The Green Dragon Inn - Part 4

[Nerindel]

Léspheria could hear muffled voices calling her name, but the pain and the screaming in her head all but drowned them out. She fought to push back the torrent of emotions that flooded into her mind so she could open her eyes.

Suddenly Léspheria's eyes snapped open, Lóthaniel she gasped, her eyes wide with fear. The searing pain in her side remained and was now accompanied by a burning sensation across her back, she clutched at her side as the voices became distinguishable, she was in the inn.

She looked up to see Vanwe's concerned face gazing down on her, she could also feel that she was being supported by someone else, she looked round and was surprised to see Kaldir searching for the source of her pain.

"You won't find anything" she whispered, grimacing as she tried to stand up, but the pain was to much and she fell back, Kaldir caught her and lowered her back into her seat.

"What happened I tried to...." Vanwe started to say, but Léspheria put up her hand to stop her "The injury is not mine, although I assure you it certainly feels like it is."

"Who is Lóthaniel, that name sounds familiar to me" Kaldir asked. "And well it should Ranger, Lothaniel is one of the many Elves that taught the Faithful how to survive the wilds. He is also my twin and he is in need of my help so...... she tried to rise again but this time the pain burned in her shoulder.

"your feeling his pain" Vanwe gasped in astonishment, Léspheria nodded the strain of trying to hold back the tears was becoming too much, but she continued to bite them back.

Suddenly the inn door flew open "Léspheria!" he cried anxiously, and strode right up and knelt before her, The man looked in his early forties, his hair was dark and his face unshaven, he was a ranger of Annuminas and he born the coat of arms of the Dunedain apon his tunic."Are you ok?"

"I am fine it is Lóthaniel" she replied not surprised in the slightest that he was here, "Has the pain past" he asked gently, she shook her head, "Léspheria, this isn't right before it has passed quickly and..."

"You don't understand Amandur, my pain has not stopped because.... "his hasn't" Amandur finished for her, she nodded sadly. "we must get you to your room" he urged gently. "No! we must leave now!" "and without any gear how far would you get" he retorted sternly.

He then turned to Kaldir will you help me to take her .... He stopped and squinting his eyes he asked "Do I know you? Have we meet before? you look familiar," "Amandur!" Lespheria cut in, "ahem... yes... well... anyway will you help me take her to her room?" Kaldir nodded looking at Amandur as though trying to recall if he did indeed know this man.

"And you my lady, your help may also be required," he gasp as he looked on her then he turned to Léspheria, but at her stern look he said nothing.

The three of them helped Léspheria to her room by the time they got there, the pain had started to pass and Lespheria was able to stand on her own, she thanked both Kaldir and Vanwe for their help. She was slightly relieved when Kaldir left first, As Vanwe made to follow him she grabbed the young woman's wrist limply to stop her,she nodded to Ammandur who gentle closed the door.

"I will be leaving as soon as possible, but I will not be able to take everything with me" she said softly though the worry for her brother still showed in her eyes, she pressed the key to her room into the younger elf's hands and continued "I would be grateful if you would take this room and look after my things till I return."

[Elora]

Vanwe stared at the key in her hand for a moment and then back to Lespheria, puzzlement still plain in her eyes.

"I will watch this room for you, m'lady, she said uncertainly. "None shall enter or remove anything from it. I will see to it."

Vanwe closed her hand tightly around the key in emphasis of her words and studied Lespheria anew.

"I still do not understand though," she said softly. The pain should not be. Vanwe turned her gaze to Amandur who watched anxiously.

"Can you not do something," he asked of her. She saw uncertainty in him as he studied her features, and faint shock of recognition that she did not share. Again, could she not escape her mother's shadow? Vanwe felt helpless and overmatched, but she could not just leave Lespheria to the pain that made the room swim in Vanwe's vision.

"I will try," Vanwe said and again bent her untrained senses towards the pain that was real but had no source she could reach. Lespheria was struggling against it as best she could. Faced with this amorphous pain, there was no wrongness that Vanwe could set herself against. Still, she reached for what little she could sieze and did what she could.

The result was slight, but the struggle for Lespheria was a little easier also. Vanwe stirred, tired, and shook her head.

"This thing is beyond me, and I have done what little I can. But without the source of the pain, I am all but useless to you."

Amandur murmured "Interesting," as he closed inspected Lespheria for a worsening as he suspected may come from whom he thought he saw.

"Still, there may be something I can find to dull your pain, my lady," Vanwe said as an idea occured to her.

"No, it would dull my senses and we have no time," Lespheria objected.

"Not necessarily," Vanwe demurred. "The most effective would indeed have you unconscious, but I can still make something to ease the sharpness from the pain so that you can function. You will get farther much faster without this heavy burden upon you, I saw what I needed only just beyond the stables this morning. I can have them ready for you quickly."

Amandur said over Lespheria's shaken head, "Then do so."

Vanwe nodded, tucked the key into her pouch and rushed out of the room. She closed the door on Amandur question to Lespheria "Is that really -"

She let the latch click shut with a sigh. Perhaps Silvanis was right and she should cast off her name. But how was she to cast off her very face? Was he right about Kaldir? She let those thoughts buzz at the back of her mind as she raced down the stairs and out of the inn towards the fringes of the trees she had only emerged from that morning. The required plants preoccupied her.

Buried in the shadows, a woman watched the younger Elf walk beyond the first trees and bend over a growth of plants, extract a pitifully small belt knife and proceed to harvest a supply. The dappled sunlight on her back and hair told the watching woman much. Green eyes fixed on Vanwe, and a face that was serene and beautiful allowed her lips to curve into a smile. Naiore Dannan remained still though, for she knew that another was here. Rangers, whom she despised with a bitter hatred, and one she knew, perhaps more. Her decision to remain in the north longer than she had wished to would yield fruit afterall.

She watched Vanwe range a little further afield, and with the stealth of a ghost, Naiore ascended a nearby maple to there get a greater vantage. Her daughter, oblivious, bent over another plant and set her knife to that. So poorly armed and her abilities so raw and untrained, she would prove easy and therefore somewhat disappointed. But Kaldir, whom she had already tested with pain and blood, was quite another matter and she looked forward to that encounter with a sharp hunger of anticpation.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel smiled at Chrestienne. She didn't think she really had a choice of whether or not she would hear the story, so she went along as Chrestienne steered her to a pair of seats by the window.

"I--I would enjoy he-hearing your t-tale. Though, I--I must ad-admit that I--I don't remem-remember asking that question." She laughed a little at herself. "I--I was somewhat...distracted...at the time."

The two women both ordered drinks, Niniel a light wine, and Chrestienne an ale, then sat at the recently vacated table. One not-so-incidentally nearby the one at which sat Soronume and his companion. It was a little silly of her, but Niniel contrived to sit across from Chrestienne in such a manner that she could easily watch Soronume without appearing too obvious about it. The play of light on his features was most fascinating, even if she'd seen the same sort of light on many another face many times before.

Chrestienne thought it mildly amusing that Niniel was so taken with Soronume. She couldn't blame the woman, any girl in her right mind would be reduced to a puddle if Soronume decided to grace them with his attention. It was so very reminiscent of how she had been just a few months before--

No, she thought firmly to herself. There will be time enough for that tale later. "You did ask me the other night at dinner, and as I recall, Mardath repeated the question when I said I hadn't heard. I don't blame you for being preoccupied, though," Chrestienne said with a smile. She sipped from her ale and then continued. "I would be too, if I...well, I'll get there soon enough, if you are truly interested in hearing."

Niniel's gaze refocused on her. Chrestienne chuckled a little bit. Just admit it to yourself, she thought. You're so very taken with him that you can't keep your mind on anything else. "If you are truly not interested in hearing, I'll not push the matter further."

[Tinuviel of Denton]

"Oh, no, please, do tell. I, uh, I'm not--I don't have v-very g-good manners. I u-usually keep to my-myself. I do beg y-your pardon, I--I don't kn-know what's wrong with me."

It wasn't as though Niniel had been infatuated with a man, or elf in this case, before. Indeed, she had never been around any male, of any race, who was nearly as kind and well-spoken as was Soronume. Well, if she had, she didn't remember it. Most of the men she'd known had been rough, coarse fellows without any manners at all.

She shook her head a little, reminding herself that she didn't want to remember a great deal of her past. She motioned to Chrestienne to tell her tale. Maybe it would get her mind off the man she could never have.

[piosenniel]

To refresh everyone's memory:

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.

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:

Derufin, a Man from Ethring in the Ringló Vale, is the stablemaster and general handyman/jack of all trades for the Inn.

Vinca Bunce, Hobbit – ‘Cook’ – widowed runs the kitchen

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

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

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff and Postmaster; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

Amaranthas Bolger – very old, crotchety Hobbit from Hobbiton, nicknamed ‘The Dragon’

Piosenniel – Elven, Innkeeper prior to Aman; married to Mithadan; has two children: a twin boy and girl; as yet unnamed infants.

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

At present it is a pleasant, clear mid-morning in the Shire. The season is mid-Summer.

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

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Gilly woke up long after the sun had crept over the horizon. Left ear folded and pinned against the wooden planking, she found herself on the floor, and despite the pain of it she had the dim recollection of deeming the cool boards far more comfortable to sleep upon than trying to drift off in a chair. She had to commend Benia for tolerating that most uncomfortable sleeping arrangement the previous two evenings.

The hobbit lay listening to the sounds of the inn in the morning, the squawking chickens scuffling over grain scattered for their breakfast, the clinking of crockery. She wondered if Benia was awake yet. Gilly noted the closed door. She didn’t remember having shut it.

Getting to her feet she rapped on the door. “Miss Benia, the sun is out! Are you awake?” Hearing no response she tired again, “Miss Benia are you awake?” Opening the door slowly, so as not to awaken her sleeping friend, she peered into the room. The sight before her overwhelmed her. The coverlet and blankets were strewn across the floor like ghostly fingers pointing to the open window. Gilly need not see the splintered sash to known what had happened. Benia was gone and not of her own volition.

She could find only one explanation in her mind and knew of one person capable of such a thing.

“Kaldir!” she exclaimed as she dashed for the staircase.

She had to find Léspheria and tell her what had happened. Perhaps she would know where the ranger had gone or at least she could gain counsel from the clear-sighted elf. But as Gilly reached the commons room, the door of the inn opened to emit Léspheria in obvious pain being carried in by Kaldir, Vanwe following after. What has happened here?, thought the hobbit. Is Kaldir back then?

If Kaldir hadn’t taken Benia who had?

Gilly didn’t know whom to turn to now, and felt benumbed with fright, but knew she needed to find some place quiet to think. Walking out of the inn she soon found herself at the stables, and pacing up and down outside of the stalls, she wracked her brain trying to come up with a plan of action. She must calm down; Benia’s life depended on it.

Sensing the hobbit’s anxious demeanor the horses began to watch Gilly, sticking their long faces out in the aisle way. She looked back at them wondering if she could learn something of the puzzle here. After all was there not a white mare saddled up but with no rider in sight, or the chestnut horse looking exhausted as it lay in its stall. But where was Kaldir’s animal? She felt a strong need to examine it for clues to its master’s activities, for although the pieces were not coming together Gilly still felt the ranger responsible for Miss Nightshade’s disappearance.

Recognizing the ranger’s horse, she slipped inside the stall, the tall beast regarding her with a sidelong glance. Gilly felt as if she were a mouse in the straw about to be tread upon! Haste, lest she be the next injured guest at the inn!

[Gorothlammothiel]

"Quite comfortable indeed" Soronume agreed, disregarding the silence, "the lady Aman has done a fine job with the inn's upkeep. It's a wonder that she ever gets any rest at all." Vanataurien nodded, "I suppose she has help though?" she questionned. "Yea, I suppose she does" Soronume replied as a slight laugh escaped his mouth. Vanataurien smiled.

Breifly, Soronume looked around the room which was becoming full again. The hobbit who he had 'bumped' into was once again running across the room, though this time she had made it safely across. As he brought his vision back to the maiden sat across from him, another table caught his eye. Sat not so far away were two familiar faces who had returned to the inn it seemed. Chrestienne and Niniel.

Soronume caught their gaze immediately, and Niniel quickly turned back to her wine. Chrestienne hadn't moved so quickly and Soronume was able to show acknowledgement of their presence with a smile. A rush of colour seemed to flee to Chrestienne's face and she turned back as well.

Soronume noticed that Vanataurien seemed to be sitting quite akwardly in her chair. "Are you quite comfortable m'lady?" he asked her softly. She nodded as she positioned herself and sat still. Assured that she was infact quite comfortable, Soronume proceeded to ask the familiar question to travellers.

"You've passed here before but never stopped, if you do not mind my asking, what is different this time that it brings you to stay in the Shire?"

[ July 13, 2003: Message edited by: Gorothlammothiel ]

"You've passed here before but never stopped, if you do not mind my asking, what is different this time that it brings you to stay in the Shire?"
Vanataurien took a sip of her drink, thinking of how she would answer. " I am here to deliver news to a certain hobbit. What that hobbit will do with the information, I know not." she said, hoping it was enough. Soronume nodded, accepting what he had been told.

Vanataurien blinked, quickly looking the room over again. So many smiling faces, she thought, looking to a table of laughing hobbits. She hadn't seen smiles in a while, the sudden aura of happiness had been quite overwhelming.

"Soronume," she said, returning her focus to him. "You seem to know this Inn well, why visit you here?" Perhaps she could have asked a better question, but that was all she could think of at the moment.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin’s first stop was the kitchen. The morning rush of breakfasts were over and Cook had that rare moment of ease where she was able to sit at the table, her feet propped on a chair and do nothing. Ruby and Buttercup were just finishing up the dishes, their heads bent close together, exchanging tidbits of information on the very handsome, or so at least they thought, Hobbit lad who had recently come to the Inn. Cook sat, resting her head on her hand, her arm propped on the table and listened to their chatter.

‘I’ve not seen him around her before,’ said Ruby wiping the last drops of water from one of the mugs. She stood on her tip toes and placed it in a line one the top shelf of the mug cupboard. Cook nodded her head at her as Ruby looked back at her, knowing Cook was a stickler for having her kitchen just so.

‘Me, either,’ replied Buttercup, wiping her hands on a towel. She smiled dreamily, dropping the towel on the floor as she reached to put in on the peg by the sink. ‘But I sure do intend to see him as often as I can while he’s here!’

A loud ‘Tsk!’ from Cook snapped her out of her reverie, and she colored prettily as Cook pointed to the floor where the towel had dropped. Derufin had come in at the last of this exchange, and gallantly retrieved the towel for Buttercup, who ran to put it in the laundry basket.

‘I was wondering,’ he said, sitting down in the chair opposite Cook, have any of you seen the man from Rohan this morning? Eodwine – the fellow who was bunking in my quarters.’ The trio of women looked at one another, in expectation that one of them would have served him, but the answer was a resolved ‘no’. ‘Why do you ask,’ said Cook, getting up to pour a cup of tea for the man.

Derufin explained that Eodwine had been gone for a while. ‘Visiting some new parts of the Shire I should think, though I cannot recall where he said he would be going.’ Cook laughed at this gloss of the day Eodwine had left the Inn. ‘What you cannot remember is if he said anything about his direction and if he did, what he said.’ She looked at him with an amused smirk on his face. ‘You were, after all quite drunk, as I recall.’

Now it was Derufin’s turn to turn a little red. The tops of his ears crimsoned and he acknowledged that ‘yes’ that may have been the case. ‘All that aside, though,’ he went on, ‘we’ve got his horse come back winded and sweating to the Inn, and riderless, it now appears.’

‘No, indeed, it’s not good that a king’s messenger has gone missing.’ Cook shivered a bit as a presentiment of ill in the Shire brushed through her thoughts. ‘Not good at all,’ she said again more firmly, standing up from her chair, and pushing the sleeves of her cardigan above her elbow.

Ruby and Buttercup stole glances at one another, knowing this was a sign that Cook had made some decision and was about to put them to work. On cue, Cook turned to Buttercup and bade her fetch Miss Aman and Mistress Cami. Ruby she sent out to look carefully about the Inn and the yard for any traces of the missing man. ‘Don’t ask any fool questions of anyone, either of you. We need to sort this out before anyone else gets panicked.’

The Hobbits left the kitchen at a run, and Cook turned to Derufin. ‘And you,’ she said, drumming her fingers on the table, ‘can you think of anyway we might use his horse to find him . . . it’s all we have it seems . . .’

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami came sweeping into the kitchen looking slightly cross. In her hands were several old leather volumes of indeterminate origin and a satchel bulging with pens and vellum. For once she was determined not to let Cook bully her, "Can't you give me a minute's peace? Every time I sit down to work, someone interrupts. At the rate I'm going, I'll be as old as Bilbo before I even manage to look at any of this, let alone write something of my own." She plopped the books down on the table and glared accusingly over at Cook.

"Alright, I'm here. Now exactly what is this problem that couldn't wait?"

Cook eyed Cami disapprovingly, "Always got your nose stuffed in one of those old books, Miz Cami. Someday, it'll lead to no good!"

Cami bit her tongue to keep from blurting out that she had already managed to get into considerable trouble by searching for secrets in older volumes. But before she could defend herself, or even admit to the truth of Cook's accusation, Derufin caustically observed, "Enough bickering, you two. There's a man in trouble out there, and all you can do is argue."

"What man? Who? What are you talking about?" Cami challenged.

Derufin sighed and went on to explain what they had just been discussing.

"Well," prodded Cook, "do you remember anything, Cami? When you last saw him or where he was going?"

Cami screwed up her brow and tried to think. A man vanishing and his riderless horse turning up could be a serious matter. Especially a man such as Eodwine who was here in the Shire as a royal messenger.

She hesitated a minute and then spoke, "I honestly don't remember too much. He sent me a brief note before he came. We were always going to sit down to talk, only we never quite made it. I got involved with the mathom sale, and he disappeared. That was the end of our talk. One minute he was bunking down in the stables, and the next he was gone."

"So you don't remember anything?" Cook added.

Again, Cami hesitated before responding. "Yes, there was one thing. I don't have the note with me, but I remember he said something about Buckland. People in Buckland he'd visited or he was going to see later..... It's all a jumble in my head. Anyways, it may mean nothing. He could have changed his mind or put off the journey till a later date. Derefin said the pony came galloping from the west, so that doesn't sound much like Buckland. But I do remember him mentioning the place to me."

Cami lowered her voice, directing her words at Cook, "I hate to say this, but shouldn't we report this incident to the Shirriff."

"Halfred?" Cook blanched. "You want us to tell Halfred?"

"He is the Shirriff," Cami noted.

"He's also an addle-brained busy body who sometimes has trouble telling the good folk from the bad!"

Cami sighed. She could scarcely deny the truth of Cook's words.

"No," continued Cook in a conspiratorial tone, "let's try to do this on our own. It may be we'll need to draw others in later, but I'd rather keep this matter private for now."

Cami shook her head and agreed to keep an ear open for any news. Before she left, she glanced back at Derufin, "If you do send out a search party, I would like to be part of it. Eodwine has done me a good turn on more than one occasion. I have a debt to pay." With that parting thought, Cami headed down the hallway.

[Everdawn]

Madea had left Hathorn to his writing and returned to her rooom upstairs to pack her things. Hathorn had packed previously that morning. She came down about an hour later to find Hathorn leaning against the wall smiling. "It is done! come now, we have a long trip to get to Minas Tirith"

He smiled and took her things. Madea laid their due fees on the table for the innkeeper and followed Hathorn outside to where the horses were tethered up to a post. She was overjoyed at the new beginnings her friend had given her, and would be eternally greatful.

Madea mounted her horse, only as another rode up. Its rider, a short woman, with dark shoulder length hair and deep maroonish eyes, dressed in the habit of a black coat over a navy blue tunic and skirt with high black riding boots. The other rider did not smile, but looked stern. pitty thought Madea, She would be so pretty if only she did smile.

The rider sat tall in her saddle, turning her head to watch the man and young woman ride off. Fools she thought, A wedding ring? That poor girl should kill him before he get the chance to do her.The rider laughed and dismounded. She was here on business and business alone.

Her name was Scylla, and she was not of this area, but from the south of Ithilien, a horse trader by nature had once been born a gypsy, travelling throughout the South of Gondor, they to had been horse traders upon a time. But Scylla was much more.

She entered the inn and looked around. The Green Dragon she repeated to herself quietly. Her hard exterior now fading. Her eyes switched form the room to where Niniel, Chrestienne and Soronume were sitting deep in conversation. A conversation Scylla's eyes registered a yearning, and sighed. Well what am i waiting for? no one intimidates me. And who knows maybe they want a horse.

Scylla approached the group. "Good day to you. i am so sorry to bother you but, it has been so long since i have spoken about things to people." she instantly frowned and thought about how strange this must have sounded. "My name is Scylla, may I join you?" she stood back and gave a smile.

[Carrûn]

Awyrgan's dark features took in the new arrival in one sweeping green-eyed glance, watching briefly as she made her way to a table where several others sat and he then returned to his drink. He heard her introduce herself but payed little attention.

At the moment he was much more interested in the fairly large breakfast he had sitting in front of him. Mostly it was eggs and potatoes, but there was plenty of bread and meat as well.

He ate slowly, enjoying for a brief moment food which he had not had to kill and cook himself. As always, the Shire food was excellent. He was loath to admit it, but it was a major factor in his return. He swallowed an overcooked potatoe with the aid of his drink with some difficulty as he reflected on his next move.

He had still to make good on his promise to repay the Innkeeper for her generosity, and intented to keep his word. At the same time, he was in no particular hurry to end his free ride.

From his vantage point at the bar the weathered man could see around the doorway into the kitchen. There a cluster of persons held a conference. Awyrgan had a nose for trouble, and apart from it finding him, he was rather good at happening upon it himself. Besides, he thought to himself with some satisfaction, any half-witted invididual could see by their appearance that the issue being discussed is more serious than spilled ale.

He half raised his hand as a hobbit walked past him out of the kitchen, but let it fall without inturrupting her when he examined the look on her face. He chewed absently on a thumbnail, mulling the possibilities over in his head. He caught the eye of the Cook and quickly dropped it, not wishing to incurr any unecessary wrath. Shire or no Shire, cooks were cooks.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

"Good day to you. I am so sorry to bother you but, it has been so long since i have spoken about things to people. My name is Scylla, may I join you?"

Niniel looked up at another stranger, grateful for that it gave her an excuse to look away from Soronume. He'd glanced at her and she was rather embarrassed that he'd caught her staring.

"Of--of course," she responded. "I--I am called Nin-Niniel a-a-and this is Chrestienne." She sighed inwardly, as her stutter seemed to have no intention of diminishing. It was time that she learned to live with it.

[Elora]

Vanwe cast about the undergrowth with growing haste. All she needed was some Calendula and some Clary Sage! Certain she had seen the former only that morning, she pushed a little deeper into the trees. Silvanis' warning about wandering alone was drowned out by her need to quickly locate the necessary herbs to make the tincture for Lespheria.

The summer morning light shone clearly through the leave overhead in places, making it easier to search. Vanwe held little hope of finding Sage in the wetter and colder north. She was counting on Cook's foresight in stocking her larder for that ingredient. However, Calendula should be somewhere here, surely. She frowned at the growth around her which refused to give up what she needed, and pushed a little further.

More than once she passed a low, spreading plant that bore white flowers and gave off a pleasant wholesome scent when the leaves were crushed. Hoping it had some possible benefit, provided she could identify it in time for use, Vanwe snatched up a healthy store of the plant and continued her search. It occured to her that her lack of knowledge of northern plant life was working against her, a fact that she did not well like at all.

Brow creased with urgency, Vanwe bent over yet another plant and with a small cry of triumph realised that she had found the Calendula again. She crouched and began to harvest, uncomfortably aware of the time that had passed and that she had no idea where Kaldir was. The shadows between the trees offered her little reassurance.

Knowing where Vanwe was, brows rising at the girl's untrained abilities and how they roamed to and fro with little discipline at all, Naiore turned her own senses wider. Honed to a finely edged weapon that could be turned as easily to one of detection and search, she slipped easily beneath her daughter's unfocused "static" as though she was diving beneath the water's surface.

Naiore had an excellent vantage in her tree, a perch that afforded her a full view of the inn and the surrounds. Combining sharp sight, hearing and empathy, Naiore detected the faintest snag in the erstwhile ocean she swam through with smooth and stealthy strokes. There was something vaguely familiar. She knew whomever it was she sensed. When shadow below shifted fractionally, Naiore realised with a sudden and brilliant smile that Kaldir himself was present.

Two treasures in the one forest, how fortuitous! Vanwe, on the other hand, seemed unaware of both her and Kaldir and was still doing something no doubt menial with the plant. Beside her lay a small pile of the herbs she had already gathered. Should she be snatched by either one, only those herbs would be witness and only another Ranger or similiarly skilled individual would mark that. She sensed no other Rangers nearby.

There was one last thing to take care of before moving. Naiore had no idea how her daughter came to be here, in the north, at an inn no less. She had no way of knowing whether the girl would be missed if she was taken, and if so how soon she would be missed. Observation was necessary still, Naiore noted. It was not likely that the girl would be missed, she postulated, but the risk in the unknown factor was too great to entertain it.

Naiore settled in to where she was perched, studying her daughter who was both alike as a mirror and not. Girl, Naiore thought, although traces of womanhood were in her unconscious movements whether she knew it at all. Still, Vanwe had the dubious talent of blending in to anywhere: which made her kidnapping so much more easier, for who would miss her. Naiore waited to see if her answer of noone was proved right.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman popped her head into the kitchen where Buttercup had instructed her to come, not wanting to stay for very long. They had got in touch with Rosie Brandybuck's mother, and she was meanwhile staying at Ruby's house, where her mother was all to willing to fuss over the fragile, pretty little hobbit girl. But as for her friend, the boy...he still remained elusively vanished. However, her thoughts of a quick meeting about potatoes, or wines, or some other such triviality were soon dispelled as Cook motioned her in in a no nonsense way. Aman held back a sigh.

"What's the matter?" She inquired, noticing the serious expressions on the faces of all present. She also noted the rather stormy glares Cook and Cami were sending each other over the piles of scrolls and books which sat in front of Cami, but decided that leaving well alone was a good idea.

Cami turned towards her, a frown of worry creasing her forehead. "Eodwine's vanished." She stated frankly.

"The messenger?" Aman remembered well the kind, Rohirrim rider, and was shocked by the news. "How...why...what?" She finished. Derufin quickly explained the situation and Aman's eyebrows remained up.

"So his horse arrived, but not he?" Aman said thoughtfully. "Did he say anything about where he was headed before he left?"

Derufin suddenly became incredibly interested in his shoes, and Cook's glare transfered to the stable master. Aman would have smiled if the situation hadn't been so serious. "Ri-ight. I see. And we have nothing else...?"

"A note...he left a note. I don't have it with me, but he said something about going to Buckland, visiting someone or something...anyway, Derufin said the horse came galloping from the West though, and that doesn't fit with Buckland."

"Has anyone told Halfred?"

"We were just discussing that," Cami said. "He is the shirriff."

"He's also an addle-brained busy body who sometimes has trouble telling the good folk from the bad!" Cook put in. Cami didn't seem to disagree, and Aman, much as she liked Halfred, had to admit it was often the case. Cook lowered her voice and continued, "Lets try to do this on our own It may be we'll need to draw others in later, but I'd rather keep this matter private for now."

"I'll keep an ear out," Cami agreed, before turning towards the door. If you do send out a search party, I would like to be part of it. Eodwine has done me a good turn on more than one occasion. I have a debt to pay."

Aman wondered at these words- Cami did seem to have more than a few secrets. Still, there were indeed more pressing things to be thought on. "'Tis a terrible thing that this could happen. Eodwine is a gentleman, a good man- I will keep an ear out for news as well."

Aman turned to go, them stopped, remembering something she had needed to bring up with Cook, but which she was loath to bring up now. "Cook, about Pio's party- we have just over a week now."

Cook clasped a hand to her heart. "Oh, deary me, there is, isn't there! Have you got the drinks sorted for it?"

"I am going to send another messenger to Butterbur now- he forgot the last meeting."

"Forget his own head if it wasn't screwed on." Cook grumbled. "Well, go on then."

Aman was relieved to be shooed out of the kitchen, and went to find the young woman who had said she was departing for Bree, but thoughts of what could have happened to Eodwine hung darkly on her mind.

[Gorothlammothiel]

"You seem to know this Inn well, why visit you here?"

"Why do I visit?" Soronume repeated Vanataurien's question aloud then thought on the answer for a few moments. "I initially was just, 'passing through' you might say. As most to the inn, I was travelling and needed a place to stop and the inn presented itself. Quite easily I became accustomed to it, the diversity of its inhabitants and the warmth that it offers to those as us. I seemed to be able to just 'slip' into the inn and my existance hardly noticable at first, at least when I did not mean to be noticed." He paused realising that was no longer the case, but then cleared his mind and continued to answer the question.

"I made a friend here, well there are of course others," he glanced over to the two tables where both Niniel and Christienne and Elwen and Dorelnar sat. "But one inparticular, the first I made some time ago, when the inn was still in the hands of a dwarf." this last comment seemed to surprise Vanataurien, but Soronume continued regardless. "Her name was Eruwen, a shy maiden she was but very warm." He smiled. "We left the inn and seemed to quite literally 'fall' into a small company, and a quest to Cirith Ungol." Soronume paused and sighed heavily. Vanataurien noticed that Soronume seemed to be holding this matter very close to his heart still, but before she could say anything he quickly continued. "It claimed her life. The quest. And in doing so, it left scars that will never fade, or ease with time" he was sure to brush quickly over that last part. It was true that the tale still pained him, and he moved his hand away from the table and to his side.

Vanataurien remained silent. "I suppose that although we achieved what we had set out to achieve," Soronume continued, "the losses on the way meant I couldn't be content where I was, and having never felt at home any where, this inn seemed the nearest thing." "Because you met Eruwen here?" Vanataurien questionned carefully. Soronume just nodded. The maidens voice was soft, "I'm sorry." "There is no need to be sorry m'lady, there was nothing anyone could have done, least of all someone who was not there" He tried to force a smile but he could see in Vanataurien's face that it did not appear as such. Not knowing how to continue after such a moment he sat back in his chair and fell into the shadow of an overhanging wall...

[littlemanpoet]

It was late afternoon when Halfred walked through the doors of the Green Dragon Inn. He called to Aman across the room for his usual - doubled! - and made his way between the tables.

By the time Aman had the first mug of ale on the counter, Halfred was seated before her.

"Bring the second one to there, no dallying."

"But you've only laid your hand on that one."

He brought the mug to his lips, glaring at her over the rim as he sucked on the foamy brew. Aman's eyes widened as the big mug emptied without pause. Finally he set it down with a bang on the counter and wiped his foamy lip, glowering.

"Here's the second."

"Thanks, miss." He drained the next one in no more time than the first. Aman's eyes widened even further, then narrowed.

"This is not you, Halfred. How is it with you?"

"Remember the word you sent from here this morning, about a missing man of Rohan?" Aman nodded, her face a picture of anticipation.

"I've had word."

"Wait! Let me get the others!"

Aman ran into the kitchen. Halfred licked his lips and greeted friends while he waited. Not long. Aman came back to the bar with Cook, Cami, and Derufin on her heels.

"What word, Halfred?" Cook said. "Out with it. No dallying now or you'll get us more wrought up than we already are."

"One more," he tapped the counter next to the two empty mugs, "and then I'll tell ye."

They groaned and urged Aman to pour the next one. She placed it sloshing before Halfred, and all four pairs of eyes were on him. He lifted his mug, watching them, and began to quaff his third, the sound of his slurping accompanied by much groaning and rolling of eyes.

"Hurry, Halfred, afore we pull that mug away!"

He set it down with a clack, half empty.

"A shirrif come across the farthings t'day. A young lad, Falco Bobbin by name, over from Michel Delving way. Said some-at come from up the hills nor'west o' Michel Delving, a traveler - no Ranger, mind you - some traveler, an' he brung a satchel wit' 'im." Aman and Derufin exchanged glances. "He showed it to the shirrifs at Michel Delving and they spread the word, an' so it come to me."

"Is that all?" Cami cried.

"E's comin' this way insofar as word met us from you, an' he'll have more. But if ye lost some-at up northaway, an' he had him a satchel, well, we might have some-at t' go on."

With that, Halfred finished off his third.

"Not 'appy news what? Made me thirsty it did. An' now I mus' be back to me duty." He got off his seat and swerved around the tables, tilting leeward as he went.

Derufin grunted. "He better not have Cook's bacon and taters tomorrow."

[Nerindel]

"Is that really Menecin's daughter" Amandur asked with a mischievous glint in his hazel coloured eyes, Lespheria looked up, she was slightly surprised that her friend had not stated the obvious, for it was plainly obvious that Vanwe had her mothers face. "Her eyes" Amandur answered seeing Léspheria's surprise, "Only one Elf I know has those eyes." Léspheria tried to smile as she recalled Menecin's kind and gentle face, it had been a long time since she had seen his warm smile or heard his melodic voice.

"How is he?" she asked her smile fading and concern again showing on her soft elven features. "He is safe, although I hear he complains constantly at being confined to ...." Amandur paused and looked around the room as though the walls would be listening, "Well, you know" Léspheria nodded, she did know how much he would hate being confined, even if it was for his own safety. "He blames himself you know" Amandur said softly looking deep into Lespheria's deep grey eyes. She turned away sadly and whispered "I know."

After a few moments of awkward silence, Léspheria spoke again, "So how long have you been here, my friend ?" Amandur rose and made his way over to the window, he watched Vanwe cross the court yard. Sighing he turned back to Léspheria and began. "Just a week ago a royal messenger arrived asking for me by name, he bore an urgent message from the king." Amandur slipped his hand into his tunic and pulled out the neatly folded parchment and handed it to Léspheria. She turned the parchment and ran her fingers over the wax seal that bore the official crest of the king, then slowly she opened it and read.

Amundur,

I hope this message finds you swiftly, for the errand I must now request of you is of the utmost importance. You must travel to the boundaries of the Shire, there you will met Lóthaniel Denfëa, whom I believe you already know. He will tell you more.
Go swiftly but discretely.

Elessar.

Léspheria was surprised to see her brother named in this message, she had known for some time that her brother was keeping something from her, but she thought it was only that he knew Halwain was Fawains father and the whole business between them and the Orc chief Skaikrish, he had explained much of this to her on their journey to the inn. As she looked up she saw Amandur studying her, trying to judge how much she knew. But at her asking look he continued..

"Lóthaniel explained to me that they had found Menecin's daughter, which I must admit surprised me for I did not know he had a daughter, but not nearly as much as what followed,"

"He told you who her mother was and warned you that she would look like her" Léspheria cut in.

Amandur nodded then went on "He also told me how the Kings Rangers while tracking Naiore Dannan through Belfalas came apon this young woman and if Lóthaniel had not been with them and seen their mistake they would have surely kill her, Instead they followed her hoping that she would lead them to her mother.

As they passed north Lóthaniel broke from the group and went to Rivendell to inform the Lords of what they had discovered, at about the same time he received word of Halwains capture and Skaikrish's demand that they bring Fawain to him. Lóthaniel thought these two occurrences more than coincidental, for one thing Skaikrish was not clever enough to have captured Halwain let alone find out that he was related to Fawain, it seemed to him and the Lords of Rivendell that someone was trying to keep the northern rangers preoccupied.

The lords informed Lothaniel that they had a shipment of Miruvor that needed delivered to the Shire for an Elven naming day celebration and ...." "Yes, I think I know the rest from here, so you were to watch Vanwe to see if her mother turned up" Léspheria concluded and Amandur did not miss the annoyance in her tone. Lespheria was angry that they had put this young elf's life in danger by following her, if Naiore knew that her daughter, no matter how unwittingly, was leading her enemies to her she may well try to rid herself of that shadow.

As she looked at Amandur, who was once again at the window watching for Vanwe's return, she realised that he was not just there to watch Vanwe, "You were to watch me too!" she whispered not fully understanding. Amandur spun around "You don't know...I thought..... he trailed off frowning. Then it hit her, "My Mother! it was Naiore that did those terrible things to my mother" Lespheria's eyes welled with tears at the memory of her mothers death. Amandur put his hands on her shoulders, "Listen, Léspheria your mother and Naiore were bitter enemies, It was your mother who opened Menecin's eyes to Naiore's treachery and she hated her for it."

"But my mother is dead so what has this to do with me!" she asked trying to compose herself. "Everything and maybe nothing" Amandur answered, "Naiore does not know that your mother is dead, when we found Valaindon she was in the very depths of Mordors prisons but she was not yet dead, but before she passed she managed to say... protect the gift and tell my daughter I am sorry." at the sound of her mothers name and her last word, it all became too much for her, she buried her face in her hands, Amandur gathered her up and held her in his strong arms letting her release the torrent of emotions that welled within her.

He and a few other rangers had taken Valaindon's broken body back to Rivendell, shortly after the war. But Léspheria's Father had forbid them to tell Léspheria of her mothers words, he told them that she was recovering from a strange illness. At the time he had agreed, not knowing the full extent of her illness. But now holding her in his arms he knew she had felt every moment of her mothers Torture. He had seen Valaindon's body she had been tortured then healed and by the look of her wounds it had happened many times, for over a month another ranger had reckoned. He hugged her a little tighter, he could not begin to imagine what Léspheria had gone through and was now going through again.

He felt useless, their was nothing he could do to help her. He could only hope that Naiore did not seek her daughter, He believed she would see Valaindon and not Léspheria if their paths crossed. As for Vanwe he had doubts, She searches for her mother, not her father, why? He held Léspheria until emotionally drained she fell asleep in his arms, He laid her gently down on the bed, as he did he noticed that she wore her mothers short sword, he hoped she would not need it. He quietly went about packing the things she would need for their journey. He meant to go with her no matter how much she protested.

When he had finnished packing her things he went back to the window, which afforded a clear view of the courtyard and the pool beyond, he continued his watch, but he was still distracted by Léspheria's ailment, so much so that he failed to see the two shadows that lurked in the shadows watching his charge.

[Beren87]

Beren walked swiftly towards the front of this new inn he'd come across, an oddly porportioned buidling the words "The Green Dragon" were prominently displayed upon a sign hanging in front of a seemingly-smaller than usual door. A stable could be seen off to the left of the large Inn, the neighing of it's occupants accompaning the sweet shrill of the birds around.

His clothes dishevled from a long-weeks walk, having lost his horse many a week ago to a very swarthy troll he'd met up with upon the road. Only by the nick of time had he managed to escape in more or less one piece. His shirt was ripped around the back, but a lovely lookingly overcoat covered it up quite nicely, though it obviously prevented him from leaving article at the door as he entered. His pants were, of course, worn down to barely a thread having covered him the entire distance between the inn and the losing of the horse. The horse had, incidently, been carrying all of his supplies, and in his flee of terror he hardly thought to come back to see how they had fared.

Yet, all embarresment of his mode of dress aside he walked in anyway, the steady call of his stomach championing over any his pride might have voiced. The inside was oddly exactly the right temperature as compared to the outside, being not so warm as to produce sweat on his already famished skin. He smiled as he entered, his frame covering most of the door-way. His smile seemed to warm the place more so the roaring fire had, catching the eye of those already present.

As he took his first step into the inn, growing more confident about his present situation, his head proceeded to smash upon the corner of the coat rack nailed to the side of the door.

"Ow, bloody coatrack..." he exclaimed, now rubbing his throbbing head. A small murmur of laughter errupted from assorted corners of the room. As he looked up he noticed the lovely inn-keeper stifling back a small giggle.

Ignoring the newly received bump on his head, Beren walked further into the inn, bellying up to the bar. It was a very smoothly polished thing, excellently crafted. He rubbed his hand along the hardened surface.

"So, are you done admiring my bar, or would you like me to come back in a bit, dear stranger?"

Beren looked up, his facing glowingly slightly red, to see the cute inn-keeper he had noticed earlier staring back at him with a small smile on her lips. "I..err...yes, heh, I'm quite done."

"Well, good to hear it then. My name's Aman, I'm the innkeeper here at the Green Dragon"

"Aman, eh? Hm..very nice name. Well, Miss Aman, I'll be needing a room for the night. It seems as if I'm going to be here for quite a bit." Beren exclaimed the last part as he turned to observe the inn behind him. It wasn't a fancy place, to be sure, but it had some sort of odd charm that appealed to him. "Yes.., I think I'm going to be here for a while."

[ July 16, 2003: Message edited by: Beren87 ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami watched Halfred lurch awkwardly from one table to the next, nearly falling over a chap dressed in travel stained clothes who had come up to tne bar to make pleasantries with Aman. What an embarrassing situation! A Shirriff wearing official livery was colliding with half the visitors to the Inn. Whatever small measure of respect Cami still had for Halfred rapidly vanished.

She tried to sort out the words in her head. Something about a lost satchel and a traveller who'd gone northwest from Michel Delving. But Cami still had little idea exactly who was supposed to be coming or when they would arrive. She truly hated riddles like these. It was easier for her to understand passages and clues in a book than to listen to someone like Halfred whose words were so garbled.

She scowled and exchanged sharp glances with Derufin, "Did you understand a word he said? Anything at all? It sounded like jibberish." After all, Derufin probably had more experience than she did in downing one too many pints. Maybe he would have better luck deciphering Halfred's mangled pronouncements and figuring out what this had to do with Eodwine's disappearance.

[ July 16, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Rochelle]

She made her entrance a silent one, and moved herself to a vacant seat in the far back. A dark cloak and hood hid her features, only a stray wisp of blonde escaped.

She uncorked her canteen and took a long swallow. She'd have to refill while she was here. Months in the wild had left her mute with nary a soul to converse with save her horse. She ran the back of her hand over her mouth before allowing chocolate gaze to sweep over its inhabitants.

[Elora]

With some speed Vanwe emerged from the trees, a bundle of green sprigs clutched in her hands. She hurried towards the inn, still unaware of what lay behind her. Lespheria and Amandur probably thought she had absconded. Even if Amandur did know who she was, she still would not flee. Not when Lespheria had defended her and her own determination to stay and fight for what small she had managed to find at the Green Dragon Inn.

Aman, Derufin and all the staff probably thought she had absconded as well. Vanwe darted through the doors, hair streaming behind her as she passed tables where patrons swapped news of doings with each other. Kaldir was nowhere to be seen, she noted with some apprehension as she ducked through into the kitchen.

Out of character, Vanwe did not pause and wait to be scolded for running suddenly into the kitchen. With forthrightness that most would not think within her, Vanwe siezed a saucepan from a rack where a number dangled from the ceiling and started to throw sprigs into it. Leaves, flowers, sometimes the stalks too, all went into the pan with great speed and Vanwe did not look left nor right as the comments rose around her.

"Here, no running or tomfoolery in this kitchen," came one objection.
"What's she doing?"
"That's Cook's Sage! You can't have that!"
"You can't just take a saucepan and throw yourself in like a whirling top!"

Vanwe let the comments bounce off her, turning to add water to the pan and set it on the stovetop.

"Honestly, girl! You're a trial, make no mistake. What's in that saucepan?"
"Look, she got a weed on the table!" The protest was outraged.
"That's Kingsfoil. Move out of the way!" Vanwe reluctantly moved as the contents of her saucepan were reviewed. "There'll be no poisonings here with weeds and some such."

"It's no poison. It's a tincture," Vanwe muttered to noone in particular and then pushed her way back to the saucepan to see how it was steeping. Those in the kitchen stepped back in surprise, shaking their heads. From the steam that was starting to rise, she was able to guage how it was progressing. Kingsfoil, she thought as she stirred the herbed water. It is not familiar. Believing she had gathered no more than a pleasant scent in the kingsfoil, Vanwe disregarded it and poured the concoction into a earthen cup through a strainer to fish the leaves out. She topped it up with some cool water to reduce it's heat and was already making for the door when someone said, "What about this mess?"

Vanwe sighed, set the cup on the table and rinsed out saucepan to drain upon the sideboard. She tucked the kingsfoil into her belt, collected the cup, and left.

"Stranger lass, didn't I say so from the beginning?"
"Mrs Bunce will box her ears when she finds out Vanwe's been into the pantry."

Vanwe climbed the stairs to Lespheria's rooms, and opened the door without knocking. Amandur turned around, frowning at the sudden bursting in and Vanwe froze at his fierce expression.

"I'm sorry," she started, holding up the cup before her like a shield of sorts. "I couldn't find everything as quickly as I had hoped." Amandur examined her intently for a moment and nodded, and Vanwe set the steaming cup down on the table.

"Lady Lespheria is resting," he said with a distinctly protective tone of voice. He turned from what appeared to be packing and crossed to inspect the cup Vanwe had put down on the table. "What's in this?"

"I combined what I could find in a blend that would promote energy and strength and ease pain. I did not think anything to cause sleep would be useful. It sounds dangerous, and sharp wits are called for at such times." The note in Amandur had the effect of impelling Vanwe to explain herself. Her face was earnest, sapphire eyes clear of guile in their depths. She endured under the intense gaze until Amandur looked back at the cup. He inhaled the rising steam and nodded in approval.

"It is hot enough to wait for Lespheria to wake," Vanwe said softly as she looked at the Elf woman. "I wish there was more I could do," she sighed.

"What were you planning to do with that?" Amandur waved at the kingsfoil in her belt, staining the blue cotton of her patched dress beneath it a distinct green. He carefully watched Vanwe's fingers brush the leaves as though she had forgotten it. Vanwe shrugged slightly, a manner reminiscent as her eyes were of another. "I do not anything of it apart from it's name and it's clean scent. Perhaps I will put it in my room," she replied absently.

Amandur was struck by her comfort with the touch of the plant. It was reassuring, for certainly Naiore Dannan would not be so at home with it. The wholesome scent would not be so pleasant for the soul that lived within Vanwe's mother. Vanwe did not know that she carried a small protection against the woman who watched her. It would take more than that to protect her fully, but it was a start.

"Perhaps you could leave some here. It has considerable properties and merits," Amandur suggested. Vanwe happily removed the sprigs and peeled off the fresher ones to set by the mug. Amandur studied her a little longer. Certain that difficult questions would soon follow, Vanwe turned to leave.

"Could you possibly help me pack, Vanwe?" It was innocently phrased, and Amandur watched her come to a stand still and consider for a brief moment. Lespheria, though was sleeping, and there was so much resting on Vanwe's head. Had she seen her mother? Why was she in the Shire? Was the echoes of her father a deceptive gild over the truth of her nature, inherited from her mother? When Vanwe turned back in consent, Amandur was relieved and anxious to see what he could learn both.

"As she has entrusted you with the key, I think Lespheria would not object to your assistance," Amandur added. He gestured to the shelving near where he was busy. "Perhaps you could start here?"

Vanwe looked at the shelves with startling clear eyes in the morning light and nodded. She even went to go so far as to drop a curtsy in the manner of a maid. Was it contrivance or not? So little was known about the young woman that Amandur could not guess, yet. As Vanwe arrived at the shelving to sort through what was within them for anything of use on a journey, she felt the weight of Amandur's questions beside with no small amount of apprehension.

Apart from Lespheria, he was the closest she had been to her kindred, and she felt vulnerable. Vanwe directed an eye experienced in sorting through journey necessities and excessive baggage and hoped for the best. From time to time, she would glance through the nearby window she stood beside, as if in wistful longing to simply fly away. But, she had promised to stand.

Two sets of eyes watched her through the window from below and pondered what it may mean. Naiore did not know of Amandur's presence. Kaldir did not know of the implications of Amadur's presence. But both wondered in their separate ways. The morning light also touched upon another who barely felt it. An Elf once great and of proud lineage, now a shadow of himself stared in shattered, bleeding silence at the gilded walls of his distant prison.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman raised an eyebrow at the newcomer as, after first of all stumbling in and colliding with the coatrack, he now seemed to be fascinated with the bar, running a hand along it appreciatively. Much as Aman was sure the bar's creator would have been thrilled, Aman broke into the man's reverie. "So, are you done admiring my bar, or would you like me to come back in a bit, dear stranger?"

He looked up, apparently startled, and his cheeks and ears took on a slightly red tinge, before stammering a reply. "I..err...yes, heh, I'm quite done."

Aman couldn't help her smile widening, and as the man asked for a room, he turned to survey the room, caught up once again in some sort of strange spell as he gazed around. Aman cleared her throat lightly and pushed the log book in front of the man. "Just sign...here," she pointed at the spot on the page with a slim finger, "and there is a deposit of 2 coppers for this room."

She had hesitated before saying this last part, taking in the state of the man's disheveled clothing, but had to say it. Awrygan had done a few odd jobs around the Inn to earn his room for the night along with breakfast and lunch. Aman knew she shouldn't do that sort of thing often, as it certainly wouldn't do for the Inn to be thought of simply as a place where a free meal and room can be got, but she had taken a liking to this odd gentleman (using the word gentleman very loosely, of course). She almost thought she wouldn't mind that much if he didn't pay, as she suspected he wouldn't be able to, and after all, he said he would be staying for a while, he could earn his keep...

Aman stopped making excuses in her heart as the man extracted from his heavy-looking black overcoat a gold pen and signed his name in a slightly italicised script. Aman subtly read the writing upside down; Beren. Then he fished once more into a different pocket of aforementioned coat and withdrew two copper coins. Aman took them with a smile, and the man rolled his eyes and winked. "Smile now, huh?"

Now it was Aman's turn to blush slightly, and she looked down quickly, closing up the log book and withdrawing it, before taking a key, complete with dragon keyring, and holding it out to the young man. He smiled and took it, then coughed slightly and leaned forward conspiratorially, and Aman subconciously did the same.

"Also, is there...is there anywhere I could, erm, get some...new clothes?" Beren finished hopefully. Aman nodded, understanding, while running through the possibilities. "There's nowhere very near by, although you could have come by something in the mathom sale..." she ignored the man's puzzled expression. "Never mind. Look, as I'm guessing you won't want to wear any of my clothes," the man's eyes widened, and he looked apprehensive, before Aman continued again. "so I'll ask Derufin to send up some of his clothes, if I can persuade him."

"Please do. In the meantime, could I get something for a parched throat?"

Aman drew an ale for Beren before slipping off to ask Derufin.

[ July 16, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]

Vanataurien was little more than shocked at Soronume's story, but she attempted to remain impassive as he continued to speak. What else could she do? People had often confided in her because she would listen... but this was an incredible bit of knowledge.

She apologized, it had seemed the appropriate thing to do at the time, but Soronume voiced that she needn't be. She looked at him with shadowy eyes as he sunk back.

"I have lost someone close to me, as have you," she said finally. Her voice was soft, so as not to startle him. Soronume suddenly appeared to be listening and gave her a small nod to continue. "In my travels I met a man. He... Well, needless to say, I am an elf, he was a man. We fought side by side, and loved one another dearly, but he grew old as time went on, and he... well..." Her a ghostly tear trickled down her cheek. Soronume seemed saddened for her.

"He died." he stated, but not impassionately.

Vanataurien's eyes grew big. "Yes," she almost whispered, making her words difficult to hear. "Such is the burden of elvenhood. So I travelled, to be rid of my burdens, hoping to escape memories. That is truely how I came here." That seemed to end the topic, and Vanataurien finished her drink, leaving the both of them to think their seperate thoughts.

[ July 16, 2003: Message edited by: Vanataurien ]

[Carrûn]

Awyrgan had long finished his meal & offered to aid the server in clearing his place but quickly realized that that was not his domain and politely excused himself.

He had noticed a few new visitors as he rose from his seat, one in particular caught his eye. Couldn't be, he told himself. Still...

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, remembering his brief morning discussion with Aman. Both had agreed that the man would be of little use in the kitchen or as a server, and she had tasked him to find Derufin; assuming that the handyman would have more use for him.

He had offered to aid with the drinks in preparation for the upcoming party if he was still in the region when the date arrived.

He stepped outside into the light and the Sun shone down brightly, chiding him for staying inside so late. "A fine day," he remarked quietly to himself. He glanced around. Now to find Derufin.

[Beren87]

Beren silently sipped back his ale, feet up as he reclined in the lovely rocking chair present in his room. He laughed silently to himself remembering the innkeeper's obvious concern over his monetary situation. That, thankfully, was one thing he wouldn't have to worry about for quite a bit. His purses were many, and most all were still full, even though the trip had been a long one. He was crafty, if nothing else, so even if his money did run out eventually, there shouldn't be too much of a problem earning more in this pleasant little town.

He carefully observed his surroundings, the warmth of the small coals in the hearth going through him. There wasn't even a draft coming from the window, the building was made quite well. The table to one side had 4 chairs sitting around it, but being the newcomer he was, he doubted there would be much entertaining going on. He idly twirled the key through his fingers, debating whether or not to rest up here or to go down and mingle with the rest of the guests. His form was slightly daunting here, being among the hobbits, but he admired the little people's general acceptance of strangers, be they truly strange in shape. Even the lovely innkeeper seemed to be of at least Rohanesse decent.

In the end he decided instead to order up a good lunch for himself from the cook. Hopefully she would have some scraps left over from dinner that he could eat. He knew such inns didn't like to cook entire new meals just for one guest, so there was no bother with that. A traveler can't be picky, that's what the ones who had come back told him during their stories when he was a child. He had always loved listening to this stories, he'd know what he wanted to do his entire life, because of them.

"Ah, and I've finally gone about it too. A traveler! What a life" he silently exclaimed to himself, the words cutting the silence in the room. He arose out of the chair, and proceeded to clean himself up the best he could with the water bowl in his room.

"Well, traveling is certainly wonderful, but it does play horrid things with my features."

[Envinyatar]

With a nod to Cami, Derufin excused himself from the group and rushed after Halfred as he wove his way down the path to the main road. Had they been looking at the ill- matched pair, they might have seen the Man crouch down and steady the wobbly kneed Hobbit, a searching look on his face as he spoke a few words. And they might have noted how the Hobbit looked blankly at the Man, then smiled and nodded as he patted the pockets of his vest. They would have seen the Man’s eyes light up with anticipation as he took the letter the Hobbit had finally fished so clumsily from his breeches pocket. Seen how he held it gently, his fingers running over the ink that noted his name . . . seen how he tucked it in the waistband of his breeches beneath his tunic, and how every so often his hand brushed past the edges of it.

But none of this was noted by anyone, and so it was a somewhat preoccupied Derufin who was hailed by Aman and who looked bemusedly at her as she made her odd request.

‘Clothes, you say?’ Derufin scratched his head and said he supposed he could offer the fellow a pair of breeches and a tunic. ‘I don’t suppose you could tell me if the man is anywhere near my height and size?’ Aman stepped back and eyeballed the stabler, making him turn in place. She threw up her hands at first, then her face brightened. ‘He had a serviceable belt, I think, and he can always roll the cuffs on the shirt and breeches if need be.’

‘Let me just look, then. I’ll bring them round this evening, before supper. What was his name?’

A look of mild amusement crept on his face as he heard her tone of voice. ‘Beren,’ she said, rolling the sound of it about in her mouth, savoring the taste of the syllables. ‘Beren,’ she said firmly, then, looking up at Derufin’s face, a look of defiance set behind her eyes.

He put his outspread hands toward her as he backed away, toward the stable, an ill-concealed grin on his face. ‘Beren, it is then, m’lady.’ He turned and made to go in to his quarters, but his mischievous side surfaced and he turned back to her with a wink. ‘Oh, and if it just so happen you should see said Beren before I do, just tell him Derufin will see to him this evening . . . and take his measure, so to speak . . .’

Not waiting for her reply, Derufin hurried off to the stable . . . laughing as he heard her mutter an epithet of the Mark to his retreating form.

‘Cheeky ba . . .’

[ July 16, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[piosenniel]

‘If Falco Bobbin is coming, I’m bound to make my chicken and dumplings and Gammer Chubb’s apple crisp.’ Cook thumbed through her recipe book and jotted down a few ingredients she would need for the expected visitor. Ruby and Buttercup looked at one another as she did so, waiting for the opportune moment to ask a question.

Cook put down her pen, and Ruby nudged Buttercup in the side, nodding at Cook. Buttercup stepped forward, clearing her throat, and spoke. ‘Does this mean we will be expecting Falco this evening for supper, Miz Vinca?’

Vinca chewed on the end of her pen and nodded her head. She paused then looked up at Buttercup. ‘Is there some particular reason you need to know that?’ Ruby blushed and stuttered out a few words about needing to get the Triple-X brandy up for the crisp, and Buttercup started to giggle. ‘I see,’ said Cook, dotting the last ‘i’ on her list.

She smiled, sweeping the two now silent Hobbits with her gaze. ‘His father, you know, was considered the best looking lad in the Westfarthing.’ A dreamy look softened the features of her face. ‘And his Grandfather, now there was a looker! Not a lad could hold a candle to him in all four of the Farthings.’ Cook drummed her fingers on the table in a familiar rhythm. ‘Best dancer in the Westfarthing . . . I can tell you that.’ She bent over her list and added a few more items, as Ruby and Buttercup looked askance at one another.

Ruby opened her mouth to ask one more question, but was cut off by Cook’s admonition. ‘Best we get started on things, girls. Those Bobbin boys never did like their meals late, or their lasses to forward.’ She nodded at each of them, her brows raised in confirmation.

‘Yes. Ma’am,’ came the twin reply as they hurried off to gather what was needed, their heads bent together, whispering, with the occasional long look at Cook who seemed cast in a new and more interesting light to them.

___________________________________________

Cook mixed up two large pans of apple crisp, adding a large tot of brandy to each. She popped them in the oven to bake while she plucked the four old hens and one rooster that Derufin had delivered to her. She had wheedled him into sticking about and helping her. And soon he found himself elbow deep in feathers and innards.

‘What do you think Eodwine would want in the northwest corner of the Shire, Cook?’ he asked her, his attention focused for the most part on abstracting the stubborn pinfeathers. ‘Never been there myself,’ he said, hanging his latest plucked hen up by the feet from the line in the yard to bleed out completely.

‘I’m surprised you haven’t,’ returned Cook, taking the cleaver to disjoint her chicken. ‘Lake Nenuial is up there – in the hills of Evendim.’ She looked at him expectantly.

He nodded his head slowly. ‘The old tales, isn’t it?’ He picked up another hen, and set to work on it. ‘Annuminas! Now I recall it. The city of the Kings of Arnor. Elendil’s city.’ ‘You know,’ he said thoughtfully, his fingers slowed to a halt against the feathers of the hen’s back, ‘there has long been a rumor, since Elessar took the throne, that he would restore that ancient city of Men.’ He shrugged and picked up the pace of his plucking. ‘I wonder if it’s true? And if so, did Eodwine know about these plans?’

Derufin turned these thoughts over in his mind, itching to know what was in the man’s satchel. What sort of light would the contents throw on the disappearance of the man from Rohan. Cook’s voice broke in on his thoughts, scattering his wonderings with the downy feathers floating on the late afternoon breeze.

‘Let’s get these into the pot and stewing with the herbs and onions.’ She poked him in the ribs with her finger tip. ‘And you can make up the dough for the dumplings, my good sir. You did well enough with the biscuits the night you pitched in – might as well learn the trick of these.’ She winked at him, and herded him into the kitchen. ‘Makes you more attractive as a husband if you can cook as well as stand about and look pretty.’ She cackled at his discomfiture, and taking the hens from his hands, threw him an apron followed by the key to the pantry.

‘Flour’s on the bottom shelf, left,’ she reminded him, wondering if his ears would burst into flame, should they turn any redder . . .

[ July 17, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Please Note Time change

It is now late mid-afternoon in the Shire.

[Everdawn]

The side of Scylla's mouth twitched as if to smile and she sat down with a great sigh of relief. Niniel had invited her to join them and she was greatful. It wasnt often that you met decent folk on the road, and Scylla had her fair share of ill-dealings.


Scylla sat down before first switching her eyes around the room. There were many men of the south here, and it partly made her nervous, however, if she was, it did not show on her face. Nineil seemed rather scared at her sudden appearance. Scylla switched her sharp eyes back. "Im sorry if i seem a little on the rough side, my occupation allows little time for me to relax you see."


Her personality soon made her seem warm. "So" she said taking her turn to speak. "What of both of you? Where are you form? what do you do? how many men have you killed?" Scylla had said this in good nature, and would have taken it as successful if it had not been for the sudden intake of breath at the table and the looks on Chrestienne and Nineil's faces. "What?" asked Scylla and then realising her mistake spoke again "I mean, i was only playing, you havent killed anyone of course, i mean... i mean i really have not well not technically anyway." now it was Scylla's time to stumble, she stopped and started again. "What i mean to say is, where do you all come from, what of your houses?" and sat with a smile across her happy face.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel smiled, a little flustered at Scylla's light-hearted treating of the subject of killing men. A joke? Just playing? The idea frightened her. Not just that Scylla could say something like that and mean it only as a joke, but that it seemed that, to Scylla at least, the idea was not as foreign as it was to the gentle Niniel.

"I--I don't know where I--I'm from. I d-don't remember. I--I can't remember any of it," she stammered, looking around a little frantically. She had been used to Soronume's protection at the other table, and now that he was not here, was floundering on how to answer without seeming too strange.

Scylla seemed to be friendly; was her slip earlier just a bad-mannered joke as she said? Or did it mean something about the woman that Niniel didn't want to think about. Niniel tugged on her braided hair, and smiled again, nervously.

[ July 17, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Kaldir’s gray stallion had backed away with indignant snorts from the invading hobbit, trying to get a better view of the swift moving creature. Thinking this rather fortunate, Gilly had then checked the floor for something, a sign of Benia, some clue about Kaldir perhaps. She didn’t especially like horses, never had any call to be so near one before. But she had to admit this was a fine one, so tall and imposing, albeit a bit skittish.

Gilly had swept quickly along the floor; the horse uneasy with the hobbit’s agitated demeanor had continued to back up toward the wall all the while.

With some trepidation Gilly had drawn abreast the beast’s dappled side, stooping low to search the among shadows. She was most discouraged that she found naught but that the stall needed cleaning on that side particularly, and thus had failed to notice Nico’s head swing around to attack her flank, so to speak.

The hobbit shot upright in response, hitting her head rather hard against her assailant’s ribs.

“Oh you vicious brute!” she had snapped retreating, for the horse had begun bobbing up and down on it's front legs, muttering his own abuse before rearing up on his hind legs to launch a fresh assault. Each lunge had brought him closer to Gilly as she made her hasty departure. She could hear the angry beast's hooves batter the stall door with emphasis after she had ran out of the stable.

Clack, clack, thud. Clack, clack, thud. Clack, clack, slosh, crack!

I see he's found his water bucket, Gilly had thought. Perhaps it will quench his temper as well!
Hand on her injured hind quarters, the winded hobbit painfully crossed the yard toward the inn.

[Ealasaid]

Outside the inn in the small grove of trees, Kaldir stood silently, fully concealed in the shadows. After having carried the injured Lespheria in from the barn, he had followed Vanwe out again into the trees with the intention of capturing her, should the opportunity arise, while she was isolated among the trees and preoccupied with her search for herbs. He had watched her grubbing about the earth with her little knife, all the while moving in silently, closer and closer to her position. He smiled to himself. A little knife like that would offer her no protection, at least not from him. The other one, Benia Nightshade, had had a knife, too. He had it now, and was a little loathe to part with it. Made by a skilled Haradrim artisan, the blade was sharp and of high quality steel. The sheath, too, was a thing of beauty, the leather intricately tooled and inlaid with silver and lapis lazuli. He had been lucky enough to find it concealed on her person before leaving her alone in the empty cellar of the old Smith's shop. If he hadn't, she could have cut herself loose in no time.

He was just closing in on Vanwe, when he felt the distinct sensation that someone else was present in the wood, watching. Kaldir melted back into the foliage, allowing Vanwe to slip away again. He watched as she ran back to the inn with her small harvest of herbs. Once she had vanished inside, he closed his eyes, opening his senses to his surroundings. Someone was definitely there in the wood with him, someone with a strong energy. Someone of whom he should be wary. He opened his eyes again. It would be wise to remain alert. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, as his pale eyes scanned the wood around him.

[ July 17, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaid ]

[Elora]

Vanwe remained for as long as she could, Lespheria sleeping through the exhaustion of the morning's turmoil. She had the distinct impression that Amandur was trying to pluck information from her, without openly doing so. Vanwe herself thought she knew nothing of value and worriedly answered as best she could. She knew how people in positions of authority reacted to evasion. Her time spent in Umbar and Gondor had made that clear.

So she walked a thin line between honesty and trying to dispel whatever uncertainty Amandur harboured about her. The questions about her father she met with blank expression, for she knew nothing. She had been told he was dead. The questions about her mother, indirect as they were, she was guarded about and offered little. Vanwe set a folded cloak on the table where other possessions had been neatly packed and excused herself at the first opportunity.

"I have duties in the stables that I have not yet seen to. Lespheria still sleeps. I will return later to see how she fares, if you will Lord." Amandur watched her curtsy and inwardly sighed. Vanwe had proved as communicative as a stone, but whether it was deception or innocence he could not yet say. He nodded, dissatisfied and released her with, "Yes, perhaps that is best. We may yet have need of you later."

Vanwe nodded, cast an almost longing look at Lespheria who could perhaps vouch for her and dispell Amandur's doubts, and left the room. Wrapped in her thoughts, she patted the pouch in which the key to Lespheria's room had been placed and wound through the inn, an island amidst the crowd. When she pushed through the entrance and stood on the outside steps of the inn, Vanwe breathed deeply to shake the cobwebs from her thoughts.

She was not sure if she should avoid Amandur altogether or not. Certainly, Lespheria trusted him, but he seemed to look at her with a knowledge that pierced. She did not know what he saw, and it troubled her. Looking about and catching the stable building, Vanwe felt the stab of guilt at her neglect of her duties. She tucked errant strands of hair behind her ears, no time to braid it back out of her eyes, and set off across the courtyard for the stables.

She heard a distinctly hobbit-like voice curse a horse that seemed to be restless and skittish. Yet she could see noone just yet who owned the voice she had heard. With a faint frown, Vanwe entered the stables and made for the skittish horse. Kaldir's horse, she realised with a start and paused. Gripping her skirts, Vanwe pushed herself onwards, and came face to face with a very put out Gilly, who scowled at Vanwe as she stared at the hobbit in patent surprise.

"What are you doing here," Gilly whispered.
"My work," Vanwe replied in a mystified voice. Gilly levelled a frankly suspicious glare at Vanwe, and Vanwe blinked at it's force. Gilly was clearly upset.

"I'll bet you are! Do it somewhere else," she urged Vanwe, none too happily.
"But what are you doing," Vanwe pressed, eyeing the skittish horse and wondering how long it would be before it's owner appeared out of the shadows with a shiver of dread.
"That is none of your business, Miss," said Gilly. Her tone suggested Vanwe should know perfectly well.

Vanwe stared a little longer. "Go on, then," Gilly said, waving her hands at Vanwe in a shooing motion. Worry appeared in her small face, as if Vanwe was the individual to be fearful of. Vanwe stepped back, still bewildered.

"The horse may harm you," she said with the beginings of refusal to heed Gilly's command.
"I can handle the brute," said Gilly with admirable forced bravery. Vanwe held her hands up and surrendered. With a long look over her shoulder, she collected shovel and buckets in one hand and a half full sack of grain under the other arm and set off for the corraled horses behind the stables.

It was mid-afternoon already, she realised, and her stomach complained of it's emptiness just as the horses did when they saw her approach. They reprimanded her with reproachful snorts and mournful expressions as Vanwe cleared out what was left of the grain from the long wooden troughs that hung from the fence rung and replaced it with fresh feed to supplement the grass of the corral. Derufin would not be well pleased, and her cheeks were bright with her own remorse.

Once the heaviest of her burdens had been seen to, Vanwe set the now much lighter sack of grain down by her shovel as the horses greedily jostled at the new grain in the hanging trough. She picked up the buckets and walked further to where the water trough sat, fringed by vibrant green grass in the shade of the afternoon. It had been a hot day, by northern standards she supposed.

The trough showed the evidence of the horses' thirst and clearly needed to be filled. It was her own fault, and so she repressed a sigh and started the wearying task of ferrying water from well to trough. After the third trip, Vanwe was feeling distinctly light headed herself, having missed breakfast and lunch and now carrying the heavy water buckets back and forth.

Two more trips had the water replentished again, and Vanwe had to sit down. The sun was overbright and so she made for a pool of shade by a knot of trees. Gratefully, she sat beneath one, leaning against the bole of the tree and closing her eyes. Just a little rest, she told herself with yet more guilt and she would start on the rest of the day's work and then appear before Derufin who would surely be justified in discharging her from her duties.

She hadn't seen him all day. Just a little rest. The afternoon breeze sung through the trees and was cool against her face. It danced over another who was smiling with a predator's satisfaction and began to silently move with elven grace towards her prey. It whispered past a second, who was distracted between two quarries of a very different nature. Yet, his decision was made, and he too moved to that pleasant pool of shade that had called Vanwe.

[Kates Frodo Temp]

Soon she'll be home. Well, that's one less burden on my mind! Aietmen smiled to himself as he thought of Rosie. He would miss her, no doubt, when he got back on the road, but for now he was perfectly content. Mine is a lonely life, and there's no changing it.

The wood not far from the Inn was a perfect place to hide for a few days, and Aietmen had been taking full advantage. His knowledge of the forest, together with quiet visits to the nearby farms had kept the hobbit boy supplied in food.

Good job the weather's stayed clear for me! There's not much shelter here, and I don't much care to take another visit to the inn! Aietmen made a face, and laughed, thoughtfully. His experience had not been a pleasant one, and Aietmen could do without any more human company. Horse theif indeed! Yet, the place was somehow attracting.

Rosie must love it here. Everything is so quiet, and the people seem pleasant enough. Why did she ever leave, I wonder?

[littlemanpoet]

A jaunty hobbit came through the front door dressed in shirrif's garb. He was just out of his tweens. He sat at the bar and greeted Aman merrily, identifying himself as Falco Bobbin. She asked what he'd have and he answered, and she placed a frothy mug before him. He drank deep and set down the mug, letting out a happy sigh.

"Shirriffing's thirsty work, you know. O'course I knew The Green Dragon Inn was at the end of my trip from Michel Delving. And I'll tell you, it kept my spirits up, it did!" He grinned, his eyes twinkling.

"You're welcome here any time, Falco Bobbin." Aman had warmed to him already. Friendlier than most hobbits, she thought, and that's saying something! "I hear tell you have news, but I'd not rush you. Take your time!"

"Oh, aye. I'll just swallow me another drag o' this here brew (I've had no better mind you), an' you and any others who wants to can hear what I knows." He lifted his mug again and his face was refracted through the opaqueness of the clear mug and golden ale. Setting down his mug again he said, "Gather around who you might and I'll tell my story."

Aman spread the word and soon a little crowd surrounded the hobbit, among whom were two pair of hobbit-lass eyes fluttering prettily. Falco never gave on that he noticed, nor that he didn't. Leastways, he launched into his tale, and this was what his hearers learned.

A wanderer skirting the north of the Shire from east to west, came upon a satchel surrounded by hoof prints, foot prints, broken brambles, scuffed grass, and other signs that a fair number of folk had been there. It was enough for the traveler to make a guess that there had been a scuffle, there being dried blood on a stone. More than that was hard to say. Where it was, was about twenty mile north by west of Michel Delving.

"Up toward Lake Nenuiel?" One voice broached.

"So I've heard tell," Falco answered, "but there's no saying the footprints leading away went toward that Lake. Leastways, not according to our wanderer. You can ask what you like of him as he'll be here hisself on the morrow. There! That's an end to what I know. Tellin' my tale has made me hungry!"

"What was in the satchel, Falco?" That was Derufin.

"Nary but a harp, but broke like it'd been throwed away. Can't say as I'd toss mine own harp like that, if you take my meaning."

[Everdawn]

Scylla thought Nineil was making a jest at her. "What do you mean you dont know where you come from?" It seemed strange that one would be able to forget ones life. "No matter." she said waving her hand aside.

"We all have our faults. I myself am a horse trader, of Ithilien, of course since, well that isnt releavent for now is it?. If any time you have heard of a Rohan man say he has had a run-in with the Empress of Deception, it is most likely that he was reffering to me. Not that any of my horses are shifty, they are the best. Brumbies mostly, wild horses I have broken in down on my selection in the South of Gondor. It handles more business than one may think."


She smiled at the poor girl before her. "You were serious werent you! you really have no idea. Well what are you going to do? Surely there is someone who can tell you where you are from?"

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Someone who could tell her where she was from, tell her who she was? If there was such a person, she would have sought them out a long time ago. No, she feared that all her kin had died with her memories, nine years ago. She shook her head. "I--I am grateful f-for your concern, b-b-but I haven't known who I--I am for nine years now. I--I do not think I--I ever will."

Scylla looked at her quizzically. "I can't imagine how you wouldn't know who you are or where you came from. That's silly," she said.

Niniel shook her head again. "Not so silly," she countered. "Have you never heard of Turin Turambar and his sister, Nienor Niniel? Nienor lost her memories even as I, and...well, the rest of the story is not pleasant." In her anger, she failed to notice that for once her speech was clear, without a trace of a stutter. "I took my name from Niniel, and I will probably take another when I leave here."

[ July 18, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[Rochelle]

She remained seated, using what was left of the water in her canteen to work out the dirt on her boots. She'd remember to fill it back up before she departed once more. Her blades needed cleaning, but she would wait until she was by her lonesome to do anything of the sort. People got nervous real easy these days.

She bought a meager meal of bread and cheese from the innkeeper, and downed them heartily. She was hungry and that was a fact. She leaned back upon finishing, then went to stand. Quellë hated to be stabled, and she wouldn't make him stay there longer then necessary.

She tucked the stray strand of blonde back underneath her hood before moving to exit the inn. The sunlight was bold and she ducked her head, enabling to the hood to help shade her eyes. She made way to the stables and smirked when she heard adament squeals of distaste and bad temper. An occassional knock of hoof against wood was to be expected. She entered the dimly lit stable and placed a hand upon the stallions muzzle. Immediately calming him down, excluding the snort of disapproval that soon followed.