The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

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Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar) - AWAY AT PRESENT

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

Meri - Stablemaster

Tim Woodlock - Stableboy; Wren - his younger sister: humans, originally from Breeland (characters played by Folwren)

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

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Please Note:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

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EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

TIME OF DAY

It is now a fair night in the Shire; the stars are out.

There is a large party in the Inn's front yard - tables are loaded with food, desserts, drinks. Several barrels of ale have been tapped, compliments of one of the Hobbit brewmasters.

There are tables and benches scattered over the front lawn. Twinkling little lanterns hang from the trees. To one side of the verandah there is a little stage set up for the musicians and a large area cleared for dancing.

[Lhunardawen]

"Of course! What do you wish to do with the time you have left? We could join the others and dance, or find something to eat?"

Astilwen's infectious cheery disposition once again drew Tilionwen in, allowing her to cast aside the sadness brought about by her decision to leave the next day. Somehow she was able to tell that the hobbit was torn inside - wanting her to stay yet knowing she should go - and she promised herself to make this a night to remember for both of them. The friendship they have so readily formed in such a short span of time only deserved it.

"I'm not sure if I still know how to dance," Tilionwen replied with a sheepish grin, "but it sounds like a fantastic idea! However my stomach grumbles at the moment and is demanding to be fed. It's been a long time..."

The hobbit did not even let her finish speaking when she grabbed both her hands into her tiny ones and pulled her towards the tables. Tilionwen gave in with a laugh and soon fell in step with Astilwen. She still could not keep the faint melancholy as deep inside as she wanted, but she was determined not to allow it to ruin their night.

[Glirdan]

Gróin sat in stunned scilence as Lily spilled her story to him, even if it wasn't the full version. As she continued, Gróin's heart was moved to pity for the young lass. Falling in love and being forced to marry someone else. It was an all too common story in his family. In fact, that was exactly why Gróin was travelling to the Blue Mountains: to meet his bride to be...

It was then he realised that she had finished her story and she was gazing off into space, lost in trance of woe and sorrow. "But… would it not be better to talk to him, find out the truth?" he asked her silently, knowing not what to say to comfort her.

"No! No, he must not know that I am here. If he truly has come looking for another girl, then I will leave and go back to Tommy. But I will not beg him. And I do not want to hear his explanations. Not yet. I can’t handle it yet.”

He looked at her in pity, and, even though he didn't know just how complicated it was for her, he had the sudden urge to pour out his soul to her. The odd thing about Gróin was that he wasn't exactly like the rest of his kin. Actually, like the rest of his race. He was always a timid Dwarf, from the moment he could speak whereas the rest of his kin and race were quicker to anger. Whenever he heard a sad tale, like the one that Lily just told him, he was moved to pity, not scorn. "Perhaps this is why I'm forced to leave my home..."Gróin thought to himself outloud. He looked up and noticed Lily was staring at him strangely. "I'm sorry Lily. I didn't mean to say that out loud. You have enough troubles of your own. I don't want to burden you with my problems."

[Thinlómien]

Grimhorn noticed that "the boy" was taking a hard line with him. Steel against steel, then, he thought and grinned to himself (but no trace of a smile was to be seen on his face). You asked for this yourself, boy, he thought and a moment later he caught himself being exited about a little battle of words with this boy. Your flighty temper would suit better a man half of your years, a familiar voice echoed from his memory. That is one woman's opinion. One dead woman's opinion. I don't need to bug myself with that, Grimhorn told himself.

"So you say there's a problem in being the son of the "one that runs at dusk"?" Grimhorn growled. He knew it was stupid, if this young man knew more than a general passer-by from the Anduin Vales. Or from Mirkwood. He searched his memory. Hermit Sundry lived in Mirkwood? He had no image where he had lived. Damn, he thought. That's the thing I should remember.

Just then he remembered the lad's offer of peace. He would have liked to take it and talk about something else, but he couldn't drop this matter; he couldn't let the lad keep his wrong image of his father. Wrong, wrong, wrong he assured himself. Lies, lies, lies. No one knows. No one.

"Though I don't have anything against another ale, I'd like you to explain yourself. One can't accuse a man and then get away with it."

"Waiter, bring two beers here!" He was too lazy to go and get them. "Don't worry, Sundryboy, this time I pay", he said, sounding perhaps a bit malicious. He didn't know which one of them was in a more uncomfortable situation, but he decided to enjoy his own misery and gamble a bit and master the situation.

Then, looking at the boy who looked a bit uncomfortable (as probably he did himself) he realised he actually liked the boy. Had it been another place and time and situation, he would have been delighted to share a pint with such a promising young man. And had it been another boy, he thought. The whole Sundry-line is rotten.

[Firefoot]

Forced to leave his home...? To this point Gróin had only made it sound like his travels were willing, a light-hearted venture. Was there something more? "I'm sorry, Lily. I didn't mean to say that out loud. You have enough troubles of your own. I don't want to burden you with my problems," said Gróin.

But Lily shook her head. It would be relieving not to have to concentrate on her own problems, if only for a few minutes. Her constant worrying was not helping her at all, though she saw little else that she could do until some opportunity presented itself for her to learn more. “You have at least earned a willing ear, after listening so patiently to my troubles. Please, I would like to listen.” She had given Gróin little enough attention since they had sat down, and she felt rather abashed – of course she was not the only one in the world with troubles, but here she was, babbling on about herself without giving Gróin a moment’s concern.

Oh! Perhaps Gróin had diverted from “burdening her with his problems” because he did not want to talk about them? Then she would have just made the situation worse for him. “That is… if you are willing to share your story. I did not mean to sound pushy.”

[Glirdan]

“You have at least earned a willing ear, after listening so patiently to my troubles. Please, I would like to listen. That is… if you are willing to share your story. I did not mean to sound pushy." Gróin looked at Lily wide-eyed. No one ever wanted to listen to his problems. They were always to busy worrying about their own problems to even care about his. He was astonished yet grateful that someone, even if you just met her, cared and wanted to listen to him.

"Well, I guess it wouldn't be a problem to tell you," he answered her, still quite astonished. "But I must warn you now, my story is not full of woe like yours is," he smiled at her gratefully. "Well, it starts off when I was just a young lad when my parents and I used to travel to the Blue Mountains. We always went there to visit my kin. You see, my family is originally from Moria, before the evil was awoken. We are distantly related to Dain. When the evil came, my family moved out to the Blue Mountains. That's when I met her, the love of my life..." he said and trailed off into thought, remembering her beauty. Even amongst the Dwarves she was accounted as beautiful. He came out of his reverie and looked at Lily. She had a sad expression on. "Lily, is there something wrong??"

[Firefoot]

Gróin trailed off in the middle of his story, a blissful, loving expression on his face. At his break, Lily’s thoughts had quickly slid back to Posco. How many times had she seen a look similar to this on his face? He had loved her, hadn’t he? Then why? Why, oh, why? Could he have forgotten about her so quickly? She could not fathom doing the same to him; even during the times she spent with Tommy Banks, his face had a way of popping into her memory and staying there. Her gaze strayed briefly to the inn once more – what was he doing inside? She could torment herself for ages with these questions and never come up with a comforting answer.

Gróin seemed to come back to himself and looked at her. When he asked her again if something was wrong, she realized that her dispirited thoughts must be showing on her face, and she shook her head, replacing the gloomy expression with a slight smile. “No, I have told you all my problems already. Please, do continue with your story. It sounds as if it should be happy, yet you said something about being forced to leave your home…” Her interest was genuine, and she vowed to herself that for the rest of the story she would put thoughts of Posco out of her head and listen attentively. Gróin seemed to need this – he was so attuned to others’ feelings, yet did not seem to expect the same in return. Was there no one that he could tell his problems to? He looked at her closely, as if unsure whether she was telling the truth. “Really, I’m fine. Don’t bother with me; finish your story.”

[Kath]

"I'm not sure if I still know how to dance, but it sounds like a fantastic idea! However my stomach grumbles at the moment and is demanding to be fed. It's been a long time..."

Astilwen beamed at the prospect of more food and pulled Tilionwen over to the tables. She could see the woman hadn't yet entirely let go of her troubles, and was determined to get her dancing in the hope it would do her good. Twirling around to music always raised Astilwen's spirits, she just hoped it would do the same for Tilionwen.

For now though she was quite happy to settle for getting some food into the woman, who didn't look as though she'd had a decent meal for ages. Pushing Tilionwen towards a mostly empty table she bade her stay where she was. After receiving a somewhat bemused nod Astilwen ran off to the tables and filled two plates with as much food as she could get on them, including something of everything. She returned to Tilionwen and dropped the mounds of food on the table. The woman's eyes grew large as she saw the amount in font of her.

"Are you sure we can take this much?"

"Of course! This is barely an adult hobbit's evening meal! Eat as much as you want. If you leave anything I'm sure it'll be snapped up later by some hungry hobbit in passing."

Apparently reassured Tilionwen dug in and the two women communicated in a series of grunts or words spoken through mouthfuls of food for the next few minutes. As she ate Astilwen noted that the other woman was clearing her plate with the same gusto as she herself was, and nodded to herself, realising her guess had been right.

Once the plates were mostly cleared, and they were too full even to pick at what was left, Astilwen suggested going over to the dancing area.

"I think I might pop if I tried to do anything energetic right now"

Tilionwen groaned at the thought, eyeing the people bouncing around with wary eyes.

"Don't you know exercising is the best way to avoid indigestion?" Astilwen replied with a wink. "Come on, I promise I'll be just as bad as you, it's been years since I danced to a good band."

[Glirdan]

“No, I have told you all my problems already. Please, do continue with your story. It sounds as if it should be happy, yet you said something about being forced to leave your home… Really, I’m fine. Don’t bother with me; finish your story." Once again, Gróin was rather surprised at this.

"I'm sorry. It just feels so wierd telling my problems to someone else. No one ever listened to me back at home, which is one reason why I was glad to leave. But now I'm getting ahead of myself. So, where was I?" he asked, racking his brain, trying to remember where he left off. Gróin had a very bad genetic fault; memory loss. It ran on his mothers side and was, unfortunately, passed on to him at an early age. "Ah yes. That's right. As I said, that's when I met the love of my life. We did everything together when I lived there: hide and seek, tag we even ate at each other's respectful homes once in awhile. Yes, we were young, but we were in love. That's when my family decided to move out. We moved back to the Lonely Mountain and dwelt there for awhile. But then, we were driven off by a dragon. Smaug the Worm as he was known, until he was slain, but, once again, I'm jumping ahead. Our goodbye hurt me forever and ever since, I've been longing to see her again, but I never have. Yet that love for her still lives inside of me. Now, when the dragon came, I was playing outside in the fields. He came with a terrible rush, spouting fire from his mouth, nostrails flaring..." He gazed off, remembering the dread he felt when he Smaug approaching, the damage that the Worm did to the mountain and to the city of Dale.

"Umm, Gróin? Are you ok?" Lily asked, suddenly interupting him.

"What? Oh! Yes, I'm fine. Sorry about that, I was just remembering the destruction that he created. It was dreadful. So, we were forced to move again and we moved back with our kin to the Blue Mountains. However, when we returned, my love, Sarin, wasn't there. I never found out what happened to her. That is another reason that I'm heading back to the Blue Mountains. Anyway, when Smaug was slain, my family decided to move back to Erebor, the Lonely Mountain as it is know to you. However, while I was living in the Ered Lindon, another woman fell in love with me. Her name is Corin and my father for her hand in marriage. I was away, working in the mines at the time, and my father answered yes. But we moved before our marriage. So that is what I'm on my way to do. Get married, but also to find out what happened to Sarin, my love. And that's my story..." He trailed off into his thoughts once more, remembering the beauty of Sarin and how much fun they used to have. He awoke from his reverie and looked at Lily. She was starring at him with an odd look in her face. "Lily? Are you sure you're ok??"

[Farael]

" It would please me to know how a countryman found his way out here."

"Well Losse, your 'profession' does make me feel a little uncomfortable, specially because it's because of thieves that I find myself in this inn." Answered Farael, "My father is a merchant and I decided to join him after serving some time in the army. I wanted to travel yet my father made sure I was kept out of harm's way. Him and I arranged that I'd join the family business if I was allowed to travel to distant lands. He was trying to get some pipe weed from the hobbits' lands and so I came here to see if I could get a good deal. Some other merchants sent people this way and so we were a little group of men carrying two carts with some goods and a good deal of money. At one point I saw tracks that looked orkish to me and I decided to follow them. They lead me nowhere, but by the time I joined up with my group they had been assaulted by bandits. Not orcs, but humans. The others went back, I pressed forward hoping to find the thieves yet after a week of searching around I decided I had lost their track and came here for a break. Not a really exciting story, but that's why I'm here"

He felt more than 'a little' uncomfortable about Losse. He had always thought thieves were evil, wretched people that had no friends other than their illgained goods and gold. Yet this thief was both friendly and more than just a little charming. "I'm getting hungry again," said he "how about we grab some more food? I have never had such a great meal as today!"

[Nogrod]

Now this was a cracker! Rían had learned to act, to wear many faces, during his life. That skill also included being able to read others’ play, behind their masquarades, when they were playing. But this giant here! He seemed to be as confused as he sounded. Could it be possible, that he had no idea about the other side of his father? No, it just didn’t seem to make any sense. But still, there was not a sign of a cunning liar making his moves. This man was a mystery. Rían remembered the stories of that famous Gollum-creature, and his ordeals.

Well, he had to make his move now. Any move. Grimhorn was staring at him, questioningly. Rían took a long puff from his pipe and leaned forwards, like wishing to address his words to Grimhorn only. The giant saw the idea, and leaned himself a little forwards too.

“It would bee foolish indeed to call a man of your proportions a fool, but I do have to ask, whether you have been raised in a barrel or something? You say you are a beorning, and you surely look like one. But still you kind of let me understand, that you have never heard the stories about the “Owl’s eye”! Or, if you are the son of Grimgor indeed, that you have never been able to see these two as one person. Well, be as it is. My father may have been mistaken – which he rarely was, but anyhow. The “One that runs at dusk” burned my home when I was five years old. We had to run for our lives, my father and me. We ran the whole night. I remember it, even though I was just a kid back then. I’ve had recurring nightmares about it ever so often: burning fire, the shouts, the running, branches hitting the face, slipping into the mud, actually an owl singing in the night, the sounds of the forest at night... And I remember his grin, that I truly remember, even though I saw it only from a distance.”

Rían was about to continue his remembrances, but Ruby interrupted his train of thought, bringing them the pints Grimhorn had ordered. Rían nodded to Ruby, receiving his pint, and waited for Grimhorn to pay for them.

[JennyHallu]

"I'm getting hungry again," said he "how about we grab some more food? I have never had such a great meal as today!"

Losse laughed, gray eyes catching firelight as she tossed her long locks, once again adorned with her new pretty. "Any meal I didn't cook is a great meal, Farael," she said with a chuckle. "I am sorry to hear of your bad fortune, though I am thankful that neither you nor your companions were injured. I suppose I understand your nervousness about me a little better now. I am a very good thief, no doubt about that, not even vanity." She walked toward the table where she'd left her stew. Forgotten, it still sat there on the table. She leaned toward it and sniffed. Still good...but definitely cold. She left it there and grabbed a trencher on one of the tables in the center, heaping it with bits of this and that. She cheerfully fought with a hobbit for the spoon to a large dish of mushrooms and won, adding a large helping to her plate before surrendering it back. Farael cheerfully trailed in her wake, grabbing a platter of his own as he watched her dance through the crowd with eyes alight.

Losse was charming, and she knew it. Her voice was sweet and musical, her eyes laughed only slightly more often than she did -- and her laughter was certainly ringing out over the party tonight. She had almost forgotten the lightness of her purse by the time she sat down, laughing merrily with sheer joy. She kept the conversation light, putting her best foot forward in an effort to show Farael her intent was to gain a friend, talking as she ate, and punctuating her speech with clever sleight-of-hand, her nimble fingers keeping both Farael and anyone who happened to catch a sight of her antics with her coins and bits of fruit.

"Really, I've never stolen a copper from anyone who couldn't afford the loss, I swear it's true." She'd switched from ale to a light and sweet dandelion wine, the yellow liquid sparkling in its glass.

Farael looked at her doubtfully. "I thought you said you earned a living as a thief."

She grinned. "Well, thievery's my career, and it's fun. But I couldn't live with myself if someone suffered too much for my fun. So I've always had something to fall back on. My last winter I spent in a tiny inn in Minas Tirith, really just a tavern. I sang for my supper in the common room, and danced for my board on a street-corner. It's only been in summer that I've really depended on thievery for a while now. Easier to forgive myself for a bad haul when I don't have to sleep in the snow." Her eyes turned serious for a moment, and she decided, helped along by the admittedly mild wine (Why did I get wine? I know I talk too much when I drink wine...) to tell the rest of her story.

"I picked the wrong man to start my season off with. That's when I decided that I'd be better off far from home and hearth. Not that I've spent all that much time having a home and hearth, so it's no great loss!"

[Wiscott]

Accepting the offered drink with a grin as broad as Ibun's, Baldin drinks with relish. "Ah, that's the stuff to close a deal! And now, with your leave, I shall be getting to the beds inside. Have to rest up for the coming journey!" With that, Baldin departs to search for a bed inside, whistling merrily as he goes, content with the productivity of his day.

[Firefoot]

Lily could not help but feel sympathy for Gróin, who had gone through so much moving around and hardship. He had said his tale was not so full of woe, yet it really was. She had listened intently, and had done well with her vow, right up until the end. Such similarities… “Lily? Are you sure you’re okay?”

Slightly exasperated, Lily said, “My goodness, yes. Or if I am not, there is nothing that can be done about it right now except hope to forget about my problems until something can be done.” She laughed slightly to take off any edge there might be to her words. “And you, Gróin, might do well to forget that there are problems at all. I think that you worry too much, though perhaps this is a habit you have gotten through long years of hardship. The night is fair and there is a party here. Enjoy yourself for once.” But the words sounded hollow even to her. Good advice, maybe, to herself as much as to him, but rather futile. After all, Posco was still here but inside, and Marcho sat alone across the lawn. Her gaze wandered over to the band playing a lively tune. A bit of dancing, perhaps? Would that lighten the mood? So risky, though – it would not do for Marcho to see her. And her heart would not be in it, either.

She sighed. “It doesn’t really work that way, does it? For I am a worrier, too, and forgetting does not come easily. What I really need is someone with information… but someone who will not inform him that I am here. His traveling companion – or perhaps guardian – Marcho is sitting over there, but I believe that he would let promptly let him know I was here.” Lily realized that she had not yet told Gróin Posco’s name, and found that maybe it would be easier to keep it that way. “And at this rate I will never find what I seek, because for it to work out I need help to fall into my lap.” And as much as she did not want to, she knew that in some strange way she was asking Gróin for help he could not really give. She did not see how he could help her at all, in fact, and she hated dragging him into her problems when he had enough of his own.

She was tired of this whole thing. She only needed to know one small thing, and then she could go home. But she already knew, didn't she? "Listen to me prattle on - all this worry to find out something that I have already found out. If what I have heard is true, then I have no business here. Perhaps I should not have come."

[Witch_Queen]

The door opened from the party outside. Avalon flew in the back door. She had traveled all the way from Rohan and now she was back in The Shire. Avalon had been alone since Cree's depature. She had flew around Middle Earth searching for any sign of Cree. Her search unfortunately was coming to a dead end. She saw new faces and heard new voices, indeed she had been gone for a long time. Avalon spread her large white wings allowing her to land softly on the end of the bar. As she landed a few "unknown" people tried to shoo her away. "Crows don't belong inside the inn." "Begone you animal." Avalon knew times had changed, but this was still her home.

Cree had left Avalon here to help in any way she could. Avalon remembered helping hang objects from the ceiling when a festival or party was going on. Now she was back to fullfill her end of the "abandonment." Avalon heard voices outside, laughter and music. A party... Indeed I arrived later than intended. Avalon flew back outside to see she was right. Everything was beautiful. Yes she saw faces she didn't know but there was the few that she recognized with ease. She flew over the party to see if she might find a very familar face... But there was no sign of Cree. Avalon flew to an empty seat to rest her wings. Before she could even get settled down someone almost sat down on her. Avalon screeched a warning. This was her seat for the moment. Her warning was a friendly one but still she knew she probably scared someone.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

With a hand still tightly bound in an old bandage, a grim faced Elf sat in the corner of the Inn. How long he had been there, none could guess. His eyes were full of memory and wonder, so many things had passed his sight, yet it was not all good. The Elf held in his hand a large mug of Shire ale, he held it aloft towards a picture of a Green Dragon, hanging on the wall.

"Here’s to you," he said quietly, "may you rot." he laughed heartily and drank deeply. Some Hobbits eyed him and shook their heads. Those crazy outsiders were at it again; they decided and paid no more heed to the Elf.

Fáinu's adventures since he was last in the Green Dragon had not quite gone as planed. Cree had been helpful; there was no denying it, yet ever as the road had gone forth, a foreboding had gone with him. Leaving her in Rivendel had set his mind at ease. Dragon’s spells were terrible things; surly the Elves there had the skill. Or at least, more than what he had.

Leaning back he produced a long wooden pipe from his coat and lit it, the tobacco burned and he puffed out several smoke rings. Most refreshing. Since the Dragon burn, he had never smoked. But now, he was free. Or rather, free-er. The dying breaths of that foul creature, that deceiver that-

This wasn't helping. Nor was the ale, as he came to think of it. The sound of the party outside, encouraged him to go and see what was what. So he rose and looked out of the window. The happy folk seemed so far from the troubles and wars... and Dragons. But one thought remained in Fáinu's mind: "This bandage is itchy."

[Salacia Deloresista]

Left foot. Lift. Forward. Drop. Right foot. Lift. Forward. Drop. Breathe. There had been yelling, loud, angry words. Noises, crashes that made her flinch and want to cry. Rough hands reached for her. Anger, spit, and a smell like old vinegar few at her face. The hands drew back, and in the pain that followed, her twelve year old mind could only retain one thought. She had to leave. And so she left, waiting until he was asleep then, wrapping anything edible she could find in the house into a bundle, she waked out the door.

The terror of the next few days overwhelmed her. Alone, across unknown wilderness, she wandered, her destination that mythical place in her imagination known only as "away." It was a place without fathers, without beatings or fear. She traveled only at night, dreading the light of day that would reveal her to the eyes that were surely looking for her, and the hands that would follow to punish her daring bid for freedom. Every moan of the wind was the sound of the dogs on her trail, every snap his footstep, every breeze his breath. He was cloaked in every shadow, hidden behind every tree. She ran when she could, walked when she had to and crawled before exhaustion forced her to collapse and sleep through another day. How could she know that the drunken stupor in which she left her father would be the one from which he would never wake up?

She walked. Tangles of brush became woods, woods became fields, fields became farms and the hills...houses. Her first coherent thought burned itself across days worth of terror. People live in those hills. But any one of them could turn her in, pick her up, take her back. Left foot. Lift. Forward. Drop. Right foot. Lift. Forward. Drop. On and on, step after step, until one day, at last, she heard laughter and singing, smelled food. The light streaming from the windows pierced the darkness of her mind. The sign outside the building glinted green as it swung in and out of the light in the window. A figure...some kind of lizard...a green dragon.

[Witch_Queen]

Avalon looked around, still no sign of Cree. She flew up in the air to get a "crow's eye view" of all the festivities. She thought she saw a very familar face. "Fáinu?" Avalon dived towards the ground, she knew where she was going this time. If he was back then there was the chance that Cree had returned as promised. Avalon landed on the ground in front of the elf. "Fáinu!" but she knew all he could hear was "SCREECH!!!!" "Where's Cree? Why isn't she here with you? What happened to her?" Even though she knew he didn't understand her Avalon couldn't help but worry about her friend.

What's the use of the questions? He couldn't understand me if I drew him out a map. But if he's here then where is Cree. I hope nothing bad has happened to her. Come on Fáinu tell me something. I need to know where is Cree?

[Hookbill the Goomba]

The small bird was squawking like crazy. Fáinu looked down for a moment and raised an eyebrow. How odd, he thought. Then a thought hit him, that bird was familiar, somehow. The elf cocked his head and then knelt down to see it more closely, it seemed to back away slightly. "Av-" he began, trying to remember the name, "Aval-" No that wasn't it... "Avalon!" he cried at last, and the bird seemed to nod.

"You're Cree's friend, no?" he said, and the bird nodded, "I see. You're probably wondering where she's got to." Avalon nodded, "Well, that is a long tale. It would take a while." The bird stayed intent. "Very well, I shall see what I can recall."

The Bird hopped on the window ledge and fluttered into the Inn, Fáinu sat down at a table and examined his mysteriously re-filled mug. There were several Hobbits looking at the Bird with curiosity and confusion, labelling Fáinu with their eyes as a madman. Or Elf.

[Glirdan]

“My goodness, yes. Or if I am not, there is nothing that can be done about it right now except hope to forget about my problems until something can be done. And you, Gróin, might do well to forget that there are problems at all. I think that you worry too much, though perhaps this is a habit you have gotten through long years of hardship. The night is fair and there is a party here. Enjoy yourself for once." Lily sat in thought and sighed. "It doesn’t really work that way, does it? For I am a worrier, too, and forgetting does not come easily. What I really need is someone with information… but someone who will not inform him that I am here. His traveling companion – or perhaps guardian – Marcho is sitting over there, but I believe that he would let promptly let him know I was here. And at this rate I will never find what I seek, because for it to work out I need help to fall into my lap. "Listen to me prattle on - all this worry to find out something that I have already found out. If what I have heard is true, then I have no business here. Perhaps I should not have come."

Gróin sat startled and looked at Lily kindly. "My dear, if you wouldn't have come, then we wouldn't have been able to have this, sad yes, but helpful talk. If know one else is happy that you are here, know this: I am. For I have made a friend. Thank you. So, do you want to dance?" and as he said this, he got up and held his hand out for Lily to take hold, totally forgetting his half eaten food. He looked around at the crowd of people dancing. Lily was right, it was time to put the past behind him...at least for now. It was time to enjoy himself while he might, forget the troubles of life while there was a party going. Who knows, he might even spend a little time at the Inn to meet more of the locals and visitors. "He looked at Lily again. "So, do you?"

[Thinlómien]

Grimhorn payed the pints cursing by himself. The boy must have sensed that I had become so sure about myself! he thought. The time of the peace offer had floated by, and it couldn't be helped.

Grimhorn knew that his father's friends had jokingly called him the "Owl's eye" and "the one that runs at dusk" after a very old country legend of a madman warrior with unchallengable strength. Nonsense folklore, he thought, that's what it is. Still, he couldn't help wondering if the nicknames came from a reason.

And this hermit Sundry! He had believed himself a seer of somekind and most people had thought him mad. Now Grimhorn wondered if he had "seen" old Grimgor Bearhand to be an incarnation or something of "the one that runs at dusk". And taught that nonsense to his son.

Anyway, Rían Sundry was the case now. "I think we're speaking about different "Owl's Eye"s. That was quite common knowledge that the friends of Grimgor Bearhand called him the "Owl's Eye" and "The One That Runs at Dusk". Those names, as you must know, belong to a madman of an old silly legend. So who are you talking about? A mythological warrior madman or Grimgor Bearhand, an honoured warrior? Or are you trying to tell me that they are the same thing?"

Well, you have to rest somewhere, and it may as well be here.
May as might...but I don't like stopping. 'Specially on a night like this. Lovely.
Not when you're this hungry, it isn't. Anyway, there's no need for you to be travelling in the dark. Not like you're running anywhere.
That isn't funny.
I thought so.
Aaaaah...talking to myself...! Stoppit!
An'...? It bothers you this time?
Maybe...no, I guess not.
Not aloud, why should you care? Meanwhile, you're blocking the door.

It was true. Peri was blocking the door, and probably unwisely considering the number of people present likely to need to walk through it at least once that night. If somebody were to shout "fire" just now...think how I'd be trampled! An odd thought, it made her laugh aloud.

Brilliant, that.
M'beginning to think I've heard enough from you tonight.

The first result of Peri's outburst was that almost no one noticed it. Logical, seeing as the inn was full of happy, laughing, talking, dancing people mostly minding their own business. The second result was that her unhealthily pale skin blushed somewhat pinkish, anyway. She could feel it starting at the base of her spine, a rush of hot blood that made the bright room in front of her spin crazily. She stepped carefully sideways through the door, keeping a shoulder against the wall. Deep breaths slowly returned her natural pallor.

Shame...you're lovely when you're terror-stricken.
Oh, well, I'll have to make a point of trying it more often.
W'll don't bother now. Not much at all you can do to to look any better tonight.
Wait...was there a joke in there somewhere?
You look like you've been travelling days through fields and ditches.
Ye-es... Ashamed to be seen with me, now?
Guess not. Should I be?

Peri sank to the floor, gathering the muddied edge of her long...blue? grey? The dress was worn 'til the color was hard to determine, ragged at the hem that just touched the top of her boots. Well, and ragged fairly everywhere else, too. But she was mostly looking at the hem. Resting her head on her knees, she practiced looking like a part of the wall.
Yes...yes, you probably should be ashamed.
H'shhh...just rest. And maybe you can fall asleep a while before anyone notices you. H'shhhhh...

Dreamless dark took her instantly.

[Nogrod]

“If I get your meaning right, you are trying to tell me, that an old silly legend just materialized to burn my home?”, Rían asked, behind his words, dead serious now. “I don’t know what was there between your father and mine, but I know, it was a man who grinned just like you and had the stature like yours, who burnt my home and whom we run away from – and whom my father called with both names: as Grimgor the Bearhand and as the “Owl’s Eye” or “The One That Runs at Dusk”.”

Rían noticed, that the pitch of his voice had climbed up a little too high, and so his voice was breaking. He tried to ease himself, taking a long sip from his pint, trying to sort out his head. What is this all about? After all the years of hide and seek, I’m sitting here in front of a man whose father has been one of the main reasons to my life’s tragedy. And what am I doing? Squeaking like a pre-teen! He had planned this one so many times! But where was his action now?

He leaned back again, trying to appear secure – which he truly wasn’t! His wits seemed to have deserted him totally. What to say, how to continue? Attack or defence, action or reaction? Keep talking or do something?

In the end he opted for some more talk. He needed time now, and if he could make the giant talk, he would have it. He could think.

“Well, you have not done any harm to me, either I to you. Let’s talk this over like sensible human beings. Tell me about your father. Maybe we can work this out together?”

[Firefoot]

“So, do you?” repeated Gróin. Lily hesitated. Perhaps it would not hurt… she did enjoy dancing, after all. Maybe… maybe it would even help, if Marcho did not spot her. Or Posco. At least, she thought bitterly, they would not mistake the Dwarf for some new lad of hers.

“Well… why not?” She smiled slightly and stood. Gróin led her over to the open area which had been cleared for dancing. She was glad that there were several others dancing there, as it meant she would not stand out so much. The lively tune was familiar to her, and she realized that she was actually looking forward to this. “Have you ever danced to hobbits’ music, Gróin?” she asked. He admitted that he had not, and Lily grinned. “Well, then you are in for a treat.” Her happy laugh could almost be heard as completely carefree. Keeping an eye turned to Marcho (who, thankfully, was paying no attention at the moment) and the quiet inn, she now led Gróin out into the dance.

She fell into the rhythm quickly, stepping, whirling, and dipping. For his part, Gróin seemed talented enough, and if the Dwarvish style of dancing was not quite so light as the Hobbits’, he still picked up the song quite well. A fleeting thought passed through her mind: if only I was here just to enjoy myself and meet new people…! But then it escaped her memory like a dream half-remembered at awakening. Why ought she to fret so much over a lad who had apparently forgotten her? And as she threw herself into the dance, she realized that she almost did not care.

[Witch_Queen]

She walked out of the stables, her black hair blowing freely in the wind. It was only a short time ago that she was in Rivendel with what elves remained behind. Fáinu had gone on to the Shire, atleast thats what the note had said. One of the elves told her what happened. Evidently she had a "spell" and almost lost her life because of it. Cree's journey from Rivendel was olong and lonely. Cree could barely remember everything that happened.

Cree was no stranger to suffering. All her life Cree searched for the truth about her father's death and now she knew.

I killed him, no wonder everyone thought I was dangerous. I don't want to believe it anymore. All my life I have wondered if I was indeed a victim. My life has been a lie, I killed the only person that truly ever cared for me.

Cree could hear waht sounded like a crow squawking. She knew imediately who it was. "Avalon!" The departure from the Shire had meant leaving her friend behind. NOw she was back and wasn't leaving for a long time. Cree could hear waht sounded like people laughing and music playing. "A party?" Cree's life had changed but as far as her life at the Green Dragon Cree was always happy to celebrate with everyone else. At the Green Dragon Cree's trouble no longer existed.

Cree's cloak reflected that of a Rivendel elf not of Eryn Lasgalen her home. Cree's cloak would have to do after all she wasn't going back to the land she left behind. Cree walked to the front yard of the Inn. "Avalon should be around here somewhere." Cree figured Fáinu wouldn't be expecting her to be here so soon. If it wasn't for her stubborness she would still be in Rivendel couped up in bed. She was fine now. She had suprised everyone when she "woke up" and almost jumped out of bed. The elves that took care of her had told her to go back to bed, that she needed her rest. But she wasn't going to waste time when she had to get back to "her home".

Cree walked around the party looking to see if she might spot the white crow. "Maybe if I found Aman she might know where Avalon is." Not seeing any sign of either Avalon or Aman, Cree went inside the inn searching for familar faces.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

The bird nibbled happily on some cram that Fáinu had given her, he was running out, but did not care. Avalon looked back up at him and cocked her head from side to side; Fáinu cleared his throat and then sat back. "You heard about our adventure in the mountains?" He asked, Avalon nodded, "Dwaline was always a faithful news bringer. Well, soon afterwards we travelled through Wilderland to the Lonely Mountain. 'Mirkwood' still held in the back of my mind, no matter what they change it's name to. Esgaroth was no better, the closer we came to dale, the more the burn returned."

Fáinu looked at his hand, the bandage was still tightly wound about it, covered in the dirt of a thousand adventures. He felt a chill as the Inn door opened. Cree went in and for a moment, Fáinu took no notice. He looked again and shook his head. A cruel trick of his mind. But she did not disappear. "Do you see that?" he asked the bird. Avalon looked up and squawked loudly.

"Shut that wretched bird up!" cried a Hobbit, before a large worn flew past Fáinu's head and fell harmlessly to the ground. The elf took no heed of the loud Hobbit as he walked to gather his shoe. The Hobbit seemed to have boots, but did not wear them. What a strange fellow, thought Fáinu. The starlight glimmered through the windows as some Hobbits staggered outside singing songs of drinking and laughing.

Cree did not seem to see Fáinu as he sat in the corner of the room, although she seemed to have heard Avalon's squawking. A barmaid brought Fáinu another mug of ale and rolled her eyes at him and the strange bird that was disturbing the customers. All these outside folk, she thought. The elf raised his head and then stood up, he walked over to Cree as Avalon flew with him.

"Well met," he said, "If indeed we do meet. I fear this may be a trick of the mind."

[Witch_Queen]

Cree turned to see that Fáinu was indeed inside the inn. Cree was so happy to see Avalon that she almost forgot about what Fáinu had said to her. "I do not see why your eyes would be playing tricks with you. I'm here, where else would i be?" Cree couldn't help but chuckle. Since her last "spell" Cree was now a different elf. She laughed more despite what she had been through. "You missed me didn't you Avalon?"

Cree held out her arm for Avalon to perch upon. THe white crow gently landed on the extended arm. "I missed you too."Cree turned to Fáinu, looking him in the eyes. "Fáinu why did you believe that your mind was playing tricks with you. What's going on Fáinu, your not telling me something. What really happened on the way "home"?"

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Cree turned to Fáinu, looking him in the eyes. "Fáinu why did you believe that your mind was playing tricks with you. What's going on Fáinu, you’re not telling me something. What really happened on the way "home"?"

"I suppose I've got used to my mind playing tricks," he said with a smirk, "But all that is in the past." He led Cree to his table and ordered some drinks and food. Avalon stood proudly and then leaped onto the table and looked very dignified. Fáinu smiled and looked up at the ceiling.

"After I left Rivendel," He began, "I rode as fast as the horse would carry me. Weather top seemed like a good place to rest after a few days riding. But that place was full of robbers and I drove them out, I didn't trust it enough to sty for the night. I rode on for a long time. Stopping in ditches for a few hour sleep. But when I did, I could only see the Dragon's eyes. You remember? As the life poured out of it and it laid its curse on you. I couldn't help but feel responsible." He looked at his hand, "I know that this is no longer a true burn," he removed the bandage and all that could be seen was a pail white scar, "But in my mind, it still burns. Not as much as it used to. But still.

"I walked in the Barrow Downs," he said after a pause, Cree looked up with astonishment, "Yes that place still holds many fears. The stones that look like great teeth shrouded in mist loomed overhead and they seemed to have eyes. I decided not to venture into the Old forest, but took the East - West road and came to Hobbiton."

Avalon seemed impatient. She squawked and flapped, she didn't want this story; she wanted to know what happened on this 'adventure'. Fáinu closed his eyes and thought back to when they left The Lonely Mountain. "I think Avalon wishes to hear the tale of what we did." Said Fáinu and Cree nodded. "You see," he went on, "This Dragon in the north was terrorising many Dwarf colonies. Smaug was the last of the great Dragons; so we hopped this would not be such a challenge.

"The journey was traitorous, the grey mountains loomed ever further away than they really were. Several Dwarves came with us: Therin, Kili, and Fundin. There were all pretty young and knew well the story of Thorin and the defeat of Smaug. Kili hoped he would not suffer the same fate as his namesake. But we all feared for our lives. Dragons are, after all, Dragons."

[Glirdan]

“Well… why not?” Lily stood and Gróin led her over to where everyone else was dancing. “Have you ever danced to hobbits’ music, Gróin?” He shook his head. “Well, then you are in for a treat.” and she laughed. Such a sweet laugh and if Gróin didn't know better, he would have thought that she was having a great time. She started dancing to the rythym of the song and she looked like she was really enjoying herself. Gróin then started dancing and their rythyms matched up perfectly: Lily's light, graceful movements and Gróin's heavy foot stomping. After awhile, it really did look like Lily was enjoying herself, as if she completely forgot all her troubles. She looked so happy that Gróin could not tell whether or not she was faking it. The song ended and everyone clapped. "Whew! That was fun!! Would you like a drink?" Gróin asked Lily polietly and she nodded her head.

Gróin made his way through the crowd to the friendly Hobbit serving the beverages. "Two ales please," he asked a little breathlessly. The Hobbit smiled as he handed over the two drinks and turned to make his way back over to Lily. He was enjoying himself so much that he had completely forgotten his troubles with Sarin and Corin. He pushed his way through the crowd, looking around trying to find his way back to Lily. It was then that he saw something that made him gasp in shock. "Was that?? No, it couldn't have been...could it?" he thought to himself as he made his way over to Lily. He put out of his mind as reached Lily and gave her her drink. "Gróin? Is something wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Lily stated.

"It's....it's nothing. I thought I saw....but it couldn't have been...could it? Oh, there I go rambling on. I'm sorry. It was nothing. I thought I saw an old friend, but it couldn't have been. Not here anyway," he said. "Anyway, forget about it. Let's get back to dancing."

[Farael]

"I picked the wrong man to start my season off with. That's when I decided that I'd be better off far from home and hearth. Not that I've spent all that much time having a home and hearth, so it's no great loss!"

So she was indeed a fugitive. For a moment, Farael wondered how much money he could make by bringing her back. Then he realized it was not in him to do so. Even with his strong sense of duty, this woman seemed more like a girl who had made some bad choices than a nasty thief with a rotten heart. Her smile was bright and honest, and Farael could find no reason to think of her new story a lie. It seemed she had finally relaxed and was telling her true story, or perhaps it had been the wine. Looking at the mug-full of water he held in his hand, Farael remembered he was not sober either.

"So tell me, Losse, exactly why was this man 'the wrong man' unlike any other thief? I find it hard to believe that there is much difference from one another"

[JennyHallu]

"So tell me, Losse, exactly why was this man 'the wrong man' unlike any other thief? I find it hard to believe that there is much difference from one another."

Losse raised an eloquent eyebrow. "Surely, after your experiences, you know that some men are more...forgiving...than others. Damiel Bladespinner hasn't a forgiving bone in his body, and I stole his horse. As soon as it was, ahem," she paused, searching for words, "made clear to me, so to speak, whose horse it had been, I returned it. But Damiel hasn't earned the place he has in the dark corners of the city by forgiving an offense."

She paused, remembering the utter terror of the first legs of her flight from Minas Tirith. "King Elessar is working hard to clean out such elements in his capitol, but he has had much to do, and some have slipped through the cracks. Damiel can't do so for much longer, and then I will be free to go home. And then, also, there may perhaps be a better place for me, and other things I can do. There is always a job for me, if I want it, at that little inn where I sang last winter. Someday, I will open my own. There is a lot of good that can be done with a little tavern. Maybe I'll be able to save some children from some of the difficult decisions I had to make."

Her eyes shone, reflecting the beautiful light of the evening stars, as she contemplated the things she wanted to do with her life. Farael sat back and let her speak, describing the deep dreams of her heart. "There will be a warm hearth, and a cozy little common room. I have no need of anything large. I want it to be a place where people come together in in joy and quiet friendliness. Someone to cook for me," she laughed. "Because that is a dream I know I won't be able to make real. A few quiet rooms, where a weary travellor can spend a quiet night..." She lapsed into silence, stretching out with a tired, hopeful smile as she leaned back in her chair, draining the glass of wine in one long, slow pull, and flipping a coin absentmindedly back and forth across her knuckles.

[Farael]

"you know, Losse, instead of risking being chased out of this inn should someone else notice your.... hobby, you might want to watch and learn given that this really is the cozyest Inn I have ever been to."

"Here we go again," thought Farael. "First you get merry, then you get curious and then you get philosophical. You are drunk my friend, and you should bite your tounge hard before you start making promises to this lady. She is a thief, and it could all very well be an elaborate plan to steal..." Then his thoughts trailed off as he could not think anything she could steal from him besides a little money.

Taking a big bite of something that resembled the potatoes his aunt used to prepare for him, Farael nodded his head, as he listened to Losse's words.

[JennyHallu]

Losse giggled. "Oh, I am, believe me!" she said, cheerfully delighting a young hobbit lad nearby by absentmindedly pulling a sweet out of his ear, presenting it to him with a flourish and a seated half-bow. "Everywhere I've gone so far, I've found new ideas. As a matter of fact, this place makes me want to look for a little bit of land on the Pelennor Fields and build a new place. This courtyard is lovely. I don't suppose I'll be able to quite pull off a view of a world-famous mallorn tree, even from as far off as this, but I'll plant an oak tree. It will take a good generation, but my children will see it grow tall and strong. Maybe I'll even have space for an orchard and a garden. I eat such things fresh, but maybe someone else will know of other things to do with them."

She sighed and quieted. "And what of you, my dear Farael? What dreams and desires haunt your sleep? Why do you get up in the morning?"

[Thinlómien]

I can't believe this! That lad is pulling my leg! But though he was no reader of minds, Grimhorn could see that Rían was dead serious. He wasn't playing, this time.

My father, Grimhorn thought. He was astonished to find out how much it hurt after all these years. All these years of secretly knowing that everything wasn't like it seemed to be, he reminded himself. At some level he had known that there was something wrong with his father.

Then his mood changed. Why do I accept all the lad says as truth? His father was a big liar, so isn't he quite probably a liar as well? But again, there was too much pain in his voice. He might have been mistaken for the man. Seen what his father had wanted him to see. It was a frail hope, but Grimhorn clinged to it.

Then he came back to his senses. That wasn't probable, so he shouldn't use time in that idle dreaming. Maybe he could ask Rían, if he was sure it was Grimgor Bearhand he had seen. But it wasn't the most important thing. The most important thing was that there had been hostility between Hermit Sundry and Grimgor Bearhand. What and why was it, was the matter. I knew my father well enough. He wouldn't have burned a man's house without a reason. I wonder what reason did Hermit Sundry provide him...

Grimhorn would have liked to talk this over with someone, but Rían really wasn't the ideal guy. There were too much personal feelings tangled to this matter. If there was someone neutral, or someone on the same side with him, who could solve this and talk the matter over.

Then he realised how childishly he was thinking. There wasn't anyone else. It was Rían Sundry who he would solve this matter with, no one else. They needed each other's help to find out the truth. Neither could do it alone. He had to accept that he needed Rían's help. And he needed to accept that his father did what he did and it couldn't be changed anymore.

"Now you make sense, master Rían. However painful it is, we need to talk. You say let's begin with my father, and I agree it's a good idea. Then we could move on to yours and see what there was between them and what was this "Owl's Eye"-thing of your father's."

Grimhorn took a big gulp of beer and asked: "What would you like to know about the man your father called "The One That Runs at Dusk"?"

[Salacia Deloresista]

Mirelle felt tears come to her eyes. Laughing, singing, and the smell of food overwhelmed her senses; she sat in the shadows on the edge of the road and cried. She cried out of relief, cried for fear and exhaustion and hunger, cried for a simple lack of anything better to do. She had left, she had made it out, but now, confronted with the where and why and how of life on her own, she had no idea where to start.

Off to one side was a barn, tall and open with comfortingly deep shadows. Mirelle headed towards it cautiously, and after hearing no noises, went inside. It was a far cry from the barn at home. These were not plow horses, big and bulky and built to work. These were travelers' horses, light animals that could cover long distances. Mirelle snuck a quick glance at them, but didn't stop for long. She had more important things in mind. In the back, she knew, would be a ladder. The ladder led up to the loft and the loft would be safe. She could decide what to do without worry of discovery. She climed, but no sooner had she reached the top and sat down when sleep claimed her, all thoughts of tomorrow driven away by the black behind her eyelids.

[Thinlómien]

Brith knew she was drunk. She had taken a bit more than the one beer she had originally decided to take. There were people coming in and being warmly welcomed. But one lonely young woman sitting on the yard drinking beer had been totally ignored. Why me? No one loves me. No one in this world. That's why he left me. He didn't love me. There's nothing to love in me. I'm an unloveable creature.

Drinking had never been good for Brith's mind.

There's one person in the whole world who doesn't hate me. And he happens to be a horse. How great. Brith laughed bitterly. And he loves me only because I give him food. Brith bought an apple. She wanted to feel loved. And the only one to offer it for her here was a gray stallion who happened to love apples.

Brith headed to the stables. She found her horse Grayday easily. She went to him and patted him. The horse let her even hug himself, but it's interest was focused to the apple in Brith's hand. Sighing, she gave it to him. "There you go, my love. I hope you're happier than I am tonight."

[Farael]

"My desires, hm? Why, so you can laugh at me too? everyone does." He sighed, remembering the times when being just a little more than a boy, he dreamt about fighting in the great battles of old time. If Losse had asked him the same question back then, he would have simply answered "I want to become a hero". It was no longer so easy, as even though he had joined the army and quickly risen through the lower ranks, his father had made sure he was always away from danger. And only in dangerous situations can a man really show what he is made of.

"I just want to protect my country and My Lord, as many did before me and many will after. But my father ruined that, so I guess I will be a merchant then. Just like him." He sighed again. It couldn't be that bad, being a merchant. At least he would always have money, and he would not be as likely to be killed. The life of a soldier had gotten easier after the fall of the Dark One, but there was still a lot of work to do. Lots of thieves to eradicate.

"I wish you were not a thief, Losse... you seem to be a very skilled and smart woman. With your smarts you could manage your own inn... but you shouldn't waste your time! We are no elves," He looked around for Teluyaviel, hoping she would not hear him talk like that "we will not be around for ever. "

[Huan]

‘You are certain you do not wish me to come with you?’ Emlin had delivered Teluyaviel to the back door of the Inn, the one that opened into the kitchen. He was loath to let her speak with her brother alone. Yet, it was her wish that she do so.

He opened the door and offered his hand as she stepped up to the little porch and then went in. The kitchen was well lit and he watched her as she hurried through the doors to the common room and passed beyond his sight. Emlin sighed and began to push the door closed when a voice from within hailed him.

[Lhunardawen]

"Don't you know exercising is the best way to avoid indigestion? Come on, I promise I'll be just as bad as you, it's been years since I danced to a good band."

Tilionwen's stomach gave a gurgle of protest as she attempted to stand, and her cheeks flushed instinctively. She hoped that Astilwen had not heard the sound, but the hobbit turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "Are you even trying to get your tummy to make excuses for you?" she asked with mock disgust, yet despite her attempts at seriousness the two broke into a fit of laughter. After a while they found themselves clutching at their stomachs in pain.

Having catched her breath Astilwen abruptly pulled the much taller woman to her feet and towards the area for dancing. "Astilwen -" Tilionwen started to protest, but she was not listening. Tilionwen frowned. She didn't really feel up to anything yet - more so dancing - when she was afraid that her stomach would burst any moment. She dragged her feet to hamper the hobbit's efforts, but Astilwen was clearly stronger than her height (or her lack of it, it must be said) led Tilionwen to believe. Soon the hobbit realized what she was trying to do and stopped walking, then turned towards her with pleading eyes. Does she have to do that? No eloquence - if Tilionwen possessed any - could argue with her expression. Sighing in resignation, Tilionwen said, "Okay, okay, you win. But all I'll be doing is sway in place until this," she looked at her abnormally bulging tummy, "stops complaining. Good enough?"