a painful nip on his ear. The black shied back in outrage and screamed a challenging rebuke at her. Falmar, for her part, flattened her ears and eyed him, daring the trespasser to make a move.

Derufin spoke low to both the horses, drawing their attention to him. Falmar he placed on a leather lead and took her from the stable, letting her run about in the nearby pen. ‘I’ll come for you in just a bit,’ he told her. ‘Let me see to the poor fellow’s ear. The owner will not be happy to have his horse roughed up and bleeding.’ Falmar snorted at this, stamping her hoof in irritation as Derufin returned to the stable. The black was wary of him and it took some time to be able to see to the ear. A small tear only. It would heal with a ragged scar, Derufin thought. But the hair would cover it. He cleaned it, applying a bit of pressure to the wound afterwards to stop the bleeding. Once done he stepped back to admire the animal. Seventeen or eighteen hands, he thought in quick estimation. Well muscled, though not bulkily so as a draft horse; sleek, rather. Intelligent demeanor, he noted, watching the slanted eyes of the stallion making their own assessment of the man. ‘I wonder who your owner is,’ Derufin thought as he stepped out of the stall, latching it securely behind him. He tossed an apple from the nearby basket to the horse and made his way back to Falmar. She shook her head at him, smelling the black’s scent on his hands as he reached for her. Speaking gently he drew her in, close enough to get his hands in her mane and mount up.

‘Come, my lady,’ he urged her, his heels tapping lightly against her flanks. She cleared the fence with ease and took off down the path to the main road.

‘Let’s clear both our heads with a ride,’ he said to her, leaning low over her neck as she sped away. ‘Things will look better when we’re both too tired to think about them.’

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"My dear friend, it seems that our paths did cross again. But to me you have changed so much that deep down in your heart I do not sense the slight bit of love for anything. If you wish to continue our conversations you may join me when you remember our past together."

Fáinu was trying to think of something encouraging to say. But nothing came to his mind, nothing but dark thoughts. When she had uttered his former name, he gave her a sharp look as if to say, "Do not speak that name."

At length he rose and walked out of the inn for some fresh air. He began to think back to when he and Cree were friends, however, he could not see any of it clearly. His whole past before the Dragon attacked was clouded. he looked at his burnt hand and sighed. Closing his eyes he thought back to his first meting with Cree, However, as he smiled to remember happier times, the images of the dragon blowing his fire came and he started as if awoken from a nightmare. even after opening his eyes, slight whispers he could hear in his mind, echoes of the curse of Smaug.

Eventually he walked back into the inn and ordered some water to drink, for he suddenly felt parched. He looked over at Cree who seemed to be feeding something to the bird that came with her. Soon he felt it rite that he spoke with her. he sat down at the other end of the table and so was facing her.

"Cree, you must realise," he said at last, "I thought all had forgotten me. When Smaug destroyed my old life, there was nothing left for me. Not even my family recognised me. I did not expect you to do so. You have to realise, many sorrows have befallen me, besides that that thou knows of. The only friend I have had has been Anganárí, my sword."

He saw that Cree was sorrowful at hearing this. However, he did not know of what to say.

"Do not be troubled, Cree," he said, "I remember, if vaguely, our time together. But until ether Mandos calls me or I am realised from the Dragon's curse, I fear, that ever I shall be joyful.”

[Lalwendë]

Jinniver was somewhat taken aback at Snaveling’s offer to pay for the pipeweed she had offered. She wondered where his home might have been as this was not usual behaviour to her. It was custom in Bree to be generous with pipeweed in company, and she had seen it also in the Shire folk. It caused no great expense, as someone else would share their own supplies sooner or later. It was simply a polite gesture, something to be done in company. But the man seemed determined and he made great show of opening a pouch to reveal a small fortune in gold and silver coins. Jinniver tried not to look startled to see the money but as a trader she could not help but notice it; she was well aware of the exact amount she had on her own person, and of how much she had spent during the evening as no amount of ale could temper that keen sense.

She remembered an old saying about fools and their money and decided to see what he would do if she asked for a sum a little over the odds. If he was trying to make show of his wealth then he would not turn her down as he would not want to lose face. She knew that it was said that those who came from long lines of noble houses were much more cautious with their money - this was how they had managed to keep it through so many generations.

He gave Jinniver the sum she asked for without question and she realised that here was a man who had not long come to his position in life. ‘Perhaps this explains the company he keeps’, she thought to herself. Reeling a little at the sudden small windfall, she began to think of what she was going to do with all the money she had made once she went back to Bree. Of course, most would go to help her father; she could take on another person to do his work, and he could have his well earned retirement. But at this rate she was going to be able to afford more than that. Her eyes drifted over to Snaveling, who had caught the attention of Aman once more, and she looked at the fine clothes he wore. ‘Maybe one day soon I really will be able to afford that soft cloak that I dream of ’. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to feel content.

Her eyes were opened again when a chair scraped and Derufin got up to leave. It was getting late, and she realised she ought to be going to bed soon, as tomorrow she had the flowerbeds to weed and hoe. And besides, what was the point in dreaming about fancy cloaks; she was going to put her money to work by using it to make more money, that was her plan. Hard work had been the saving of her since…no, she did not care to think about that either. She shook her head to jolt herself out of the thoughts that had almost begun to trouble her again. Noticing she had at least half a tankard of good ale left, she reached over and cradled it, sipping gently. Stifling a yawn with her hand, she resolved to go to bed when she had finished her ale.

[Boromir88]

Rorin Thundernose was a middle-aged dwarf, atleast according to his own people. He had spent most of his life serving Dain, King under the Mountain, fighting alongside his companions and with the Men of Dale. Now that the war is over, and evil again has perished, Rorin has long since wished to meet up with his old friend, Bundin. Rorin and Bundin had been pals for as long as he could remember. His long search had brought him to The Shire.

Bundin had always told Rorin he strongly disliked hobbits, so he doubted if he would learn anything about him here. He thought he would stop at the Inn, and see if he could discover anything, maybe Bundin travelled to The Shire to learn news, or for other purposes unknown.

Rorin walks into the inn and stands for a few seconds, at the entrance, gazing around the well-lit room. With him are two other dwarves, also, friends of Bundin. The travellers notice all eyes are upon them, but they disregard the sudden interest they have stirred. Rorin tells his companions he is going to the bar, to talk with the inkeeper, and that he will join them later. His friends find a vacant table, next to a small group of Hobbits from Michel Delving.

Rorin makes his way up towards the inkeeper. "Good evening," she says "could I interest you in any food or drinks, or perhaps a room for the night, you look tired." The inkeeper guessed right, for Rorin and his friends, had travelled a long road in search of Bundin, and they still had the trip home to go. "Aye, that would be grateful" he says. The inkeeper explains they are still serving supper, and she will have a room made up for him immediately. Rorin, sheepishly gestures, "May I ask, what is your name, fair lady?" "I am Aman, the inkeeper here at the Green Dragon, and your name is?" He answers, "Rorin, and those are my companions, Falin and Groin." "Falin and Groin," she says "Right, what could I get for the three of you?" Rorin looks towards the table his friends are at and sees they have already gotten ale. He answers "Lamb chops for me and my friends, please." "Lamb chops it is."

Rorin walks back towards the table to join his friends. He is slightly blushing, it appears he has forgotten all about his purpose in the Shire. He can't remember when he last saw a lady so fair.

[piosenniel]

Zimzi walked in the shadows, avoiding the paths and road to the Inn as often as she could. She did not care to have news of her ‘escape’ get back to Cook or to Amaranthas, with whom she was to spend the next few days until her family arrived.

They had talked flowers and the meanings of flowers all day long as Amaranthas had walked her through her gardens. The flowers for the bouquet had been discussed and agreed upon and they’d begun to sketch out the little pots of flowers that would grace the tables for the party at the Inn. Mistress Aman, directed Amaranthas, the elderly gardener, must have a special corsage for her generous offer of the Inn for the handfasting. As must Cook. And all the young lasses who’d come to offer their services for the week should have lovely wreaths to show off as they danced at the party.

It had been a long, long day tramping about the wildly blooming rockeries and numerous little plantings at the old Hobbit’s home just east of Bag End. Some of Samwise’s children, the girls to be exact, had come over to see what was going on. They followed the two women like little hummingbirds, quick and light upon their feet as they darted in and out to touch the soft petals of the flowers and drink in the sweet scents with their noses. Amaranthas’ had tsk’d at them, but the fond glimmer in her eyes as she watched them told her true feelings. And there had been cookies and fresh milk from the little nanny goat at the end of the garden walk-through as they knew there would.

Now night had fallen and all on the hill it seemed were settling in for the night. She waited patiently until the dear old Hobbit had gone to sleep. Only a little while longer and she would be at the Inn. Just a small walk, a few stolen moments with Derufin, she reminded herself, a touching on how each other’s day had been. It was a little habit they had formed to clear away the frustrations that life naturally threw in one’s way. From a distance she noted a horse galloping full out down the Great East Road, the rider bent low over his steed's neck. She could not see who it might be, but she drew further into the shadows nonetheless to avoid being seen.

Avoiding the Inn itself, she circled round it, making her way to the old cottage at the edge of the grounds. From what she could see in the dim light of the new moon the work was coming along nicely. And what’s this, she said aloud, coming to the neglected garden plots that had stood at the front of the cottage and round the great tree that stood in the yard. Someone had been poking about in them it seemed . . . some animal perhaps foraging for greens she concluded. With a smile she knelt down near the one beneath the tree – in her imagination she looked on the half-done cottage and grounds with an artist’s eye, imagining how it would look all done and the flowers that would be there some day, all in bloom. She picked up a handful of soil and held it to her nose. It was rich and sweet, full of the promise of new growth.

From there she made her way to the stable. There at the rear, were the windows that looked in on Derufin’s quarters. They were dark, and there was no sight or sound of him as she drew near and entered through the small door to his rooms. Not daring more time or the chance of being seen should she look for him elsewhere, she retraced her steps to the door and was about to exit when she recalled the small posy she had brought to show him how her day was spent. On the small table by his cot, near his lamp, she placed the flowers in the mug he kept there for water. A small wealth of yellow violets for happiness, and here and there, sprigs of fragrant rosemary, for remembrance.

As an after thought, she unclipped the small mother-of-pearl brooch she wore on her cloak and nestled it among the violets, then took her leave, making her way in haste back to Amaranthas’ house before she would be missed.

[Firefoot]

Lily roused herself out of deep thought and looked around. She wondered where Posco and Blanco were; she had not thought it would take Posco very long to find Blanco. She realized that she was quite hungry and that dinner wasn't going to be being served for very much longer. After inquiring as to whether Bingo and Marcho were hungry as well (they weren't, for they had eaten while she was ouside), she ordered a meal for herself from one of the passing hobbit maids.

Her meal came quickly, and she settled in for a delicious supper of roast lamb and taters. Marcho and Bingo were talking quietly on the other side of the table and she made no attempt to listen. She was a great deal more concerned about Posco's return. Confused and heartbroken as she was about his actions outside, she wanted him to return so she could talk to him. This waiting was agony, but it was the only choice she had... to wait.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree

"Fainu how can you say that? I have found that curses stay with a person for almost all their life. I know that all too personally. You think since you have this curse that you should allow it to shield you from your own feelings. Fainu you are not the only one that has changed. I have lived everyday with these "episodes". Believe me sometimes I don't even know if I will wake up." Cree knew her words were going strait to something but she didn't care.

She didn't let her curse get in her way of having feelings. She didn't see why anyone else would. She could feel the pain in her side worsen. She knew that it wouldn't be long before her curse ended it all. The only thing Cree wanted now more than anything was to have someone that atleast could return her love.

Her curse had already cost her so much. Even now Cree couldn't decide if the curse was indeed a gift. She didn't know anymore. Due to her curse she had lost the only thing that mattered, her own life. "Fainu, your scars are physical and only go skin deep. While mine are both physical and emotional. Do you know how it feels to have everyone blame you for the death of your father?" Cree paused to breathe and winced at the on growing pain in her side. "I guess you don't. I had to leave my home so that I could find out the truth about my life. Believe me when I say that when you're searching for life it makes it that much more lonely. It was only when I came here that I met a companion that has yet to abandon me." Cree motioned to the white crow beside her.

Well of course Avalon wouldn't abandon me. After all she was alone when she found me. We need each other and that is the way it is. No matter how many times I feel alone, Avalon will always be there when I am indeed alone. Cree tried to keep the pain in her side down to a minimum. Looking up through slanted eyes Cree noticed that Fainu was looking at her with what she thought was concern. Yet she ignored it, in the long run she knew he would leave her again to the solitary confinment of life. I don't need their pity. In the end I will not even need their charity. This curse is my own and no one elses.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Fáinu looked at her with concern and a sort of understanding. He shook his head and looked her in the eyes.

"I do not know how it feels to be blamed for my fathers death do I?" He almost smirked, but could not, "Many do. Often I heard 'They say Manstarmin was to blame for the death of his parents' in a way, it is true."

A shadow fell upon him then. as the memories came back again. He heard the laughter of Smaug in his mind and saw his mother's face being consumed in flame. Looking up he saw that Cree seemed impatient.

"Forgive me, Cree." He sighed, "You said you are cursed... I hath never head this. Or do you mean you are cursed with awful memories? Tell me what happened to you on that day, for I saw you not ever after it until today."

Cree was silent. He did not think she would tell him, he knew the hurt of that day, all too well. He closed his eyes and hung his head.

He opened his eyes to see Cree walking out of the inn. He leaped to his feet and dashed after her. Opening the inn door he saw her walking over a hill, he dashed up it. When he was half way up it he heard a horrid sound. Laughter. Smaug's laughter. He stopped and fell over backwards, he scrambled backwards. Then, over the hill he saw a flame creep up, followed by laughter again. Smaug's hideous rotten head came over the ridge, holding the bodies of his parents.

"Thou art next on my list!" Came the repulsive voice before he drew a deep inhale and then an immense ball of flame came towards him...

With a jump Fáinu opened his eyes and found that he was still in the inn. Cree was still sat opposite him and seemed to be thinking. She noticed that there was fear in his eyes, he breathed heavily as if with fright and a drop of sweat rolled down his face. He shook his head and tried to smile.

"Come," he said at last, "Or do you wish for my story first?"

[Witch_Queen]

"My story? You actually want to hear about my miserable life story." Cree looked at Fainu shocked to see that for once someone wanted to hear about her past. "Ok then. When I said cursed, I meant it. My memories are only a plague that I can't rid myself of." Cree went on to tell Fainu about the day she watched her own father die. "It was terrible. I was so young to witness death with my own eyes. He layed there bleeding and I couldn't stop it." Standing up Cree took her cloak off and showed Fainu the cut on her side. "The pain comes and goes as it wants to." She went on to tell how she left everything behind and didn't even want to stay in Eryn Lasgalen. Cree didn't even go to Rivendell for fear that someone may return her back to her home.

"Fainu, I arrived here in the Shire and meet a few people. One elf who was so kind to take me on his journey for "meaning". That didn't matter. I have episodes, some are where I "fall asleep". While others is where my side bleeds. Perhaps I did kill my father. After all since when did a cut that was never there begin to bleed?" Cree pressed her hand against her side. The pain was becoming too much for her. Cree figured that perhaps she had remembered too much of her past.

Her light blue shirt had fresh blood marks from where her side began to bother her again. "Perhaps no one will understand what I go through everyday not knowing whether this is my last day or not." She felt her heart stop for a moment. Then it skipped a beat. "Indeed Fainu we are both cursed. May the curseed be cursed together." Her words stuck in her mind. She knew now there was no turning back. She had already told Fainu what she dare not tell anyone else.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Thou art cursed with terrible memories and guilt," said Fáinu solemnly, "However, there is one thing I must ask." He leaned forward and held out his burned hand, the rotten bandage had blood stains on it. There was a pin holding it on that was gold and had the dwarven "D" rune on it.

He took off the pin and removed his bandage; Cree saw for the first time how deep the burn went. More than skin deep though Fáinu to himself, he wanted to say it, but thought it rude.

"Where were you on that day?" he asked looking into her eyes, "Perhaps my actions would have been different if you had been there." He thought back to that day. He had gone into Dale to see his Father, that morning he could not find Cree anywhere. And at noon, the Dragon came.

"Cree, my dear friend," he said, "I ask this only because it the only peace of the jigsaw I cannot fit." He looked deep into her eyes and saw sorrow. "You must realise how difficult it is for me now." He looked over at Adu, "Adu has Hama, you have your crow, and I have nothing. Nothing but old wounds that will never heal, a constant reminder of how I betrayed my family. Betrayed my friends, and betrayed myself. A friendless wanderer, cursed by a Dragon."

[piosenniel]

NOTICE OF MOVING TIME FORWARD IN THE INN

On Wednesday (day after tomorrow) I'd like to move the time forward to the next day.

So, please get your posts and exchanges between characters done that you need to by then.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Witch_Queen]

So perhaps I am to blame for what has happened to Fainu. Cree felt her heart sink deeper in her chest. "Fainu I only left to prevent anyone else from being hurt. I did go looking for you, yet your father said you was gone." Cree didn't know what to do anymore. Everyone she had ever cared about, she ended up hurting in the long run. Now what? She looked around and noticed that Adu had Hama and indeed it appeared that Cree had Avalon. Something to her didn't seem right. "Fainu the only reason I have Avalon is because she reminds me of you and my father. I see in her what I had for the longest time seen in you. I would have given my own life to be there with you."

Cree didn't know what else she should tell Fainu. She reached in her pack and pulled out a necklace. The necklace was just a simple peace of lace. In the center was a red gem. The light hit the gem and made it sparkle. "Fainu, do you remember this? You gave it to me so long ago that it seems like a distant memory. I told you it would never leave my neck, yet I only removed it to hide my identity." Cree looked at Fainu who seemed to be far away from her. "Perhaps now you have found the last piece to your puzzle?"

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Perhaps now you have found the last piece to your puzzle?"

Fáinu looked up at her and tried to smile. He knew that jewel; he had found it in Moria in 1690 III, when he was but 170 years old. He had given it to Cree on her birthday. Although to Elves, birthdays are seldom celebrated. Some how he had thought it pleasant to give a gift to a dear friend, he had always heard tell from his brother of the custom of the Hobbits who gave gifts on birthdays.

"The puzzle?" he said after a pause, "I know not. The puzzle of life is never complete till the end of days. However, my understanding of that black day is now complete. I don't suppose you know of what happened to me in full... Only Elrond and Adu know, I have told no one else."

He then went on to tell her what Smaug said, and how he was cursed. When he told her that he had leaped into the water only to see his parents being consumed in flame, Cree looked shocked, to her, she had only heard that he had fallen in the fight, but Elrond had told her of Manstarmin's survival, and of his new name, Fáinu.

"Now do you understand, Cree?" he said sadly, "Even a normal Dragon wound would have healed by now, his curse has held so far. I do not doubt that more he would have cursed me with if my father had not speared him in the face. That perhaps was luck... in a way." he paused and Cree saw in his eyes that he seemed to be looking far off.

"Perhaps he did curse me," he continued "to be ever cast out, for that is all that I have known since that day. The elves of Mirkwood cast me out, they did not believe that I fought in the battle against Smaug, and that I had dwelt among them. They called me a liar and an Orc friend.

“My Brothers cast me out, they were jealous of the renown I gained after sleying many goblins and saving their lives. Ellodan and Elrohir cared little for me, they did not know me like their father did. They were friends of Manstarmin, but not of Fáinu, they distrusted me.

"Some times, I dream that I am destroyed by flame, and then I wake up, and the pain of my hand grows, and I wish I was in Mandos. Surly there is healing in Aman, there all hurt can be cleansed... Some how, those words do not bode for me."

[Witch_Queen]

"Fainu if I was to loose you again I don't believe anything could save me then. Part of my curse is one I brought about on myself. Indeed I do feel guilty for the death of my father. Yet there was nothing I could do to save him. His spirit had already left his body and all that remained was an empty shell. One who tries often fails many times. I know this for a fact." She looked up at her friend. To her the feelings she had for him didn't die when Manstarmin died. She would always love the elf she grew up with. He was her young love and nothing or no one was going to change that for her. Cree looked down at her empty mug. She hadn't even noticed that the bottom was bone dry and there was nothing else contained in the mug. For some reason she felt that at her search for life it had only began like the mug itself. She was empty to all feelings and she knew it was her own doings. "Fainu, I never forgot you and I never will. To me you are the closess thing I have now to my past life. You tell me of how it feels to be unwanted and unloved. Yet can you not remember long ago. You had pledged your life to me and I had done the same to you. We had promised that the feelings we had between each other would never die 'less one was to find their escape from middle earth."

Cree didn't want her friendship to ever end with Fainu. She thought of him as the final half of her soul. She needed him to be with her and didn't want him to abandon her or die any time soon. If it came to it, Cree would take him to Aman and get his curse. Cree only wanted his and her own pain to go away. She missed the joy that she had in her life at one point. She missed the walks under the moon and stars. She even missed the parties they would go to. Cree missed so much and knew there was only one hope of bringing it back. "Fainu, lets go to Aman and get rid of this curse. I don't want to live my life in fear and I know you don't want to live your whole life not knowing when the final stroke of the curse will fall. It is all up to you Fainu, leave in a few days and get rid of this curse or live the rest of what life you have left in the shadows."

Cree knew she didn't need to put someone in that type of situation. She only felt it right to actually do something in her life. "If the wrong person does something right it is considered wrong, yet if the right person does something wrong it is considered right. Fainu I think it is time that we actually do something about our life. If anything fails we can always come back to the Shire and then go back to Eryn Lasgalen or Rivendell. Take your pick." Cree was no longer sure of what she was saying. She for once believed that she had drunk too much ale. "Forgive me my friend, it seems that my own mouth has ran away with myself." Cree blushed in embarrasement but also in frustration. She had never known herself to ramble like that before.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"I wish I could go to Aman," said Fáinu, "Cree, you must know, that my fate is sealed, There is, perhaps, one thing that have to do before I leave Middle Earth for ever." He put the bandage back on and fixed it with the pin. he saw that Cree was sad, he had always regretted leaving her.

"Cree, I know that thou art angry that I left you.,” he said leaning forward, "You see, I had to. No one knew me! Even Elrond had to look deep into my heart to see who I was. Although our bond was strong, I did not know if it was strong enough to weather the curse of Smaug. I knew that If I ever saw you, I would have to tell you that Manstarmin was dead, for to the rest of the world, he is. I did not, still do not, wish to bring you to any harm that may come of my fate."

He saw that a tear rolled down her cheek, he took from his pocket his handkerchief and handed it to her. He knew how hard it was for the both of them to remember the terrible events in their lives. He asked the bar maid for some more drinks. They came swiftly and Fáinu drank to clear his throat.

"Do not weep, Cree," he said as she wiped the tear from her cheek, "If you wish to go with me, I will not stop you. Rivendel seems not to be a place of refuge. Not since Elrond departed did it seem joyful. Eryn Lasgalen holds too many memories of my awful fate. i have considered travelling to the far north, for there, I may find use, Dwaline the dwarf asked for my sword in battle, for there is a lot of it there near the grey mountains. Goblins and others of a less than savoury nature."

He smiled at her, for now, he seemed to remember some of the times they had spent together, and he wished he could go back to that time, but knew he could not. Every time he savoured a fond memory, a flame would consume it, and a malice filled laughter would block out all other sound.

[Witch_Queen]

I would follow him anywheres even to death. Yet even now I find it hard to let him go off to what I know will be sudden death. Cree couldn't tell herself that she hated him for what he did. Yet she couldn't even tell herself that it was going to end well. Since when did she actually have the mind to tell herself that she didnt' know what she wanted. "Fainu, please don't go away. I have a bad feeling that you fighting will only bring you a quicker and more painful death." Cree noticed that she no longer had any tears to shed. After all she didn't shed them for Fainu, it was for her friend Manstarmin.

Deep down inside Cree didn't know what she wanted anymore. "Fainu don't go away again. Please just stay here with me. Perhaps we can go up north. Still not now. I fear for the sake of your own soul." To her that was the breaking point. She couldn't stand it anymore. Standing up suddenly Cree ran out of the inn and headed to the stables. She knew the horse she acquired on her journeys would be there. Walking over to her horse with tears rolling down her cheek, Cree tried to hide herself in the stables with her horse. She thought she heard someone, "Go away!" Looking up she saw the only face that ever brought her comfort.

"Well, if you wish it so." With a blow of the wind her father was gone. The figure she thought was her father was instead Fainu. Still not recognizing that it was him, Cree ran over to "her father". To her she didn't want to loose him again. She felt a hand on her cheek. Looking up she realized that instead it was Fainu.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

As Cree had sun out of the inn he remembered the vision he had had just a few minuets ago. Reluctantly he went to the door of the inn, to his relief, she was near the stables rather than going over the hill.

As she ran to him, he suddenly felt a deep foreboding fall upon him. All seemed to go quiet, he could not even hear if she was talking to him. Birds sang in the trees and he did not hear them. It passed. He looked at Cree and felt pity.

"I do not wish to leave you," he said, and with truth, "I am not ready to leave. I shall not go anywhere for at least a month."

Avalon rested upon the top of the inn and crowed. She sensed that Cree was unhappy, and now distrusted Fáinu. But still, Fáinu did not wish to lead Cree to harm, he knew that if she followed him, she would surly perish, he knew what dwelt in the north, not only Orcs and Trolls. He stepped back and placed both hands on her shoulders.

"I will not leave you by choose," he said, "I cannot see any hope for myself, only darkness. I do not think that my future will be present; I fear it will be filled with torture, torment, anguish, and flame. If you wish to be by my side through all of that, then I shall stick by thee to whatever end. Even if the end of days comes and the world is crashing about us, still I shall be by you. Do you wish for such a fate?"

He saw that tears were rolling down Cree's face; he did not know what to say to her. All of a sudden the pain of his wound began to hurt again. He pulled his hand back like one who spills hot water on their hand. The pain passed, and he thought it very curious. He looked up at Cree and saw that she was looking in curiosity at his hand, why had it begun to hurt now? None knew. Perhaps, it was the memory of the day, and the fact that Cree was the first one he thought of after it happened.

Soon he felt that he needed to rest and spend some time to think about all that had happened. He took Cree's hand and held it firmly.

"Think on all I have told you," he said, "Elrond told me that I will face peril and torment before the end. Although I do not wish to put you in harm's way, I fear that I am destined to put to hurt, all whom are dear to me." He turned and went in to the inn. He went down the road to a small cottage, it was owned by Dwaline, and he had leave to use it. He went swiftly to sleep and had troubled dreams.

[Boromir88]

Rorin rejoined his companions, Falin and Groin, and they begin discussing what took place. "Did you find out anything about Bundin?" Falin asked Rorin. Like a bolt of lightning, it strikes Rorin, he completely forgot about Bundin. Rorin, sort of in a stammer, "It slipped my mind. I never looked upon a lady so fair before. I must of forgotten to ask."

They continued on with the conversation, until Ruby Brown had finally served their dinner. "Excuse me my lady, but do you know anything, or anyone, who would know about a companion of ours, Bundin?" questioned Groin. Ruby answered, "Bundin, no, I never heard of that name before, but you might want to ask the innkeeper, Aman, or maybe the Mayor, Master Gamgee, could be of some help. Can I get you anything else?" "No thankyou," replied Groin "that will be all."

Rorin proposed "Tomorrow, I can ask Aman, and maybe you two can go talk to the Mayor." Falin joked "Considering the circumstances, I think it would be better if myself or Groin asked the innkeeper." Rorin blushed, and that was the last thing said about Bundin, for the remainder of the night.

[Primrose Bolger]

‘What a long day it’s been,’ thought Ginger as she dragged herself up the back kitchen stairs to the little rooms above. She untied the ribbon that held back her curls, letting them fall forward to frame her brow and cheeks. Her arms and shoulders ached from the unfamiliar task of carrying trays loaded with food and drink and her legs were a bit sore from the running up and down the steps from the common room to help with the cleaning of the dusty attic rooms for the expected guests.

Buttercup and Ruby were still in the kitchen washing and drying the last of the dishes; heads together as they reviewed the tidbits of gossip they’d picked up that day. Cook had cleared the kitchen’s big table and set out the bowls, pans, oil, yeast, and flour she’d be needing for her early morning baking. A clean dishtowel had been thrown over it all and served as a signal that no one was to move what she’d put there. From her vantage point on the stairs, she could just hear Cook saying goodnight to the two other girls and then the firm closing of her door off the kitchen as Miz Bunce settled in for the night.

‘Bright and early, my dear,’ she recalled Cook telling her, just before she’d hustled Ginger out of the kitchen and up to her rest. ‘The sugar and cinnamon buns will be cool enough then for you to ice them. Oh, and make sure you’ve brushed off your blue skirt and pin on a clean apron before you come down. We’ll want you looking nice tomorrow.’

Once in her room, she hurried out of her clothes, draping them neatly over the backs of two ladderback chairs. A light cotton shift replaced them for the night, and she managed a few swipes at her skirt with the clothes brush before declaring her arm just too tired to do any more. ‘It’ll have to do,’ she said, a light guilty flush creeping into her cheeks. Two or three swipes with a wet washcloth did for her nightly washing-up, And with a grateful sigh, she climbed into the covers of her little cot, pulling the quilt up snugly about her shoulders. A few restless twitches as her aching muscles relaxed under the weight of the blankets, then sleep claimed her.

[piosenniel]

NOTICE OF MOVING TIME FORWARD IN THE INN

On Wednesday (tomorrow) I'd like to move the time forward to the next day.

So, please get your posts and exchanges between characters done that you need to by then.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Firefoot]

Lily looked up hopefully when she heard the sound of the Inn's door opening. Sure enough, there were Posco and Blanco. The twins spotted them and made there way over to the table. Lily fought hard to keep her conflicting emotions off her face, and she would have succeeded but for the confused pleading in her eyes. Help me understand, she willed. Your actions seem to conflict in meaning with each other... She realized that Marcho and Blanco had risen from their seats.

"We need to be getting back to your aunt's house," said Marcho. "It's getting later." Lily sighed and rose, saying, "Will you be travelling back to Buckland tomorrow? Or are you staying for a little longer? I will be around... if you decide to stay, that is..." she trailed off.

"I have not decided yet," said Marcho. Was that a touch of sympathy in his expression?

"Well, perhaps I will see you all tomorrow then," said Lily. "If not, then I guess this is good-bye." She tried to swallow the lump that was rising in her throat. It wasn't fair. Now she might never get her chance. She just needed more time.

They said their farewells, Posco polite and shy as ever and Blanco his usual gallant self. Blanco called across the room to Peony, "Come, Peony, we are leaving!" She and Hal got up from their table in the corner to join them.

"It was nice meeting you, Peony, Hal," said Lily.

"And you," replied Peony smiling. "Good night." With that the small party began to make their way back towards the door. On impulse, Lily snagged Posco's sleeve as he was walking away.

"Posco, if you leave tomorrow, I will miss you," she said softly. She wondered if he had noticed the tears that were starting to well up in her eyes. She thought that he looked slightly bewildered, though she could see no cause for it. At last he nodded. "Good night, Lily." He turned and hurried to catch up with the others, who had mostly disappeared through the door.

When they had gone, Lily turned toward the stairs, having nothing else to do but return to her own room. Her own words echoed in her head. I guess this is good-bye. She vowed to herself it would not be the last good-bye. Whether they came back or left tomorrow, it wouldn't be.

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~ Notice of New Game Opening ~*~*~*~

Witch_Queen invites you to come play in her new game: Ungoliant’s Children

The Discussion Thread, HERE, is now open to take on players.

Come join! Should be a fun game!

~*~ Pio, Game Moderator

[mark12_30]

Bolco slipped inside the Inn, ordered a glass of wine, and sat in a corner. The wine arrived, and he quietly raised it, and whispered, "Happy Birthday, Mr. Frodo. And ... to your mad old uncle, too."

He sat and slowly savored the wine. He watched the proceedings in the inn with interest, but there was a faraway light in his eye, and his thoughts were elsewhere.

[piosenniel]

Please note CHANGE OF TIME:

It is now early morning - night has passed. Sleepy patrons of the Inn are wandering down to the Common Room, looking for their favorite beverage and a plate of breakfast.

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Fáinu walked into the inn after a long night of unpleasent dreams. His face was grim and his clothes were creased and his eyes were bloodshot. The floor was hard under his feet as he slumpped in a corner and ordered a drink to help wake him up. nether Cree or Adu were anywhere in sight.

Dost thou not see? Thou hast been reected and forgoten once again.

his thought was telling him all the negative things. he tried to re asure himself, thinking perhaps that Cree and Adu had gone t lodgings for the night and moved on to places where they were happier.

[Lalwendë]

The cool morning air came through the open window in gentle breaths, lifting the cotton curtains. Birds sang in the trees and a little cat, out for some early hunting, sat by and watched, too sleepy yet to do much more than twitch his tail at them. Outside the world was waking up but in her bed chamber Jinniver still slept soundly. The patchwork counterpane was tucked tightly around her and in her arms she clutched a pillow.

Jinniver’s clothes lay in a messy pile on the floor where she had climbed out of them last night, too tired to delay getting to bed any longer than necessary. One boot was at the foot of the bed, and the other under the window, where she had balanced on one leg while trying to undo her laces and open the window at the same time. She had felt stifled by the heat which came up through the floorboards and had felt that if the window wasn’t left open it would be too hot to sleep. Sometime during the night, she had begun to feel cold, but rather than get up and close the window she had simply rolled herself snugly into the counterpane.

Her hair had been loosened and it lay in a tangled chestnut heap about her head, and her eyes twitched a little as she dreamed. Into her dreams came a picture of men riding horses, shouting as they galloped. The land they rode through was empty and windswept, but they drew close to a hill, to the hill at Bree, and the land became green and fresh. Night fell in her dreams and she felt she was riding with the men, breathless and panicky as they hurried on towards her own farm. She saw her niece standing by the roadside, and her father ran out shouting in desperation as one of the men reached out and took hold of the girl’s arm without slackening his pace. “No!” she shouted, and found she had no weapons, nothing to stop this from happening. “No!”

Jinniver choked as she shouted and her eyes opened, their pale blue colour tinged with a little redness. She rolled over and blinked, realising she was in her room at the inn, and that she had dreamed again.

[Firefoot]

When Lily finally woke up after a long, restless night she was half tempted to try and fall back asleep. She was still tired, and she had no desire to go down and face the world. She thought of home again, and immediately banished the idea of returning so soon. She might not ever leave Bree again, and she wanted to make the most of her stay in the Shire. With that in mind she yawned, rolled over, and got up.

She did not pay attention to how she dressed; she put on the same dress that she had changed into the previous night because it was still clean and only combed her hair rather than pull it back. Yawning once more she wandered downstairs to the common room.

Lily was not particularly hungry, but she ordered a plate of breakfast anyway. She did not know anyone in the common room, and feeling rather lonely she decided to simply sit at a table by herself. She tried to eat, but she was unable to make herself swallow more than a few bitefuls. Finally, she set down her fork and pushed back her plate. She sat there contemplating the day - what she would do if Posco did come back... or if he didn't. If the latter was so, Lily reckoned she would be moving on. Maybe even back home. Lily decided she did not like this feeling of hopelessness. What she didn't know was how to stop it...

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The smell of fresh hay and sunshine awoke Snaveling like an old friend, and for a moment he lay in the stable wondering where his rich clothes had come from. It was as though time had gone backward and he was once more the bedraggled wanderer, unable to afford a room and forced to sleep with the horses and do small chores to earn his keep. He rolled onto his back and looked up through the dancing motes that shone in the shafts of light that came through the chinks in the stable wall. The press of hay beneath him was a welcome relief from the beds he had slept in for so many months. He spoke to the empty air, “A bed is all right for sleeping, but for a really good night’s rest, only a nice pile of fresh hay can satisfy.” He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes.

Toby’s snoring brought him back to reality. Rolling onto one elbow he looked at where his friend lay, and once more was struck by the profound ironies of their situation. The last time they had shared this stall, Snaveling had been the threadbare beggar on the run from his past and Toby is odd rescuer. Now, it would appear, the situation was exactly reversed! The old hobbit had remained close lipped about his troubles last night, but he had let enough slip that Snaveling knew something was terribly wrong, and that his friend was on the run. The Halfling’s manner with Aman, odd as it was, clearly bespoke his desire to fade into obscurity and anonymity. Snaveling knew the agony of such an existence and was determined that if there were anything he could do to save his friend from such a fate, he would. If money were a problem, then he could help his friend for sure, for the King had been generous to Snaveling, giving to him what wealth and status remained in Gondor that had belonged by rights to the Kings of Numenór. It all amounted to a sum much less than many of the richest landholders and merchants in Gondor held, but it was a fortune beyond the reckoning of most. From what he knew of such matters, Snaveling was sure that by Shire standards he would be considered wealthy beyond all belief.

He winced slightly at the memory of his blunder last night with Jinniver. He was not used to money, or to paying for things, and there were times when his naïveté with such matters were painfully clear. He was afraid that his insistence upon paying for the pipeweed had been such an occurrence. He would have to find a way to make it up to Jinniver, that is what King Elessar would want…on the other hand, if she were so foolish as to take money and then offence for having it offered her, then why should he bother? Snaveling felt his eyes harden and narrow, but he shook away the expression, reminding himself that his old way of life was now over. He was a new man, and fit to act like one.

Stirring from his bed so as not to wake his friend, he stole from the stall. He smiled at the memory of Aman’s face when she had offered him a room and he had insisted on sleeping in his old quarters instead. “They feel more like home to me than anywhere else in Middle-Earth” he had explained, and it had been enough. She had understood instantly. He greatly loved that capacity she had; of all the people he had met since he came in from the wild, she was the one who seemed most capable of understanding. Her and Roa…but the comparison brought him up short. They both understood him, but where Aman’s understanding felt like forgiveness, the understanding of the Ranger woman was of a more stern nature. It was as though Aman did not mind that he could not live up to the standard set for him by Roa. Strange that he should feel the way he did then…but there was nothing he could do to change that.

He went first to check in with his mount. The great black stallion was housed very well, and had already been thoroughly brushed, fed and watered. His stall was filled with fresh hay and the doors of the stable had been thrown wide open to give the animal a bright wash of fresh air to bathe in. Whatever else Snaveling might think of the stablemaster Derufin, he was good at his trade and careful in the fulfilment of his duties. Snaveling stroked the horse’s mane and nickered at him silently. He passed his hands over the horse’s neck and shoulders, moving them down the sides and then up again to the high, powerful haunches, simply for the pleasure of feeling the life and strength of the creature. He was indeed a wonderful horse, one of the finest ever to come from the westfold. He had been a gift to the King by a nobleman of Rohan, and the King Elessar had given him to Snaveling. Every time the man beheld the horse he was moved by the beauty and grace of the being. It was indeed a royal horse, and a mighty gift…

Leaving the stables and passing through the Inn’s garden door he went into the kitchen and found it in its usual state of morning chaos. Cook and her helpers were hard at it making the piles of food demanded by the patrons. He was given sour looks by most of the kitchen’s occupants, for he was a pair of hands that seemed not to be wanting to help. Snaveling quickly ducked his head and slid from the room, as he had come in search of the Innkeeper, not breakfast. He tried the Common Room next but once more it was blank of the person he sought. Finally, he tried knocking on the door of Aman’s private room but there was no answer. It was as he heard the empty echo of his knock coming back to him that he suddenly remembered where she would be. With a slight smile on his face, Snaveling sprang up the stairs, and made for the high roofbeams of the Green Dragon Inn.

[starkat]

Gwenneth woke slowly after having fallen asleep whil reading last night. She too a few moments to rebraid her hair and after changing in to clean clothes, the young elf maid followed the smell of breakfast wafting up from below.

Fiddling with the jewel she wore around her neck, Gwenneth order a light breakfast. She took a seat at an empty table and watched the other patrons as they came down for the start of a new day.

[Witch_Queen]

She walked down the stairs looking around her to see if she could find any of her friends. Coming to a corner across the room, Cree saw Fainu setting all alone. She slowly walked over as if not to startle him. So he didn't leave. She placed her hand on his shoulder before taking her seat. "Its good to see you again, Fainu did you sleep well?" She noticed that it seemed as if he was still asleep. Looking closer she noticed that he had already been drinking ale without her.

She walked up to the counter and grab a mug of ale to make sure she was awake. "Fainu.. are you home?" She shook him and realized something didn't seem right.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Fáinu looked up sharply, then he saw that it was Cree and he smiled. He shook the weariness from his head and opened his eyes as he could.

"I have not slept well for a long time," he said, "Save a few time when much ale has been drunk." he smiled as he jested. Cree smiled back and Fainu asked her if she wished for a drink. She nodded and he went to the bar for two, as he had finished his own.

He came back to the table and passed a medium sized wooden mug to Cree. It had a small green dragon carved into one of the sides and was considered by the Hobbits to be good craftsmanship.

"Dist thou sleep well?" asked Fáinu remembering his manners, "and is Hobbit hospitality as well to do as the tales tell?"

He sipped his drink almost as if he had forgotten all that had happened the previous day, almost as if he was back in mirkwood when they would sit together and talk as old friends.

[Envinyatar]

‘What a fool I’ve been! Here the sun’s come up and I’ve not had a wink of sleep.’ Falmar had snorted at this statement, shaking her head as if to agree with her rider’s assessment of himself.

Derufin had ridden all night. And ‘Falmar his willing accomplice. The grey horse had been glad to go tearing down the lanes and across empty fields, mane and tail streaming back in the wind of her own passing. Aimless at first, they headed east on The Great Road, then circled round until they had come near the little path that went up toward the old Hobbit’s house where Zimzi had gone to stay. But it had been dark, no lights within when he’d crept up to little windows at the rear. He hesitated to knock on them, not knowing which room was the old Hobbit’s and which was his Zimzi’s. Instead, he’d turned his mount away and let her have her head.

Now morning had come and Famar had found her tired way back to the Inn. Derufin had toweled and brushed her, then left her with clean water and a rick of sweet hay with alfalfa. Tired himself, he’d gone straight to his room, intending to throw himself on his bed for a few moments’ rest. Someone had put a small bouquet on the table by his bed. He picked up his waterglass, now vase, and brought the fragrant blossoms to his face. The sharper husky-sweet scent of rosemary tickled his nose. He sneezed, shaking the posy a bit as he did so, and something fell from it onto his cot. His fingers turned over the little piece of jewelry, feeling the smooth and rough surface slide between them. Mother of pearl! Zimzi’s brooch! She’d been here and he’d missed her!

A laugh welled up and burst out into the room. They must have passed each other at some point, each intent on their own little self-set task. With a continued chuckle, Derufin plucked a sprig of the flowering rosemary from the posy and tucked it into the top button hole of his leather vest. A little of the weariness had left him at the thought of dear heart having come to see him. He popped the brooch into his vest pocket with a smile.

And with a somewhat lighter step, he made his way to the Inn to break his fast with Cook’s good food and many cups of strong sweet tea to fortify himself for the day.

[Arry]

Andwise nodded his head at Derufin as he entered the common room. The man sat with a heaping plate of eggs, fried ham, and thick slices of toast slathered with butter and jam. He ate with a certain gusto, pausing now and then to take great gulps from his mug of steaming tea. The Hobbit smiled a bit at the picture as he approached the table where Derufin sat. Derufin, his mouth full of toast, pushed out a chair for the Hobbit with his foot and gave a brief nod of his own toward it.

‘You know, you keep tucking into your food like that and the lads will have you entered in the pie-eating contest at the Spring Faire!’ He looked beneath the table at Derufin’s boots and tapped them lightly with his toe. ‘Boots still, eh?’ He grinned widely at the man who bore a perplexed look on his face. ‘The day I find you with bare feet, I’ll know for sure you’ve turned into a giant Hobbit!’

Derufin put down his fork and laughed at the gentle joke. He waved then at someone across the room, motioning them to come over. Andwise turned to see who their companion might be. It was Ferdy, heading for the kitchen as his father had instructed; his tool box gripped in one hand, banged now and then against his knee. ‘The lad’ll not be joining us for breakfast,’ Andwise said to Derufin, who frowned as Ferdy waved back, but then disappeared through the kitchen’s door. ‘Mistress Bunce has plans for him this morning,’ the Hobbit went on.

‘That cabinet,’ returned Derufin. ‘Ferdy said something about it needing fixed.’ The man drummed his fingers lightly on the tabletop. ‘Though for the life of me, I can’t recall it being broken. I’m sure I would have noticed it.’

Andwise gave the man a half-smile and raised his brow slightly. ‘Cook’s plans go beyond a broken cabinet today,’ he said cryptically.

Buttercup had drawn near, wanting to see what the Hobbit would like. He could see her pretended nonchalance at overhearing the conversation and he gave a wink to Derufin. ‘Nowt for me, Buttercup,’ he said, sending her on her way. ‘I’ve had my breakfast already at home. Just come to pick up Derufin here. Got things to talk over . . . concerning the cottage and such . . .’ Buttercup nodded, giving a little sniff of disapproval at being sent off without hearing the particulars.

The Hobbit accepted a cup of tea from Derufin’s pot and drank it slowly as the man finished up his meal. The two then left the Inn making their way toward the cottage, waving as they exited to Buttercup. They walked along in comfortable silence, enjoying the fresh sights and sounds of the new day.

‘Partial to rosemary, are you,’ asked Andwise, noting that every so often the man’s hand strayed to the small sprig in his button hole. His face softened at a forgotten image and he spoke low. ‘My dear wife used to put rosemary in bottles of oil. She’d use a little each day to tame her flyaway curls. Even now I can remember the scent of it as she nestled against me . . .’

Andwise looked into the distance for a brief moment and took a deep breath. Then, gathering his thoughts about him again, he kept silent for the short way left to the cottage.

[Lalwendë]

Dressed in her crumpled clothes with her hair carelessly knotted back, Jinniver slowly walked across to the stables. Her head hurt and she felt grumpy, and she thought the sharp shock of the cool morning air would do her some good. She needed to see to her horse and let him out into the paddock for some exercise, but more than this, she needed to get out of the inn for a few minutes as the air indoors was still heavy with the smell of ale and pipeweed and she’d had more than her fill of these things last night.

She spent some time grooming her old cart horse, Nutkin, and muttered to him as she brushed his coat. The horse responded by nudging her affectionately, which helped to elevate her poor spirits. By the time she took him out to the paddock her only ailment was the sore head.

Jinniver’s spirits had picked up but soon she began to feel guilty as she thought of her behaviour the night before. She had been impolite in taking the money from Snaveling. The ale was to blame, she knew, but it had been her who had drunk it and this was no excuse. She frowned with frustration as she thought of what she had done. She wished she knew some way of leaving Snaveling the money he had given her for the pipeweed, but she did not want to face him, and she did not know which was his horse or which was his room, or she would have surreptitiously placed the money in the saddle bags or under his door. She stood and bit her lip anxiously, a little afraid of going back inside the inn; if he was in the common room then she would feel ashamed, and she did not want to return the money directly to him.

As she stood there agonising, Jinniver noticed Andwise and Derufin leaving the inn, about to start work, and she realised that she ought to be thinking of getting some breakfast before starting work. She headed back towards the inn, and the thought of work helped clear her mind. She decided to leave the money with a note of apology for Mr Snaveling; she could leave it on the bar where one of the staff would pick it up and pass it on to him.

“And while I’m about that task,” she thought, “I will write to my niece and make sure she knows to keep herself out of mischief.” The memory of the dream was also troubling her.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger rubbed her eyes sleepily as cook took the last pan of iced sugar buns from her and put them on the sideboard to be scooped out onto platters and passed round for second breakfast along with wedges of apple and creamy yellow cheese. ‘You’ve done a good job here, lass. Now take this mug of tea and a bun for yourself and go out to the garden for the rest of the morning.’ Ginger yawned widely, having gotten up early to help with the baking, and shook her head ‘yes’ at the directions.

A mug of tea sweetened with honey and lightened with cream and two buns bursting with fat raisins accompanied her out the back door. She could not help but hear the sound of a familiar voice as she stepped out onto the little landing. Ferdy, it was! Just as Cook had promised. She crossed her first two fingers as best she could between the handle of the mug and the mug itself, and screwed her eyes shut tight for a moment, making a quick wish that all would go well. A loud Ahem from Cook urged her off the landing and through the dusty back yard toward the garden.

An upturned bushel basket served for a seat as she sat down to have her snack before starting work. The bees she noted as she surveyed the garden were already hard at work. They poked their furry little noses deep into the flowering vines and bushes, dragging their fat, yellowed legs from blossom to blossom as drank deep of the nectar. And they hummed all the while, making her smile as she wondered if it were some sort of happy song they’d all learned together as children. Humming herself, her drink finished and the major part of both buns, she licked her fingers clean of the sticky frosting and went to see about the potato mound at the north end of the plot. Cook had been very particular about her heaping up the mounds of straw just so, for the taters to grow in and be plucked out easily. And after that would come the weeding and spading of the little herb plants, followed by the never-ending picking of the beans. And then lunch! Her mind working over the possibilities for that meal, Ginger began taking up great handfuls of straw from the nearby pile to work in about the tater plants.

Her cup and the morsel of bun she’d left by the basket were being worked over themselves. The ants had made a quick march to lap up the sweet sticky fluid in the bottom of the mug, with some of the more enterprising and stronger carrying off bits of the bun back home . . .

[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, the Stablemaster (played by Envinyatar)

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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.