The Green Dragon Inn - Part 5 - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Beren87 · 07-31-2003, 08:49 PM

"Where am I from..?" Beren repeated the question slower, to himself., slightly dazed and confused. "An odd question, really, it would take a bit of explaining, if you've time to spare."

"Time? Well, the mid-day meal will have to be served soon, but Cook's got it on it's way nicely. I'll have a seat here with you, anyway." Aman smiled softly at Beren. More of an inquisitive, inviting smile than that of pure reflex. A smile that actually, it seemed and he dared to hope, was truly warm. She sat on the stool beside him, looking left, waiting for him to continue.

"Ah, well then. I suppose I'll start at the beginning, which would be the beginning of me. I was born, outside of Minas Tirith, from my mother who died at birth. It's allright really, it's not terribly uncommon." She had lowered her eyes a bit, at the last part, seemingly in respect. "My father was a traveler you see. Sort of an...ambassador from the Steward. He wasn't home much, but our family estate is very nice, and the servants raised me to the best of their ability. I played with the gardener out back, was taught by tutors as they came around every week, basically just stayed to myself. I wasn't allowed to play with the common boys, my father being who he was." Beren's face turned slightly darker at his last comment, obvioulsy remembering it not fondly. He turned and sipped an ale, drying his parched throad, but remembering his manners turned to Aman and inquired, "Would you like one?"

She politely shook her head from side to side. "I'm allright, and if I did want one, it is my Inn." She winked slightly at her own comment, forcing a slight tinge upon Beren's cheeks.

"Heh..right, of course it's your Inn. Er, anyway, I was at the neighborhood boys. Yes, well, I wasn't allowed to play with them, so I mostly kept to myself inside, musing around with toys my father had brought home from whatever new trip he went on. He was never really home, but the things he sent back were excellent. Dwarven poppers and such, I had the best playthings in the city. Well, I grew up of course, attending more and more tutors as I grew older, until word came one day that my father had been slain by a group of Orc-men searching for money. My world basically collapsed. He hadn't been home, but I had always known he was out there somewhere, and now, I didn't even have that. About sometime later, I decided to start out on my own traveling, around the routes my father had described to me. It seemed the most logical thing to do, though, I'm not sure why. I've been everywhere in my years of travelling, so many places, in fact, I've nearly lost count of how many years it is I've been traveling. Imladris, The Havens, up at the Mountain, I've been everywhere. Most of my things I've had carted back to my home, in Tirith, spending money quite freely. I don't know if I ever expect to make it back there, really, but if I do I'll have quite the assortment waiting for me. You know the story of the ruffians on the road from Bree, of course. I slew two of them, as they ambushed me, then ran all the way to the Buckland gate. They dared follow no farther. And now, I'm here." He smiled at her, abruptly finishing his drawn-out story. He leaned further back, sipping on his mostly-drank ale, waiting for her to comment.

Aman had been quite quiet through the story, letting Beren go on and on, listening to the ramblings of his childhood with interest. "You told the Shirrif about the ruffians then, right? We've been having quite a lot of trouble with them recently, attacking groups of hobbits on the way to Bree for parts and such. Dasterdly devils are impossible to track down it seems."

"Well, I don't know how much I can do about that. I'm not exactly a soldier, but I've had some experience with a blade. I offered my services to the Shirrif, at any rate, so perhaps a time will come when I'll meet up with them again. He shook the thought off, oddly concentrating on the here and now for once, which was, perhaps due more to his company than his thoughts on the ruffains.

"Aman! Get in here and help me serve this food, it's been cooked up for an age now, girl." The cook bellowed from behind in the kitchen. "And if you're talking with that man Beren, he can come and 'elp get these dishes out if he likes. I doubt he'll mind too much helping out you." There was an odd chuckle from the area of the stove, which caused both faces to go slightly pink. Not a comment was thrown about the Cook's last words.

As they entered, Aman and Beren began helping the cook to slice the soft, freshly baked bread. "You know Aman, Derufin's still looking for someone to share that extra room with, in the stables." The cook's voice oddly projected more towards Beren, than the adressed Innkeeper. "So, in case you hear of anyone wanting a room for a slightly extended time, you should inform them about it, you seem to hear more from the patrons than I get to."

"A room! Why.." She excalimed the words, then turned to face Beren, "Beren, how would you like to bunk up out in the stables? Seeing as how well you and Derufin were already getting along. It would save you quite the coin in renting a room here, anyway, and it would be the least we could do for our new Gardener. You were planning on staying on, weren't you?" She said this last part, looking up into his eyes.

"I..I..well, of course I was planning on staying here, and the stablemaster is certainly a kindly fellow. He doesn't have that larger-town feel to him, anyway." Beren smiled as he said his words, realising perhaps he had finally found a home, where no other place would suit him.

"Well then, good gardener, I'm sure Derufin will be very happy to hear it. I'll be telling him next time he comes in here, asking for food, or you can tell him if you happen to brush past him before I do." The cook turned back to the food in front of her, obviously done with them.

Beren and Aman stood, side by side, slicing bread and vegetables for the next meal of the day, silently laughing among themselves as the Cook turned to wink at each of them, trying to disguise her obvious facination.

[ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Beren87 ]

07-31-2003, 08:49 PM	#11
Beren87 Master of the Secret Fire Join Date: Oct 2001 Location: Between fire and ice, death and life Posts: 2,241	"Where am I from..?" Beren repeated the question slower, to himself., slightly dazed and confused. "An odd question, really, it would take a bit of explaining, if you've time to spare." "Time? Well, the mid-day meal will have to be served soon, but Cook's got it on it's way nicely. I'll have a seat here with you, anyway." Aman smiled softly at Beren. More of an inquisitive, inviting smile than that of pure reflex. A smile that actually, it seemed and he dared to hope, was truly warm. She sat on the stool beside him, looking left, waiting for him to continue. "Ah, well then. I suppose I'll start at the beginning, which would be the beginning of me. I was born, outside of Minas Tirith, from my mother who died at birth. It's allright really, it's not terribly uncommon." She had lowered her eyes a bit, at the last part, seemingly in respect. "My father was a traveler you see. Sort of an...ambassador from the Steward. He wasn't home much, but our family estate is very nice, and the servants raised me to the best of their ability. I played with the gardener out back, was taught by tutors as they came around every week, basically just stayed to myself. I wasn't allowed to play with the common boys, my father being who he was." Beren's face turned slightly darker at his last comment, obvioulsy remembering it not fondly. He turned and sipped an ale, drying his parched throad, but remembering his manners turned to Aman and inquired, "Would you like one?" She politely shook her head from side to side. "I'm allright, and if I did want one, it is my Inn." She winked slightly at her own comment, forcing a slight tinge upon Beren's cheeks. "Heh..right, of course it's your Inn. Er, anyway, I was at the neighborhood boys. Yes, well, I wasn't allowed to play with them, so I mostly kept to myself inside, musing around with toys my father had brought home from whatever new trip he went on. He was never really home, but the things he sent back were excellent. Dwarven poppers and such, I had the best playthings in the city. Well, I grew up of course, attending more and more tutors as I grew older, until word came one day that my father had been slain by a group of Orc-men searching for money. My world basically collapsed. He hadn't been home, but I had always known he was out there somewhere, and now, I didn't even have that. About sometime later, I decided to start out on my own traveling, around the routes my father had described to me. It seemed the most logical thing to do, though, I'm not sure why. I've been everywhere in my years of travelling, so many places, in fact, I've nearly lost count of how many years it is I've been traveling. Imladris, The Havens, up at the Mountain, I've been everywhere. Most of my things I've had carted back to my home, in Tirith, spending money quite freely. I don't know if I ever expect to make it back there, really, but if I do I'll have quite the assortment waiting for me. You know the story of the ruffians on the road from Bree, of course. I slew two of them, as they ambushed me, then ran all the way to the Buckland gate. They dared follow no farther. And now, I'm here." He smiled at her, abruptly finishing his drawn-out story. He leaned further back, sipping on his mostly-drank ale, waiting for her to comment. Aman had been quite quiet through the story, letting Beren go on and on, listening to the ramblings of his childhood with interest. "You told the Shirrif about the ruffians then, right? We've been having quite a lot of trouble with them recently, attacking groups of hobbits on the way to Bree for parts and such. Dasterdly devils are impossible to track down it seems." "Well, I don't know how much I can do about that. I'm not exactly a soldier, but I've had some experience with a blade. I offered my services to the Shirrif, at any rate, so perhaps a time will come when I'll meet up with them again. He shook the thought off, oddly concentrating on the here and now for once, which was, perhaps due more to his company than his thoughts on the ruffains. "Aman! Get in here and help me serve this food, it's been cooked up for an age now, girl." The cook bellowed from behind in the kitchen. "And if you're talking with that man Beren, he can come and 'elp get these dishes out if he likes. I doubt he'll mind too much helping out you." There was an odd chuckle from the area of the stove, which caused both faces to go slightly pink. Not a comment was thrown about the Cook's last words. As they entered, Aman and Beren began helping the cook to slice the soft, freshly baked bread. "You know Aman, Derufin's still looking for someone to share that extra room with, in the stables." The cook's voice oddly projected more towards Beren, than the adressed Innkeeper. "So, in case you hear of anyone wanting a room for a slightly extended time, you should inform them about it, you seem to hear more from the patrons than I get to." "A room! Why.." She excalimed the words, then turned to face Beren, "Beren, how would you like to bunk up out in the stables? Seeing as how well you and Derufin were already getting along. It would save you quite the coin in renting a room here, anyway, and it would be the least we could do for our new Gardener. You were planning on staying on, weren't you?" She said this last part, looking up into his eyes. "I..I..well, of course I was planning on staying here, and the stablemaster is certainly a kindly fellow. He doesn't have that larger-town feel to him, anyway." Beren smiled as he said his words, realising perhaps he had finally found a home, where no other place would suit him. "Well then, good gardener, I'm sure Derufin will be very happy to hear it. I'll be telling him next time he comes in here, asking for food, or you can tell him if you happen to brush past him before I do." The cook turned back to the food in front of her, obviously done with them. Beren and Aman stood, side by side, slicing bread and vegetables for the next meal of the day, silently laughing among themselves as the Cook turned to wink at each of them, trying to disguise her obvious facination. [ July 31, 2003: Message edited by: Beren87 ]