The Green Dragon Inn - Part 4

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Welcome Back to the Green Dragon Inn!~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

We had run out of pages on the third page of the topic. But here we are again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Carry on, Shirelings! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[ June 03, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[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.

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:

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

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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.

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[ June 03, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Please Note:

At present it is very late evening, early night in the Shire. Supper has been served, and patrons at the Inn are sitting about enjoying each other's company.

It is summer, the days are pleasant.

The Inn staff is starting to organize for the arrival of the former Innkeeper, Piosenniel and her husband and twin babies.

[piosenniel]

littlemanpoet’s post

Eodwine sat down before the hearth with a jar of nut brown ale in hand, stretched his long legs out, and sighed contentedly. So Cami's here. He smiled. Bustling about as much as ever. He would have to stop her in her tracks and catch up on news. It had been years! The fire crackled bright yellow and orange, and Eodwine watched the flames dance.

"Derufin, my friend, you go to too much trouble for one humble traveler." He brought the jar to his mouth and took a long pull, smacking his lips and audibly sighing. "I've not tasted ale this good in too long a time."

"They grow good crops here, they do." Derufin yawned. "And they know what to do with it, I'll give 'em that."

"So you hail from Gondor, I'm told." Eodwine studied the stableman's face over his ale jar. "You look my age, give or take. You were in the War, no?"

Derufin frowned and recrossed his legs. "Aye, that I was. A sorry business that turned out good, thanks to these merry folk." He forced a smile.

"Indeed! 'Tis one cause of my coming, to learn of them and befriend them. The War's my study. I'd know all I can of it. What was your part in it?"

[piosenniel]

Ealasaid’s post

"You must feel absolutely wretched wrapped up in all that drapery in this weather! I don't know how you can stand it!" Gilly blurted out at the sight of Benia's veil. "I'm sorry. It's just that it is so hot out. And... oh, never mind, I've put my foot in it again, haven't I? You'd have every right if you were unhappy with me! But tell me before banishing me, why are you veiled just now? Is something amiss?"

For a fleeting instant, Benia's amber eyes looked startled, then she began to laugh. The veil came down instantly. "I'm sorry, my cheeky friend," she said, still laughing and carefully wiping her eyes so as not smear kohl all over the place. "I was hiding from the world. It's a habit I have among strangers. The veil makes me feel safe and secure, even though it may be the farthest thing from the truth. You must find me terribly rude."

"Oh, no!" protested Gilly. "I was the rude one, calling you on the carpet like that. But, really, Benia, you do present quite an image, lurking about in the corners with your face all covered up."

"I must look quite the villainess," admitted Benia.

"Well..."

"Oh, I know. I just wasn't thinking." But suddenly, she looked pleased. "I believe you may have solved part of my mystery." Withdrawing her hand from the folds of her skirt, she handed Gilly a bunched up handkerchief. Gilly could feel the weight of something small and hard inside of it. "Have you ever seen one of these?"

As Gilly went to open the handkerchief, Benia added, "Be careful who sees it. It's an evil thing. It was slipped to me somehow in the common room last night, I think, because I look the part of a villain. I was hiding behind my veil just now and wondering why it had come to me of all people. Then you arrived and explained it for me. It's that hobbit-sense of yours, isn't it?"

Just then, another woman approached Gilly's and Benia's table from the bar. "May I join your table, kind peoples?" she asked. "For my companions have long since gone, and it is dull to sit by one's self."

Benia nodded graciously. "By all means!" She gestured to an empty chair. "We were just about to have dinner. Would you care to join us?" She knew Gilly would be discreet with the handkerchief and the stone.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin leaned back in his chair, his legs propped on the hearth. The stew had been excellent, the biscuits passable. ‘Not bad for a first try, though,’ he thought to himself. Ruby had come to collect his dishes, bringing the pitcher of ale with her. She topped his off when he held his tankard to her, then retreated to the kitchen to tidy up the dishes.

The heat of the little fire in the grate had warmed the soles of his boots, and he could feel the pleasant warmth of it on the bottoms of his feet. The single log glowed a deep orange-red at the heart of it. It popped and hissed, a single, small ember flying from it to land on the stonework near his feet. He leaned forward, flicking it back to the center of the flames.

The man from Rohan had sat down a pace from him, a jar of ale in hand. The sound of his voice pulled Derufin from a fleeting reverie as he stared at the wavering lines of heat thrown off at the fire’s core – lines of men marching, and on their faces the smiles of those who had not yet come to battle.

He pulled his eyes away, catching the words addressed to him.

‘Yes, Eodwine, you have the right of it. It’s from Gondor I hail. Near Ethring, in the Ringló Vale. His gaze shifted to the man, noting the lines etched at the corners of his eyes, the faint lines that creased his brow. ‘And yes, I do believe we are of similar age – I’m thirty-eight this year.’

‘You were in the War, no?’

Derufin frowned at this question, his eyes traveling back to the fire. Best give a short answer, and shift to something else, he thought.

"Aye, that I was. A sorry business that turned out good, thanks to these merry folk," he said, forcing a smile. ‘The War’s my study.’ He heard Eodwine say. Derufin’s brows raised at this statement. ‘A grim study of dark times,’ he thought to himself, wondering if such pursuits told of a man unscathed by shadow or belied a warrior seeking to make some sense of the horrors he had seen, the darkness that had touched him. His thoughts ran on. ‘Each to his own way,’ he murmured, thinking how he had dealt with his own memories by running from them.

‘What was your part in it?’

An innocent enough question, but one he was not ready to answer to someone he had barely met. He turned it aside, saying only that it had been a small enough part he had played. ‘Just some battles near the end, he said in a casual manner, ‘and then we went home, our duty done.’ His voice caught at the end, and he covered it with a deep breath and a drink of ale.

He put his feet on the floor, leaning forward in his seat. His tankard gripped tightly in his hands, Derufin stared intently at the bed of coals. He had wanted to shift the conversation away from this, but found he could not. He willed himself to relax as he asked his own question, speaking in a low, even voice.

‘And you, Eodwine, what part was yours?’

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

“Yes, please do join us, but I think we had better have our supper soon or go without!” Gilly said slipping the handkerchief in her pocket alongside the unopened envelope. It reminded her greatly of the small bundles she was presented with when her children were losing their teeth. “ I thought I heard that they have already run out of buttered peas and I just know those lovely biscuits will be next!”

“I have already supped, but would keep you company while you enjoy your meal. I do not mind,” said the woman taking the chair offered by Benia. “I am known as Aleia.”

“Well met Miss Aleia, I am Gilly Banks of Bywater and this is my dear old friend Miss Benia who has come to the Shire for a visit. Please make yourself comfortable, and if you will excuse me for just a minute I will go see if I can scrounge up something for us to eat or we won’t be able to hear each other over the roar of my stomach!” Gilly thus excused herself and quickly made her way to the kitchen, thinking as she went that this was the second time in as many days that she no sooner met someone than went directly off in search of food! But food is such a pleasant and comforting necessity! She thought.

As she rounded the corner to the kitchen she quite literally ran into Ruby, who carrying a dishrag had been on her way to wipe down tables. Gilly flushed red from embarrassment and apologized profusely. After some rather awkward conversation, Ruby helped supply Gilly with two plates and followed her back to the table carrying the cutlery and cups of mead. “Thank you so much for the help Ruby,” she said as she arranged the items on the table.

“Here we go,” said Gilly “Now that didn’t take long did it?”

[ June 03, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Aleia watched as Gilly ran off, and then turned to Benia. "I do hope she finds something," she said with a smile, patting her stomach. Benia grinned and said "Ah...as hobbitish as the next! So where do you hail from, Aleia?"

"Well, being a Took, I come from Tookland. I was tired of the conventional hobbit life so I became a wanderer with my pony Skeet. We've had a grand ole time wandering about, but sometimes you do get a hankering for a good ole mug of ale back in the Shire. But what about you and Gilly? Where do you two hail from?"

[Maegaladiel]

Together the three friends returned to the main hall of the Green Dragon. Nahai's legs felt wobbly as she pondered the words of her friends. Was this elf a friend or foe?

Morwyn nudged her gently in the ribs with her elbow. She gave a slight nod towards the table where the elf in question had seated himself. Swallowing hard, Nahai walked over to him, false confindence being forced into each step.

The mysterious gentlelf's face was turned away from her, staring blankly out of the window. He looked injured and travel-worn, but she reminded herself that appearances could be decieving. One hand placed on the hilt of her sword, she gathered up her courage and approached him. She cleared her throat to get his attention.

The elf turned to the noise. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, both said nothing. Morwyn and Annalalaith watched as their faces turned pale, almost as though they had seen a ghost.

"Nahai?" the elf said in wonderment. Tears formed at the corners of the Beorning's emerald eyes.

"Celecu." she whispered. He rose from the table, and in one fluid movement, they fell into each other's arms. For several long, beautiful moments, they remained like this, blind to the stares of other patrons. Finally Nahai pulled away, trying to get a look at her long lost love. He held her at arm's length, doing the same.

His face was just as she remembered. Dirtier, perhaps, and now decorated by a thin white scar on one cheek, but it was the same old Celecu that she had met years ago in Mirkwood. Her gaze swept him up and down, landing on his injured leg and tattered clothing.

"That looks terrible!" she exclaimed, not quite realizing what she was saying. He smiled, all traces of age and weariness melting from his fair elven visage.

"Nice to see you too," he commented in his musical voice. They laughed. Suddenly, Nahai remembered Morwyn and Annalalaith. They stood behind her, somewhat uncomfortably.

"Forgive me," the Beorning said, "This is my love, Celecu. Celecu, these are my dear friends, Morwyn and Annalalaith." He bowed politely to them, giving a traditional elven greeting.

"Forgive me if I seemed to stare at you earlier," he told Morwyn, "But that flute you had, it looks just like one I gave to Nahai."

Waiting for the women to reply, Celecu's hand slipped into Nahai's. They had both found what they had lost.

[Legolas'_girl]

Outside the inn, a figure, cloaked and hooded, could be seen tying its horse to a post before heading inside. As the figure walked through the door, it pulled back its hood to reveal a young Elven girl.

Her hair was long and light brown and her eyes were a soft grey. Her long, silvery-grey Lorien cloak reached down to her ankles and covered an outfit of tan and forest green.

Every aspect of her character was Elvish, except for one thing: she was not as tall or as slender as most Elves. This was because she was half-elven and her father was not a tall man. This lack of hight attracted a few puzzled stares, but she seemed to take no notice as she walked towards the bar.

Finding the innkeeper, she obtained a place for the night and went back outside to stable her horse and retrieve her light pack. Coming back into the inn, she spied the bartender and made her way to the bar. She ordered a drink and took it with her to a chair at a table by herself and listened to news and the tales of other travelers.

She became quite interested in the affairs of a few hobbits at a table next to hers and wondered greatly at what could be in the handkerchief. More out of curiousity than want of companionship, the young Elf got up and moved towards their table. In response to their questioning looks, she said in a soft voice, "My name is Melcirial, and I wonder if maybe I could join you?"

[ June 04, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Himaran]

The Inn's door slammed open, and a dwarf sauntered into the commons room. Looking about him, and finding no familier faces present, he proceeded to hang his coat on the wall, and place his hefty axe next to it. He took great care when handling the weapon, blowing the dust off of the hilt and polishing the single-headed blade on his rusty brown traveler's tunic. "Ah, so good to be back here after all these years."

Bali, for that was his name, was a young and friendly dwarf. He, unlike others of his race, had nothing against the elven folk. In fact, he had gone on many long expeditions with them, and forged deep friendships with several. After several years of travelling and war, he had returned to his favorite Inn to seek peace and rest.

Settling himself into seat at the bar, he ordered a drink and a light meal. He took a deep draft of the ale while he chatted amiably with the waiter. "Sir, tell me, is Piosenniel the Innkeeper about? Her and I are old friends."

The bar-tender smiled. "Oh, Pio? Well, she ain't the Inn-keeper anymore. A young rohanian woman's in charge now, named Aman. But if you stay for a while, you might be in luck. Pio's expected to arrive here in a few days or so."

"Good, I'll certainly be staying. Say, where is this Aman. I'd like to meet her, and anyway I need to secure a room for the night, and more perhaps."

The man looked around him before answering. "Well, she's here and there you know. Just wait around here; if I see her I'll direct you to her."

[ June 03, 2003: Message edited by: Himaran ]

[Katt b]

Waen went quickly to her room,she gathered up her few belongings. Which consist of her worn leather travelling bag,bow and quiver and Kitathas' feed bag.

Waen glanced at Kit who had landed on the bed post when she entered.She looked at Waen and screeched a soft cry."I'm sorry Kit!! I have not been paying you very much attention since we arrived here.I promise we will go hunting together or We will go for a run.Would you like that?" Waen reached out her arm and the small graceful hawk glided to her forearm.

Waen stroked her feathers while whispering to her softly,her way of comforting the hawk,as she had always done when they were alone."Shall we go down to the Common room for awhile before we head outside?" Kit only cooed a little from the petting.

She strapped everything to her back,looked around the room and left,closing the door behind her.As Waen entered the Common room she saw Eodwine talking with the stable man,she had not heard his name. So she decided to get some ale and see if she could join them by the fire.

She thanked the Bartender for the ale,paid and turned to make her way to the fire Kitathas now on her shoulder.Waen approached quietly,as was her way.The men had paused in their conversation."Excuse me gentleman but may I accompany you by this lovely fire?" Waen flashed one of her shy but radiant smiles waiting for a response.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine was about to answer Derufin's question when the Elven lady Waen came to the fire, her wild hawk on her shoulder, asking if she could join them; that infectious smile came to her lips. Eodwine rose in deference to her race and gender (court manners never far away). Derufin eyed his stilted behavior with mild amusement.

"Lady. You honor us with your company. Please take a seat."

She sat near Eodwine and somewhat across from Derufin; Kit, her hawk, eyed the man from Rohan with a glare quite natural for the hawk, no doubt, but Eodwine found it just a little unnerving.

"Derufin was just asking me what I did during the War." He grinned to her, and her hawk, then to the stableman. "Please stop me the moment I begin to bore you. But not with your beak, please, he glanced at the hawk.

"I was stationed near the Isen, under Theodred, eldest son of King Theoden of Rohan. I was in the skirmish that killed Theodred and many others, but somehow I escaped harm.

"I was ordered to Helm's Deep and there I saw the one who became Elessar, King of Gondor and Arnor. And I saw the famous Dwarf and Elf in his company; and, of course, Gandalf Stormcrow; Mithrandir, as he is better known to you. I did not speak with them, but saw them from a distance. Many soldiers lost their lives in Saruman's attack on Helm'd Deep, and I took a mere scratch on my leg, but it was nothing.

"I road with King Theoden to the fields of Pelennor. Somehow I escaped all harm at that battle, and 'tis a wonder to me even today.

"Last, I traveled with King Eomer to the Gates of Morannon, and was in that final battle of the War. I was sorely wounded in the side and lying amongst the orcs I had killed, thought I would surely die, but the foe was vanquished, his armies fled, and I was healed. I am told that King Elessar came to me as I lay wounded, though I never wakened while he was near and so knew nothing of it.

"Once healed, I joined the celebration of the passing of the Dark Lord, and then went home." Eodwine's face had been intent and eager so far as he related his tale. Now he became somber. "I returned home to find that orcs and Dunlendings had sacked my home and village, and murdered my wife, my daughter, and my son." Derufin had been listening as peaceably as one may about war, sipping at his nut brown ale and staring into the fire, but at this point he turned his head, his ale forgotten, and watched Eodwine's melancholy face.

"I was not the only one. We buried our kin in a great mound and mourned their loss, then vowed to hunt down and kill every orc within thirty leagues of the Isen, west or east. We would have taken vengeance on the Dunlendings too, but there was the King's truce, so we let be. Still, we keep a guard on our lands and we do love them. Nor trust them.

"Though I lost much, I do not regret my part in the War, and in all my journeys I keep my ears open for the tales of heroic deeds that sprang from it. There are many." Eodwine was about to launch into one when he saw Derufin's cavernous yawn. "But the night is getting on and I don't want to strain your ears with all my stories."

Derufin stood suddenly. "I'm off to bed, much work to do in the morning. Good night to the both of you." He glanced at Eodwine. "Your bed's all set in the stable." He turned to Waen. "Beg pardon, lass, I know you offered your own room, but seems the Innkeeper's set on stowing the two of us together." Waen nodded and gave him her winning smile, saying it mattered not to her.

Eodwine bid Derufin good night and turned to Waen. "I am told that you come from the land of the Sorceress, and lived there during the War?"

[ June 04, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Annalaliath]

As Annalaliath looked on the happy encounter she felt glad for her friend. At the same time, however, she felt a wave of jealousy. She would never find her family or find love, that is how her life seemed. It had been the same for most of her long life. She felt the tears welling up. The feeling in her chest was a mounting pressure, that she fought to hold back.

Smiling weakly she said, "Mae Govannen." Then she sat down and burried her nose in a drawing. The ink dripping and flying as she drew fluidly, and clumsily maybe. She continued to draw furiously. She did not understand why she had been alone most of her life. Now she had friends, and she did not understand why she felt the way she had.

Bowing her head; with a sharp intake of breath, she isolated the thought. The cause of this feeling. The memory of her friend and once lover. They had fallen away and he had been married.

Feeling the jealousy and remorse, and anger swell up. She stood up, " If I may be excused I will go take a walk now." Avoiding Morwen's and Nahi's eyes she walked quickly out into the evening. Hugging herself she started to walk through the Shire. As she walked she gained speed and soon was running; running by Hobbits and others alike. When she came to an empty field she stopped and looked around . Down the road in the distance she saw the Green Dragon small and inviting. She needed her time alone from Nahi and her lover to calm down. She knew that if she hadn't left she would have exploded all over them, and spoiled the moment.

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

[ June 08, 2003: Message edited by: Annalaliath ]

[Ealasaid]

"Where do you two hail from?" asked Aleia.

"My friend Gilly is from Bywater," answered Benia. "But, as for where I hail from, I would have to say the wider world. I was born in the desert and have been back many times since, but my home is wherever I happen to lay down my pack." She smiled warmly. "But a wandering hobbit! That is a rarity! How do you find the world has treated you on your travels?"

Before Aleia had a chance to respond, Gilly came bustling back from the kitchen, carrying two plates of food, closely followed by Ruby Brown with their cutlery and mead. Thanking Ruby for her assistance, Gilly arranged the supper on the table for herself and Benia. "Here we go!" she said happily. "Now that didn't take long, did it?"

"Not at all!" agreed Benia. "I find myself in your debt again. The next meal we share together, I must insist that you allow me to fetch it! I am beginning to feel like a spoiled Lady of the Court rather than just a dusty vagabond." She smiled again, a bit rogueishly this time. The firelight sparkled against the silver coins of her facial jewelry, giving her a mysterious and not altogether respectable - by hobbit standards - look. She dropped Gilly a quick wink.

"Aleia of Tookland was just about to tell us of her travels," she informed Gilly. "I was curious to know how the wide world treats a traveling hobbit."

"Oh, marvelous!" Gilly responded. "Having done so little traveling myself, I would be very interested to hear it. Please -" she addressed Aleia. "Do go on!"

Aleia, again, opened her mouth to speak, but the voice they heard next was not the voice of a hobbit. A young elflady had appeared alongside the table's one empty chair. It was she who spoke next. "My name is Melcirial," she said softly. "And I wonder if maybe I could join you?"

Ever the proper hostess, Gilly nodded pleasantly and gestured to the empty chair. "Welcome, Melcirial! Do pull up a chair. Have you eaten supper yet? We were just beginning ours, but I'm sure if we step lightly, we can procure another plate."

"Of course, we can. Do make yourself comfortable," rejoined Benia. "I am called Benia Nightshade. These good hobbits are Gilly Banks of Bywater and Aleia - Took, I presume? - of Tookland."

[lore_master]

The man named Arthas sat in a corner smoking his pipe, away from most of the other guests.

Arthas, or Orcsbane as he was caled in the army of Rohan, apeared to be around his late 30's, he had red hair with streaks of gold in it. his eyes were a greenish color, and had seen many of his comrades die in battle.
his face was stern, and had not laughed for many months.

Arthas then moved torward the group that had gathered by the front of the common room, and introduced himself "greatings, my name is Arthas, i come from Rohan, and am seek of some company, i have been alone for many weeks now, since my regiment in the army got slaughtered by some renegades. "

"barkeep, may I have an Ale here"

[Phervasaion]

Phervasaion was walking through the woods, and, as usual was making very little noise using his Ranger abilities. As he came to a opening in the woods he looked upon the Green Dragon inn, the finest Inn in the Shire as far as he was concerned.

He opened the doors to see the inn was as busy as ever with hobbits and other races enjoying their time there. He then looked to the counter and saw there was a new innkeeper.

"I havn't been here for a long time," said Phervasaion quietly. He ordered an ale and then slumped down in the nearest chair, placed his sword next to him and gulped down his ordered ale in a matter of moments. It was a long time since he had visited an inn.

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

Aleia moved over to make room for the newcomer. Melcirial sat down and smiled hesitantly. Benia cleared her throat and said, "Well, Aleia was just about to tell us of her travels in the wild world. Continue, if you please."

Aleia grinned--like she often did--and began a tale. "Well, one time when I was just oustide of Rohan, it was a dark, windy, and chilly night..."

After Aleia finished her tale and her ale had been drunk, she sat back and sighed in contentment, shutting her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her comerades were looking at her with upraised brows and faces of surprise. Melcirial said softly, "Wow! That actually happened to you?"

"Well...most of it," answered Aleia. Her companions laughed and shook their heads. Aleia turned to Ruby, who was just passing by, and asked for a mug of tea. Ruby complied and in a few moments the steaming mug was brought to her. Aleia inhaled the rich scent and sighed. Looking about, she asked, "What of you, Melcirial? What is your story? Let us hear it!"

[ June 04, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Alatariel rode up to the Inn on her horse, this time was not the same white mare. 'Twas a black stallion, the darkest black you could ever see, no white spots. She rode him towards the Inn's stables. Alatariel put him in a stall, and walked towards the Inn.

Arriving inside, she walked over to the bar and ordered a glass of red wine, and then sat down again. She sat their waiting, for someone to come.

[Nerindel]

After Léspheria had finnished her evening meal, Buttercup had found her and asked her if she wouldn't mind helping out again.

"Miz Aman and Cami are tryin' to find more rooms an' Ruby is off helping Deufin with something" the flustered hobbit woman explained

"off course, it would be my pleasure" she smiled.

Buttercup sighed with relief as the elven woman rose, "here you'll be needin this" she said holding out a brown leather waitressing apron. Lespheria took the apron from Buttercup and tied it about her waist, it had two pockets on the front for carrying coins.

"There now you look the part, come, come" she urged pulling on her hand, she lead her to the bar and showed her were everything was

"All the prices are on the board, there" she said pointing to a large black board that hung on the wall behind the bar.

"Here you can start with this" she Passed Léspheria a large round wooden tray, then filled two large metal jugs, one had a nut brown frothy ale in it "The Shire's finest" buttercup told her, the other held a sweet smelling golden beverage that the hobbit had called Cider. The hobbit then placed both jugs on the tray. "on you go then" she smiled.

laughing lightly léspheria weaved in and out of the now crowded tables, lifting empty mugs and refilling any that wanted it. as time went by the coins in her apron pocket started to jingle as she walked, she had been so busy that she had bearly noticed when Ruby and Aman returned to the common room.

The evening was waning when Léspheria's sharp grey eyes spotted someone in the crowd that she recognised, she tilted her head to be sure that she was right, 'Yes, I'm sure that he is the kings messenger 'she thought trying hard to recall his name.

"Miz! Miz!" the dwarf she was serving cried as the ale she was pouring over flowed the mug and was running towards the edge of the table. "oh! I'm so sorry" she appologised mopping up the spilled ale with a cloth that she had put in her pocket earlier.

As she looked up she saw Deufin leaving the Rohirrim mans company, but he was not alone the small elven woman that her brother had spoken to the night before was with him.

Eodwine! the name suddenly came to her.
As an emissary for the lords of Rivendell, she had been to many places and meet many people. She had met Eodwine several times in the courts of both Gondor and Rohan. She remembered his unquenchable thirst for knowledge, Especially the history of the war, she had spent much time on one visit to Rohan telling him about the fall of Dol Guldor, when she and a few other elves of Rivendell had went to Lorien to aid their fellow kin, that she had nearly missed the meeting that she had been sent to attend.

'I must find time that I may speak with him again for I am sure he will have new tales to tell' she thought to herself as she finnished mopping up the spilled ale and taking the silver pennies the dwarf had given her, she then turn and walked to the next table to see if it occupants needed their drinks refreshed.

[ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Elora]

Blackveil tossed her spirited head as Vanwe lifted her hand towards the horse's now. Silvanis seemed to slightly nod at his horse's display of mettle and Vanwe dropped her hand.

"Fiesty," she commented. "I did not wish to unsettle her," she added. If this was how horses reacted to the new assistant in the stable, then Vanwe had a lot of learning to do and quickly before Derufin realised she would likely cause mayhem with his equine charges. Silent, Silvanis studied her as she let her hand fall away and Vanwe held still. He was waiting for something, she sensed. Occassionally his wary gaze would flicker over her shoulder, and the impulse to turn and see what may be approaching behind her itched between her shoulder blades.

The habit of looking over one's shoulder was a one deeply ingrained upon her, and a dead giveaway of the legitimacy of her ventures abroad. Instead, Vanwe gathered her thoughts and began as best she could with the mysterious and hopefully favourably inclined man before her.

"I should thank you, sir... twice over. Once for not mentioning the name on the paper you found in the stable before Derufin. Twice for a night in the south, where your silence kept at least part of my hide attached to my back the morning after the feast."

The memory of the beating, one of the more savage examples of community justice for an outcast, was another thing that itched her shoulderblades, in memory of the injuries that healed in the intermidible heat and sand.

"You could easily on both counts have me jailed, or worse. I do not know your name, or why you would do this... and you know many things about me... my village, my parents... My name is Vanwe, and I am endebted to you, sir."

Vanwe bowed deeply, in the only manner she knew, the manner of Far Harad. She took a step backwards, glided to her knees, bent forward until her brow touched the cooling grass and as smoothly rose again. As she straightened her lithe frame, Vanwe's thoughts leapt about. She had a debt to this man, and she was about to ask of him yet more. She still could not know if Silvanis had some connection with her village. Her mother had paid the elders handsomely at the time to take and keep from the world her infant daughter. Failure to keep such trust would be met with considerable displeasure from a woman that was considered more Demon than Elf. They would be prepared to see to Vanwe's return before Naiore discovered her daughter was abroad and not safely tucked into oblivion.

Standing and speaking with Silvanis in the evening was a considerable risk if they had sent him on her trail. Yet the very reason she had risked the journey was what kept her in place and confirming her identity. If he was not hunting her, he had what she needed and he may also have word of the south, of a village in the sands and those that may yet seek her. He had all she knew of her parents, and all that she needed to know.

Vanwe endured his silence, remaining in place and measuring him as he measured her. The merry sound of the evening that floated out from the inn seemed distant to her, not quite real, and she was cast back to that night as she stared at his face with wide blue eyes.

[Envinyatar]

The moon sat low on the eastern horizon, barely clearing the tips of the trees. Its light shone down in the stable yard, puddling among the shadows of the two tall trees that stood there. It was a warm, breezeless night, made warmer by the amount of ale he had consumed and the heat generated by the crowd in the Common Room.

Derufin walked slowly across the expanse of grass and dirt from the Inn to the stable. Someone, he noted, had gotten the horses in from the corral. He smiled, perhaps Vanwe had taken that upon herself. He could hear them shifting in their stalls as they settled in for the night.

‘Falmar nickered softly as he passed her stall. In the moonlight filtering in from the open doors, he saw her toss her head - beckoning him. ‘Come on, then, girl,’ he said softly to her, opening the half-door to her stall and leading her out. ‘Come out under the stars with me for a while.’

They walked at a comfortable pace in the pool of silvered light between the trees. Like two old friends, their heads often together, they shared an easy silence. Occasionally his hand would come up to scratch her muzzle, and she in turn would drop back a pace and nudge him gently between the shoulder blades.

A short walk brought them to the edge of the Inn yard, and they stood for a moment looking up at the stars, the man leaning against the split rails of the fence. ‘Look! The Seven Butterflies have turned toward the west,’ he said, picking out the bright form in the sky. ‘And there,’ he murmured, pointing north, ‘is her favorite, Wilwarin.’ He reached up to rub the great horse’s cheek. ‘Perhaps she is walking beneath them now as she did so often, here, and even now looks up to see the same jewels set against the darkness.’

‘Falmar neighed, as if catching the image in the man’s mind, and rose up on her back legs, pawing at the air with her hooves. She seemed to challenge the expanse of the night sky and the distance which kept her from her mistress. Her feet back on the ground, she dipped her head to him, and shook it, her mane flying wildly. He stepped back as she stamped her front hoof on the ground, and looked closely up at her.

‘Rochfalmar,’ he said calmly, his voice a soothing murmur against the night’s sounds. She quieted as he spoke to her, standing still once again before him. She was beautiful he thought, here beneath the moon and stars. Her coat shimmered like a cresting wave shot with silvered moonlight while the shadowed greys of the sea rolled beneath it.

She stepped close to him, bringing her head down close to him, her muzzle nudging his chest. He laughed, and reached up to wrap his fingers in the long hair of her mane. And with a leap, he was astride her.

They sailed over the fence in a great arc, the horse’s hooves finding purchase once again on the soft dirt of the road beyond it. Derufin leaned low over the muscled withers and let ‘Falmar have her head. Off the road and through the fields she ran, cleaving the tall summer grasses like a great ship passing through waves.

[ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Maegaladiel]

Nahai watched with suprised confusion as Annalalaith ran out of the Green Dragon. Was it something she had said? Was it Celecu?

It occured to her that she knew very little of Annalalaith's past, save that her father had named her Gift of Laughter. Had hers and Celecu's reunion opened some old emotional wound in Annalalaith's heart?

She ran outside, but the elf maid was nowhere to be found. Annalalaith must be one heck of a swift runner, she noted. Nahai hoped that the elf would return to the Dragon and not hold any ill grudges against her and Celecu.

Re-entering the Green Dragon, she sat beside her lover. She had many questions for him.

"Where have you been all theses years?" she demanded, sounding angrier than she meant to. He looked up at her, remorse in his eyes.

"It is a long story," Celecu said wearily. "But I shall tell it. When I left you to defend the forest, our company was taken by suprise by a gang of orcs. We made short work of them, but little did we realize that they were but a mere distraction. While we were busy fighting this small opposition, a second group of larger yrch moved in on us from behind. Outnumbered and unprepared for such an attack, we were driven back. My company was small; we were meant as scouts to spy upon the enemy, not fight in combat like that." He shifted uncomfortably, remembering the times.

"Many of my people were murdered in that battle," he continued. "No one remained unscathed." His hand went to the scar on his cheekbone. "The blade that dealt me this small wound was laced with poison. The same wicked instrument also peirced my shoulder. Many others recieved worse wounds, but we fought on.

"Finally, we managed to push the bloodthirsty creatures back into the hills as the sun rose. But all was not well. The poison had already begun to take affect on the afflicted.

"The healer of Mirkwood could do little to stop the poison, but could delay its affects. He said that a healer in the Gray Havens could save us, and so we were sent across the sea. I was unconcious, so I had little say in the matter." he added, looking at Nahai's expression.

"Shall I continue?"

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman glanced around the common room quickly as she came to the foot of the stairs. Buttercup saw her, and put up her hand to signal to her, opening her mouth, but Aman shook her head, a well acted regretful expression on her face, and pointed to the kitchen. Cook, she mouthed. Not waiting for Buttercup's reply, she headed into the kitchen.

"You wanted to see me, Mrs Bunce?"

Cook turned, hand on heart and a ladle in her other hand. "Ooooh, Miss Aman, you did make me jump there!" She breathed. Aman smiled apologetically, and was glad to see the cook return the smile. She seemed in a very good mood. She hummed as she bustled about, then snapped her fingers, as if just remembering something, trying to make out she hadnt been eagerly awaiting the moment. Aman waited expectantly, then, as was expected, she asked the question dutifully. "You wanted to see me, Cook?"

Cook leapt on this. "Yes, yes indeed, Miss Aman." She smiled widely, then Buttercup burst in, also smiling.

"Have you told her yet?" She asked breathlessly.

Cook frowned severely. "Well, I was going to tell her, when you burst in like that-"

"Tell me what?" Aman couldn't help cutting in, a little exasperated. Both hobbits turned to look at her, surprised.

"You mean you don't know?"
"Didn't she send to you as well?"

Aman simply didnt say anything, waiting expectantly once more. Buttercup burst out first. "Shes coming back, Miz Aman! She's coming back with the young'uns and all, and her Lord, and we haven't long, she'll want everything perfect, even more so than it was when she left and-"

"Pio is coming back?" Aman was slightly incredulous, but couldn't help grinning. Pio was coming back. "When?"

Buttercup hesitated and stopped, looking at Vinca. The cook rolled her eyes, then turned to Aman. "She's coming here," She pronounced. "in about two weeks."

Aman's jaw dropped. She opened her mouth, thinking to start a sentence, but finally all that came out was a small, worried, 'hmmm'. Cook nodded. "I thought you might say that." Aman looked sharply at Cook, suspecting that that was not complimentary, but Cook pressed on in her businesslike fashion. "I'm surprised she didn't tell you. Was that letter not from her? Or maybe she sent a letter, then it got lost in the post, and- oh ho, whats that then?"

Aman had pulled the now crumpled letter from her pocket, and inspected the familiar writing on the front, before slitting it open with her thumb with ease. She scanned it, then lowered it and smiled sheepishly at Cook. "I...she...well, she did tell me. Sorry Cook."

Cook raised an eyebrow, then rolled her eyes, sighing exaggeratedly, but good naturedly. "Oh, Miz Aman, what are you like?! Well, as you may have guessed, that is another reason why Cami is on a campaign to get the attic sorted. You have looked, I presume?"

Aman winced and nodded grimly. "Yes we...well, explored might be a better word."

Cook laughed. "Well, we shall talk later on about all of this. Currently, there are more customers who need attention. I believe some of them may need rooms, and a few will be checking ou even, hopefully at least."

The still slightly sheepish Innkeeper nodded. "Yes, Cook. Later, then."

Turning, she left the kitchen and into the Common Room, subconciously assuming as she did so the air of confidence which Pio had possessed before her and which now slipped on easily.

[lore_master]

"It seems that I shall enjoy my stay here in the Shire, if all the Hobbits are as friendly and open as you good peoples that i have met this evening" said Arthas.

"I thank you for your hospitaltiy to me this evening. Now comes my story"

"I was born under the rule of Theoden King, as most of you have guessed by my apperance, I am 36 years old. I fought in the War of the Ring beside Eomer king, and King Elessar......"

After he was finished there was silence as the guests soaked all it in.

"well then, now you me. barkeep may i have another ale here, make it two i'll be here awhile."

[ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: lore_master ]

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Aleia turned and motioned to Ruby. “ Would you kindly bring me some tea?” she asked. Ruby assented with a nod while wiping off the table. After gathering the empty dishes, she quickly hurried to the kitchen and returned with a richly perfumed and steaming mug. The scent of which wafted across to Gilly.

Aleia sighed and looked around the table eyes alighting on Melcirial . “What of you, Melcirial? What is your story? Let us hear it!”

Overflowing with guests, the staff was scurrying to find accommodations for all. Buttercup was smiling as she and Aman crossed the common room’s floor unceasingly. An occasional muffled thud was heard overhead, barely audible above the din of the patrons. But the company around the table was relaxed and amiable. After such hardy fare and pleasant conversation, Gilly felt herself growing roots to her chair, her mind wandering randomly.

It will be hard to take my leave tonight, Gilly mused.

Reaching into her pocket she reassured herself that the handkerchief was still there, as was the envelope. The envelope! She had forgotten entirely about it. She pulled it out and examined the writing, squinting in the dim light. Carl’s scrawl, she thought before placing it back in her pocket unopened. Now why would Carl have sent me a letter when I just saw him this morning? I will have to read it when I have spare moment.” she concluded staring across the room at the hearth and settling deeper into her thoughts.

[littlemanpoet]

The lady Waen acknowledged that she had been in Lorien during the War, then lapsed into silence, her eyes flicking between himself, the fire, and her hawk. She seemed so young! But Eodwine knew that she could be centuries old. He wondered if it was bad manners to ask an Elf, especially a female Elf, how far back her history went. What a gold mine of knowledge! But she had not spoken much of herself, and he did not wish to presume too much. He signaled to the waitress for a refill.

"Good even to you, Eodwine," said the waitress as she filled his jar. The voice was familiar. He looked up. A lady Elf was smiling at him as she poured. His brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to muddle out the waitress apron and the Elven face above it; his brow flew up all of a sudden.

"I know you! The Lady Lespheria!" He rose from his seat and bowed, almost knocking her tray over. "Pardon!"

She laughed. "You have not changed, Eodwine of Rohan."

"I did not expect to see a Lady of the Elves dressed up as a waitress at the Green Dragon Inn in the Shire! Least of all an emissary of Rivendell!"

She laughed again. "I've been pressed into service-"

"Willingly enough, it would appear," Eodwine cut in.

She nodded enthusiastically. "-as the help is busy with many things."

"As soon as your duties are complete, please sit with us. Do you know Lady Waen?"

Lespheria glanced down with a smile and opened her mouth to speak when a voice called loudly, "Barkeep may I have another ale here? Make it two! I'll be here awhile."

"Sorry. Duty calls. I will come by later." She hurried off to fill another jar. Eodwine sat back down, shaking his head in wonder.

"You never know what comings and goings may happen, War over." He drank a few gulps from his brew and patted the satchel leaning against his chair. "You may yet be needed, my friend."

The Lady Waen spoke up. "What do you keep there?"

"Oh, just a humble harp I must have with me wherever I go."

Her eyes lit up. "You are a harpist, then? A singer?"

"I sing a bit and play a little in my own crude manner. I'm sure you've heard better."

"Play for me!" That winning smile came to lady Waen's face, and her eyes shone with anticipation.

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Alatariel finished her wine, as she watched the people. She searched over them, and then she noticed that the elf maiden she had saw the other day was gone. She got up off the chair and walked out the door of the Inn. She made her way around the side of the Inn to the stables.
Over at the black stallion's stables, the moonlight poured in onto his dark, glossy coat. Alatariel calmed him, stroking his mane. 'Tis okay, your fine. 'Tis safe here, Alatariel calmed him, but it did not work, there was something he did not like here... or someone...
The horse eventually calmed down, Alatariel puzzled at what was wrong. She left him there and continued back into the Inn.

She walked over to the bar and ordered supper. The cook gave her her food, and she went over to the same table in the corner and began to eat.

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: Alatariel Telemnar ]

[piosenniel]

All posters note:

It is still night at the Inn - a pleasant, warm midsummer night.

Supper is done.

People are sitting about talking in the Common Room and sipping their beverages.

[Nerindel]

As Léspheria finnished pouring a hobbit womans beverage, she saw Eodwine raising his jar, signaling for it to be refilled. He didn't look from his companion as she approached.

"Good even to you, Eodwine," she smiled filling his jar. Her smile widened as he looked from her apron to her fair Elven face, trying to put a name to it.

"I know you! The Lady Lespheria!" he cried in recognition. He rose from his seat and bowing he almost knocked the tray from her hands.

"Pardon!" he quickly apologised.

"You have not changed, Eodwine of Rohan." she laughed.

"I did not expect to see a Lady of the Elves dressed up as a waitress at the Green Dragon Inn in the Shire! Least of all an emissary of Rivendell!" he explained.

She laughed again. "I've been pressed into service-"

"Willingly enough, it would appear," Eodwine cut in.

She nodded enthusiastically. "-as the help is busy with many things."

"As soon as your duties are complete, please sit with us. Do you know Lady Waen?" Eodwine asked her.

She was just about to say that she had not yet had the pleasure, although she believed that the young elf had spoken with her twin brother the night before. When a voice called loudly, "Barkeep may I have another ale here? Make it two! I'll be here awhile."


"Sorry. Duty calls. I will come by later." she promised as she hurried of to fill another jar.

As she looked about for the caller she saw the red headed man raise his hand to beackoning her over. Still smiling she hurried over to fill his jar, then taking another from the tray she was carrying she filled it and set it on the table beside the other.

As he fumbled in his pouch looking for the correct coinage, his cloak fell back over his shoulder revealing the insignia on his tunic, A Majestic white horse on a green field. Léspheria's grey eyes widened in mild suprise, This man was also from Rohan and a soldier no less she realised as she took in the rest of his garb.

As much as she wished to return to Eodwine's company as soon as possible, her curiousity got the better of her.

"So what brings a soldier of Rohan to the Shire this fine night?" she asked as the man dropped the correct coinage into her open hand. she slipped the coins into the pocket of her apron and waited patiently for the man to reply.

[ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[ June 05, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

A young woman enters the inn and looks around for a moment. Patrons are seated at tables, some at the bar, others clustered in small to medium sized groups. Taking a deep breath, she walks over to the bar and orders a light meal.

Taking her plate, she walks carefully toward a relatively empty table. "Might I perhaps join you here?" she asks the group sitting there.

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Morwyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Annalaliath ran out of the room. She understood why Annalaliath was uncomfortable with Nahai and Celecu's warm reunion. She was a little uncomfortable too, like an outsider, peeping in through the window of someone else's home. Nahai, concerned, followed Annalaliath out. During the short time she was gone Morwyn and Celecu exchanged glances.

"I'm sorry." she said softly, "I trust you now." The elf smiled at her as Nahai returned and took her place beside him.

As Celecu began to tell his story, Morwyn's discomfort returned. His story was fascinating, yet she felt it should be for Nahai's ears alone. She tried to look unobtrusive, pushing herself back into her chair as though she'd vanish into it.

As Celecu came to a break in his tale, Morwyn cleared her throat. Nahai looked up startled. Morwyn thought she must have forgotten her presence entirely. The woman of Rohan stood up, twisting a bit of her skirt between her fingers. "I'm just going to go out and see if Annalalaith's alright..." she said hesitantly.

Nahai looked confused. "Alright." she said, "but if you need anything," she broke off.

Morwyn laughed. "What would I need? This is the Shire!" Nahai grinned, realizing she sounded rather silly. "Just enjoy being together, you deserve it." Morwyn said to her friend, laying one hand on Nahai's arm. Nahai nodded slowly, a smile lighting up her face as she held Celecu's hand tightly.

Morwyn walked slowly outside, the breeze was warm and softly scented. She walked out a few steps from the inn's door and called softly, "Annalaliath?!" There was no answer, except for the soft hum of the flies in the stable. "It's Morwyn... Anna are you okay?" she called again. Morwyn walked slowly out to the dusty path, looking around curiously for her friend.

[Annalaliath]

Annalaliath sat in the field that she had stopped at. She looked up at the stars. Sighing she began to think again. The lights in the green dragon and the surrounding buildings. She breathed in the scented warm air. She let her thoughts wonder, thinking on everything and nothing at once. In the silence she heard the long ago voices on the wind, ridiculing, wounding, killing. In them she knew was her own heart aching just to be held, just for the kind beautiful words, and love. "What is love?" she thought, " Does it even matter." Then she heard the slight friendly voice on the wind. It was Morwyn. She released the breath slowly.

She looked back towards the inn. She saw Morwyn looking around, framed by the light pouring from inside the Inn. She pushed herself up off the ground and walked back towards the light and noise of the inn.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

"Might I perhaps join you here?"

Niniel surveyed the newcomer and nearly smiled. This reminded her of herself. A little lost and not knowing quite how to proceed. And of course, Soronume-the-ever-polite nodded in answer to her question. It was to be expected, but just now, Niniel didn't really want another stranger to deal with. Four in one day was quite enough, thank you.

"My'lady. These are the lady Niniel, the lady Elwen, and Dorelnar," he said, gesturing to each one. Niniel had no choice but to nod graciously to the young woman.

"Here now, Master Soronume! Ye forgot me!"

"No one could forget you, Mardath," was Soronume's weary response.

"Well, Soronume, ye did. I'd hae thought that ye'd be kind enow t'remember m'name, after bein' so almighty fired up 'bout me not knowin' yours." The black bearded man looked the elf directly in the eyes, and chuckled. He knew by now that he was not the most well-liked person at the table, and that suited him fine. If the fellow didn't like him, well, that was Soronume's problem. None of Mardath's.

Niniel grimaced. Did Mardath have to bring that up? It was over with, as was most of her embarrassment at his bluntness earlier. She was more comfortable now, though every now and then, she'd glance at Soronume and blush. She couldn't help it. He was the first elf that she could remember meeting, not that that was saying much, and he was just so...so...so Elven. She couldn't help herself. Not that she would if she could, anyway.

"So, where do you come from, Miss...?" she asked. Anything to change the subject.

[ June 09, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[Theoric Windcaller]

Theoric made a brief halt, the sun graciously descended behind him about an hour ago, his axe strapped to his back, weighing him down. The stars glittered in the summer-sky like bright jewels, reminding him of the stories he once heard about the Mines of Moria.

Up ahead, the sound of laughter, of merry tales and music was heard. He stood in the middle of a quiet town full of Halflings, young and old, most of them going into a sort of inn where all the laughter and merriment seemed to originate.

Theoric, being the weary Dwarf he always was, thought it to be good to sit down and have a drink, maybe converse with a Hobbit or two, or maybe even find a fellow Dwarf sitting down in the inn, he was quite thirsty after all.

His pace quickened, the dust of the small road leading to the inn gliding with the wind into the Dwarf's eyes. How he came to be in the Shire of all places was a long story, maybe he could tell someone his long tale when he came to the inn.

The big round door to the inn drew nigh. He anxious awaited the taste of sweet mead upon his dried lips. He also awaited the laughter of a friend and the excitement of hearing tales of adventure, and that was exactly what he was to find when he stepped into the Green Dragon. The other inns he stumbled upon were full of quiet folk, strange ones; Rangers perhaps and cloaked strangers coming in, saying nothing, ordering a drink and then leaving.

Not that Hobbits were loud, rowdy folk but, from the sound of it, this inn was the place to be tonight. Theoric gazed upon the door with wear eyes. It was round and green with a small golden brass doorknob in the middle.

Theoric had seen many of these kind of doors passing through the Shire. Hobbits, he thought to himself, the strangest of beings. But, he enjoyed something different. He didn't like the normal life, he loved twists and turns, he even liked dangerous suicide quests once in a while. But he was a Dwarf, how else was a Dwarf to act? He didn't even know if he was like all the rest of children he grew up with. He just knew one thing was for certain: he was going to sit down have some mead in front of a nice fire and nothing in the wide world of Middle-Earth was going to stop him.

As he drew up to the door, he opened it and walked in, getting strange looks from the crowd of Hobbits in the corner. He didn't mind much because he was used to the strange looks he was given traveling through other parts of the Shire.

He saw a roaring fire in the back and an empty chair in front of it, like it was all put out, specifically for him. As he closed the door, the cold of outside left him and he became engulfed with pipe-smoke and a warm feeling and merriment here.

As he drew closer to the chair, he saw from the corner of his eyes a Hobbit standing up. The Hobbit, taking no notice of the weary Dwarf came to the chair in front of the fire and sat himself down. Theoric, stopped with a surprised look on his face.

Fine then, he thought, I'll sit at the bar

[ June 06, 2003: Message edited by: Theoric Windcaller ]

[Ealasaid]

"What of you, Melcirial?" Aleia asked the young elflady. "What is your story? Let us hear it!" But the hobbit's promptings seemed to fall on deaf ears, as though the elf had vanished altogether into some distant inner space. Her eyes had a faraway look to them as though she was wandering around somewhere in the dreamtime.

How Elven of her! thought Benia. Looking around the table, she saw that her other companions seemed relaxed and happy: Aleia with her tea, and Gilly sinking lower and lower into her armchair. Benia smiled to herself. She felt happy and comfortable, too, for a change. She spent altogether too much time hiking rainsoaked across empty meadows or hiding in hedgerows, waiting fearfully for suspicious bands of cloaked men to gallop past and leave her in peace. In fact, she felt almost festive, in spite of her earlier worries about the red stone and the large number of Rohirrim descending on the inn. She reached into her skirt pocket and took out a small cloth pouch.

"Let's have a song!" she said merrily. She opened the little pouch and took out two pairs of small brass cymbals, which she attached loosely to the thumbs and middle fingers of her tattooed hands. Keeping a steady ting-ting-tek-a-tek-ting-tek-a-tek beat going with the cymbals, she began to sing. Her voice was low and sweet, and even though the words were in her mother's desert dialect, all who heard her were suddenly struck with visions of a bright sun and blowing sand dunes, oasis palm trees, and wide open grasslands. When she finished th elast verse, she lowered the little cymbals and smiled around the table. The elflady was still in her own world, but Aleia was watching her with bright-eyed interest, clearly curious about the little cymbals. Gilly, on the other hand, seemed to have dropped off to sleep, holding her still unopened letter loosely in her lap.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman looked up to the sound of the strange and outlandish song. Benia's voice was beautiful, and hearing it was somehow like being in a desert, or having the sun softly warming your face.

As it ended for a moment, the Inn seemed frozen as all were quiet, basking in the silence that comes after every good performance when all take a moment to just revel in what they have just witnessed. Aman sighed, breaking the spell, and looked out the window to see that it was already dark. It seemed such a strange contrast to the warm song from Far Harad, that Aman couldn't help staring, although the skies were clear and the stars shone crisply. She began to collect glasses, going to the table where Benia sat first.

"That was beautiful." She murmered as she passed. The woman looked up, surprised and gratified, and smiled in acknowledgement.

As Aman went back to the bar, she nodded to a newcomer, a dwarf with a mildly put out expression on his face, and a large battleaxe on his back. The dwarf looked up, surprised, but also apparently relieved. Aman smiled inquiringly, but he didnt reply as to his relief, but instead cleared his throat and asked for a drink.

"An ale please...?" He stopped, unsure how to address her.

"My name is Aman. I'm the Innkeeper here." Aman began to clean out the glasses and put them away.

The dwarf didn't hide his surprise. "You are the Innkeeper? But...but this is the Shire."

Aman smiled, it wasn't the first time she had been asked. "The old Innkeeper, Piosenniel, left when she had her twins. I am an old friend of hers."

"Piosenniel...that, erm, that doesn't sound like a hobbit name...?" The dwarf had a small smile hovering around his lips, but also seemed a little nervous, and suddenly Aman felt even more concious of his axe. Aman laughed. "No, she was an elf."

A frown from the dwarf. The battleaxe suddenly looked even more obvious, and Aman wondered whether there was a polite way she could remove it from him. Ah well, lets just go straight for it. She smiled charmingly, smoothly changing the subject. "Will you be staying? If so, are you intending to take off your cloak?"

The dwarf smiled sheepishly. "Oh, oh yes..." He did remove his cloak, but as he took it off, he kept hold of his axe. Bother. Hey, just dive in then... "Would you mind if I took that? We have a policy of no weapons. There are storage units at the door."

The dwarf gripped his axe slightly harder and looked around quickly, scanning the room for an exception to this rule.

"Really, weapons are not allowed." Aman tried not to feel guilty as he hip brushed the sword under the bar and she pushed it in slightly further under. "Please....?"

The dwarf shook his head. "Yes...yes, I suppose so. My name is Theoric, by the way."

They talked for a while, then Aman excused herself, seeing Cami enter. Cook opened the kitchen door, releasing wafts of tasty smelling air, and searched with her eyes for Aman. The Innkeeper nodded, and inclined her head towards the kitchen at Cami. As they entered, Aman breathed in deeply, letting the smells of supper fill her nose, and she realised she still hadn't eaten. Cook seemed to guess and in her matrobly way, placed a deep plate of stew in her hands.

"Come on, Miss Aman, you can eat while we talk. Can't have you skipping meals." Cook tutted.

Aman smiled as she fished in a drawer for a fork. "Would I miss one of your meals, Cook?"

Cook smiled, gratified at this, and took a seat by the stove, warming her hands. Buttercup came in, unsuspecting- she hadn't worked here for as long as Ruby, and therefore didn't know of the washing up which any unsuspecting hobbit could be pulled into, and Cook immediately did pull the little waitress into washing up. Cami also took the other seat by the stove, while Aman contented herself with leaning on the side of the table, stew in hands.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Cami stood up and faced Aman. A grin of triumph played across her face. "Finally, I have you trapped. Now I know it only takes a good bowl of stew to stop you in your tracks, so I can finally talk to you."

"Have you had a chance to look upstairs in the attic again? I know the attic needs a great deal of work to turn it into something comfortable and decent. But I'm convinced it's the best way we have of relieving the crowding in the Inn. It's getting to the point where I almost hope our guests will decide to camp out in the woods, or push on through to Frogmorton."

When Aman smiled slightly and began to chuckle, Cami stamped her foot.

"You're laughing? This is serious. I have no chambers left tonight. If that new Dwarf that came in..... Now, what's his name? Oh, yes, Theoric. If that new Dwarf requests a bed, I will have to ask him to share a room with two of the younger male Elves who arrived this afternoon. And you can just imagine how well that will go! We'll be lucky to have a moment's peace."

"It will be too dark and dingy to go up there in the evening. But maybe tomorrow you could have another look and tell me what you think."

With that, there was an interruption, as ax excited Ruby ran over to where Cami was sitting. "Miz Cami, come now, please. And be quick. Those two gentlemen from Minas Tirith that you asked to bunk together have gotten into a little spat. They both want different rooms."

Cami rolled her eyes upwards, and made a face, glancing back pointedly at Aman. Then, she stood up and hurried out to the corridor to speak with the men. Even as she approached, she could hear the men's voices rising, as they griped at each other and argued about which of them should leave to find different accomodations.

[Theoric Windcaller]

Theoric seemed surprise. The inn was not full of only Hobbits, but Elves were seen among the crowd as well.

This boded well for the tired Dwarf, more adventurous kind to talk to. After having his seat taken by the Hobbit, he trudged over to the bar and sat down, his boots trailing in mud from the fields of the Shire. The bar was just his size, not to large like the other inns he had stopped by in his journey here, but, the Hobbits were small folk, and the Dwarf didn’t regret his decision to come here.

His brown curly beard waved as his hazel eyes darted from corner to corner, investigating the room.

"What will you have tonight, Dwarf?"

A small, feminine came from behind the bar. A maiden she was. From Rohan, Theoric thought, as he stared deep into her eyes.

He had spent a good deal of his time on his journeys in Rohan with his brother and companion, and because of that, he was able to decipher where she was from. “Ah, thank M’lady. I’ll have a pint of mead, if its not too much trouble,” replied the Dwarf, sinking in his seat at the bartender’s beauty.

“Aye, you’ll have it in a minute," scuttling off to accomodate the Dwarf.

Theoric chuckled. “From Rohan,” he laughed, “I knew it!” Theoric waited for a moment and soon, a pint of mead was put before him. The bartender darted off before he could ask her for her name, much less say, “Thank you.”

Theoric grabbed the mug’s handle and brought the rim to his dried lips. As soon as the mead touched his lips, flowed down his throat and into his stomach, he was relaxed. He sighed as his weariness fluttered away like a group of crows in a forest.

As he brought his mug down, he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a familiar face, un-hooded and a smile upon his face. “Brother!” he shouted as he recognized his hazel eyes. He jumped from his seat and wrapped his arms around his brother.

“Hail, Theoric. It has been long, I almost forget what ye looked like!” chuckled the Dwarf brother, returning the hug to Theoric.

Theoric looked surprise. It had been five years since they last saw each other. It was a mid-summer’s eve, the sun slowly descended behind the mountains and the brigade of Dwarf adventurers wanted to press on further towards the Misty Mountains.

It was then that a great storm broke the brigade apart later that night, and the brothers never saw each other until this night. The brothers were the only survivors out of the brigade, and the brigade was made up mostly and the Dwarf brothers’ companions. A tragedy it was.

Theoric slowly reflected back on that night in the Misty Mountains where the storm tore the two brothers apart. “I thought you were dead with the rest of our brigade,” said Theoric. “Nay, I knew you were alive. Our family has always been strong, I knew our companions died, but for some reason I knew you were alive,” replied the Dwarf brother.

“How did you find me, how did the rest of the brigade die, Tallon?” asked Theoric.

Tallon Windcaller, that was the brother’s name. He was a good older brother, much like Theoric, but headstrong. Yes, he was stubborn, but still very friendly, like Theoric.

“Well, the rest of the brigade didn’t die. I was wrong. There was one survivor,” replied Tallon, anxious to show Theoric his surprise. Tallon stepped aside to reveal another Dwarf standing behind him. “Hail, friend of old!” shouted Baylin.

Baylin was a companion of the Windcaller brothers for the longest time. He was a smart one; he always knew what road to take and how to win the fight. The Windcaller brothers both were surprised that he was not a lord in the Dwarven army.

“Baylin! I thought you had died!” Theoric darted and hugged the old Dwarf. Baylin, with his scraggly, long white beard and his dark walnut-brown eyes accepted Theoric’s hug with a smile. “I assure you, I have not. For I stand before you here. I knew you would be here; the Shire is one of the few places we haven’t explored. It was just a matter of when you would be here. My estimations were correct, as you can plainly see,” chuckled the intelligent Dwarf.

Tallon walked to the bar and ordered two pints of ale. Tallon’s brother and companion joined him. Theoric told the two of his adventure coming here, and they told him of their adventures since the night five years ago when they lost each other.

Theoric was overjoyed at this newfound mercy. He knew that his adventures would be better now, better than ever.

“A merry place this is,” said Tallon, slowly studying the crowd of Elves, Men and Hobbits.

Theoric chuckled and replied, “Aye, this mead is wonderful.”

There was short silence soon after that between the three Dwarves. Theoric knew there was something on the other Dwarves’ minds, and he wanted to find out.

“Tallon, what’s going on?” asked Theoric, eagerly awaiting an answer.

He knew not what to expect, but he knew that whether the news was ill or good, he wanted to know what it is. Ever since he was a young Dwarf-lad, he hated being kept out of secrets, and to this day, he would go to desperate measures to find out what was being held from him.

“Theoric, look at this.” Baylin took a folded piece of parchment from his cloak’s pocket and slid it around the wooden bar to Theoric. He studied the inanimate object for quite sometime before unfolding it. He looked at the two Dwarves. Tallon motioned him to look at it. Tallon took another sip of his ale.

Theoric looked nervous, maybe he didn’t want to find this secret out after all.

Theoric slowly unfolded the paper. He seemed relieved when he recognized what it was. “A map? Are you thinking about another adventure?” “Nay, not another adventure. An Elven friend gave this to us to give to you. It might be someone you knew from one of your adventures,” replied Baylin.

Theoric didn’t recognize the map at all; it was a land he had never seen before. “Look, we have to take leave. We will take the map if you don’t want it—.” “Nay, I’ll keep it,” said Theoric. “I’ve never heard of any of these places, so this map is nothing to me,” the Dwarf added.

He walked to the fireplace and tossed it in the fire. The embers flew up into the air. “Enough of that. Foolish to waist time with things I don’t understand,” said the Dwarf.

Baylin thought differently, but then he remembered one of the many sayings he went by: “A person’s choice is their choice to make.” It was Theoric’s choice to burn this mystery map.

“Alright, dear friend, your brother and I have business to attend to in Rohan, we will see ye another day,” smiled Baylin. “Aye, we must take leave. Goodbye, dear brother. I have a feeling we will see each other again,” he said with an accent.

“Goodbye,” Theoric said as he sipped his mead and watched them disappear into the darkness of the night.

[ June 07, 2003: Message edited by: Theoric Windcaller ]

[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.

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:

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

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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.

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At present it is still night in the Shire - a warm, summer's night, to be exact.