The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[piosenniel]

It is late afternoon, edging onto evening at the Green Dragon Inn. Supper will be served soon, The fragrant scent of roast lamb with rosemary is in the air, to be served with boiled and buttered taters, and fresh, glistening peas from the garden.

Apple pie is hot from the ovens and just cooling for dessert.

The evening is a fair one . . . no chill breezes or hint of storm.

[Firefoot]

Lily had barely gotten over the delight of remembering that poor old hobbit with the geese when Posco brought up the river episode. She fought with her own laughter as she began to tell the story.

"We didn't want to take the bridge? More like the ponies didn't want to take the bridge. For some odd reason both of them shied away from it, and no amount of cajoling could get them over it. The little river wasn't very wide; a couple times my height at the most. So we heeled the ponies into the water, and wouldn't you know it but that narrow river had to be at least six feet deep! It just dropped off and suddenly there wasn't any sand under the ponies' feet any more. Then when we reached the other bank I nearly fell off Clover as he tried to scramble up the bank. By the time we were on firm ground again, we were positively soaked."

Now they were all laughing, and even Marcho had a few chuckles. Lily and Posco shared a look of common understanding. The others could laugh at their eventful ride, but only they had experienced it. There was a light in Posco's eyes that Lily had become familiar with over the course of their ride. When the laughter died down, Lily said, "Now you can tell them about the grumpy old farmer who set his dogs on us."

[Envinyatar]

Derufin had gathered his tools together along with the stack of shingles and the bucket of pitchy sealant he had been using on the roof. Only the roofing for the newly added room need be finished up on the morrow; for tonight he spread a tightly woven canvas over the new beams to protect the interior.

He was just coming down the ladder for the last time, the bucket of congealing tarry pitch in one hand, when he saw Miz Bunce come stamping up the narrow dirt pathway to the cottage, a look of determination on her face. Leaning himself against the ladder, he waved to her as she looked up at him. She nodded, the brim of her calico sunbonnet dipping up and down in acknowledgement of him.

But she did not stop at the foot of the ladder as he thought she might, to wait for him. Instead, she went directly into the cottage. And as he peeked through the window he could see her looking into the rooms as she called out in a questioning voice. ‘Master Banks? Are you here?’ A few moments later and he could hear the low pitched answer from Andwise and then the start of a conversation between the two Hobbits.

Ferdy came hurrying out of the cottage carrying his toolchest and began loading it into the small cart he had brought. Derufin secured his own materials and walked over to where the young man stood. ‘About time for supper, eh?! I was thinking I could smell the lamb roasting in the Inn oven while I was up on the roof.’ He cast an eye toward the cottage where Cook and Andwise were. ‘Shall we get them out here and walk over to the Inn with them?’ Derufin went on. The four other Hoobit lads had already gone on toward the Inn, their tasks done for the day.

‘I think we should go on and let them catch up,’ answered Ferdy. ‘Cook shooed me outside . . . said she had something of import to talk over with my Da. Business of some sort – she mentioned something about a cabinet in the kitchen needing fixing . . .’

The two plodded along slowly, leading the pony and cart along between them back toward the Inn. A cabinet! What cabinet was that needed repair? Derufin had been in the kitchen for breakfast just this morning. The cabinets as far as he could recall all looked to be in good working order.

Now, what was this all about . . .?

[Witch_Queen]

Adu sat there thinking about everything and her plans for the future. "What if Hama doesn't come back? What then?" Adu looked at the elf setting at a near-by table. Fáinu had returned. She smiled and stood up. "Its nice to see that you have decided to come back. So I hope everything between you and the dwarf went well." Adu figured that something wasn't right. For some reason the elf didn't seem himself.

She forced her thoughts to the back of her mind. She didn't need to worry about anything right now. "Fáinu so now what do you plan to do? Are you going back to Imladris or perhaps you will stay here for a while. I could use some company until my friend returns." Adu remembered the last person she had talked to while Hama was gone was her dear friend Jack. Even now she still coudn't forget the man that broke her already broken heart.

Adu's mind wandered inside her head. It didn't matter how much she tried to forget about her past it always seemed to haunt her. She knew she could rest easily now knowing that Dorian was dead. Perhaps some day I will feel worthy enough to leave these lands. Yet right now is a different story. How can I leave a land that still needs me. That is what I don't understand about my kind. Why leave a land that still needs the beauty of the elves. To me leaving is only accepting a death that will never come.

Adu blinked her eyelids and realized that she had drifted from reality. Her grey eyes rested on the figure in front of her. Adu reached out her hand and placed it on Fáinu's good hand. "So what are you going to do? Will you stay here and keep me company before I decided to return to my home in Rohan?"

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Adu reached out her hand and placed it on Fáinu's good hand. "So what are you going to do? Will you stay here and keep me company before I decided to return to my home in Rohan?"

Fáinu smiled and looked up. He knew that he could not hide anything from another elf, he knew that few could hide things from him and knew that all elves have a way of seeing thoughts.

"Indeed," Fáinu said at length, "Though I may need a horse soon, Dwaline, the dwarf, told me some things that unnerved me." He looked coldly out of the window, then shook his head, "But let us not speak of it, for it concerns far off lands and I wish for rest, if but for a little while."

Adu seemed happy and content; he saw that she enjoyed the company of another elf, as did he. So far he had had few dealings with elves, Dwarves and men had been who he had dealing with when he wandered about Rhovanion.

Fáinu sniggered and looked at Adu, "You would think the Dwarves would be happy with all that gold. But no, they want more and more and so delve themselves into trouble." he shook his head, smiling.

A hobbit stumbled passed pushed the door, little did he realise it needed to be pulled. The Hobbit began to be angered with the door.

"If you don't open up!" he slurred, "I'm going to get tough on you!" then another Hobbit opened the door from outside and the Hobbit fell back. "Dang doors, you have to put them in their place." he them hobbled out.

Fáinu smirked and thought it reminded him of several elves in Mirkwood. The wine from dale was not nearly as nice as that he had received here, but the Hobbits seem to need to drink a lot more before it had any effect on them.

"Where are your friends?" asked Fáinu looking back at Adu, "coming from Rohan? How long should it be before they arrive?"

[piosenniel]

It is late afternoon, edging onto evening at the Green Dragon Inn. Supper will be served soon, The fragrant scent of roast lamb with rosemary is in the air, to be served with boiled and buttered taters, and fresh, glistening peas from the garden.

Apple pie is hot from the ovens and just cooling for dessert.

The evening is a fair one . . . no chill breezes or hint of storm.

[starkat]

Gwenneth had been so deep in conversation with Ascasir and Isilme, that she hadn't realized that time was slipping away. With the smell of apple pie waifting in from the kitchen, Gwenneth took leave of her companions and headed for the barn.

She entered and spotted Elenath. The young elf maid picked up some grooming tools and entered the stall. Gwenneth greeted her mare and began brushing her.

[Saurreg]

Ascasir signed softly to himself, elven eyes tailing Gwenneth as she made her way out ouf the serving hall. The Silvan elf rubbed his chin ruefully for a moment and his delicate brows knitted together in thought. Turning back to the table, he looked upon Isilmë and frowned,

"Friend Isilmë, I wonder if we have been rude by somewhat beating around the bush when that fair creation of Illuvatar's suggested we go horse riding. I do so fear that our conduct was unbecoming and may have irritated her We have after all, not given her a definitive reply!"

The Galadhrim shrugged his shoulders and replied,

"True friend Ascasir. But since neither one of us here has a horse to call our own, it is highly unlikely we would have been able to accomodate her suggestion. Unless of course she rides upon her swift steed and glides through fields and meadows like some fair maiar from the west while, we run behind her... trashing about like pack dogs."

"That would have been quite unsightly."

"Indeed."

Arien was charting her course west and the rays of the sun stretched even further through the wall openings of the Green Dragon until they touched the wall on the opposite end of the windows. The light was now a shade of rich amber rather than golden yellow, but it was still comfortably warm. A strong aroma of baked apples and buttery crust diffused through the air.

Acasir smiled wanely in satisfaction as he slumped lazily down the sturdy wooden chair and closed his eyes.

[Nurumaiel]

Posco shuddered slightly. 'The farmer who set his dogs upon us? I was quite frightened.' He blushed rather sheepishly when Blanco gave him a reassuring pat on the back. 'Well, it was shortly after we had gotten out of the river, and as we were just beginning to dry off we came to a farmer's place. We were bold enough to jump the fence and ride over his land, and apparently we ignorantly trampled over his little flower garden, which we thought was just a bunch of wildflowers. I stooped down to pick some for Lily - ' here he blushed ' - and just as I did I heard some terrible cries and the howling of dogs. The farmer shouted all kinds of awful things to us, and we had to turn and run back. Fortunately our ponies we faster than the dogs, but they kept good pace until we came to the stream again, where they began to slow. The ponies were terrified, however, and wouldn't stop until they were across the stream, and we got soaking wet again.'

'Just when we were beginning to dry,' said Lily with a little sigh.

'Did you lose the flowers?' Blanco asked. 'What a pity!'

Posco shook his head. 'I did not!' he cried. 'I held onto them the whole way.' And he gestured to Lily's head, where a pretty bunch of bright flowers rested in her hair.

[Amanaduial the archer]

As twilight settled across the undulating hills and rolling hills, the farmers and field workers of the Shire set off home, and the sherpherds and cow-herds began to set off home. One such shepherd, a certain Calico Proudfoot, started from his peaceful half-doze under a widebrimmed horsechestnut tree as he heard the sound of pounding hooves, many of them by the sound of it. Sitting sharply upright, Calico pushed the worn, fraying straw hat back from his eyes and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes surreptitiously as he gathered his wits, before standing a little unsteadily, attempting nonchalantly to flatten the creases out of his dungarees. Looking more closely at aforementioned creases, he rubbed at them a little harder, a wrinkle building in his young brow - why, his wife would have his guts for garters if he appeared home in this state! Ah, Buttercup Proudfoot, belle of Near Bag End, as radiant and dainty and glowing as her namesake. A regular... Calico struggled in his mind to think of some way to describe his wife, before giving up. Well, she was lovely anyway, and once her reluctant father had acquiested Calico's tentative request for her hand in marriage six months ago, Buttercup and Calico had been joined for all eternity. Only eternities were, well, rather funny things: Calico could swear he had already seen a fair few of them pass by with his fair wife by his side.

Not that she wasn't lovely, the gentle spirited hobbit-tween ammended hastily, even in his mind feeling guilty for any word against Buttercup, but, well, she was rather...domineering. He gave a pleased little smile at this thought, rather proud of such complex wording. Yes, that's right, she was domineering, and if anyman was to say any worse, he'd have their guts for garters. He paused, a small frown appearing once more on his chubby face as he considered the idea. Well, he wouldn't, being as he didn't wear garters and all, but...well, certainly someone would have their guts for garters, or some other part of their clothing. Maybe his little wife would like them for her garters? Well, maybe not, don't suppose Buttercup would be very into guts being worn as any sort of clothing...

So caught up was he in such a complex and confusing line of thought about who exactly would be wearing wear whose entrails, the many hooves had completely slipped his mind, only to be remembered when a polite cough came from nearby. Calico jumped a clear inch off the ground, one pudgy hand whipping up to tyhe top of his head to steady his hat as he looked around, wide-eyed. When he saw the owner of said polite cough, he took another step backwards...then another, just for good measure. "Oh....um...oh," he stammered uneasily, hand still clutching the top of his hat. In front of him rose an altogether rather menacing looking figure: a darkly cloaked rider, it's features obscured by the setting sun behind which cast an eerie glow of red and gold around it. It silently regarded him from atop a giant black horse, about seventeen inches high and dark as the night; beside this darksome beast stood another, smaller horse, an unmoving statue seemingly carved of fine, flecked stone, it's grey coat seeming to change colour subtly at the edge of the eyesight, greys, blacks and whites all playing a part in the dappled beauty. Both horses breathed heavily, and Calico could not help noticing that the black horse's panting definitely had a decidedly menacing edge to it; and horsey, what large nostrils you have...

Altogether a rather unsettling image for a young hobbit of an evening.

"Oh-h-h..." Calico moaned quietly, his saucer eyes gazing up at the black beast less than two feet away.

The rider's head tilted to one side and Calico gave a stifled gasp and shut his eyes tightly. There was a rather embarassed pause before a voice spoke. "Are...are you alright, sir?"

Calico frowned slightly, but did not open his eyes. Certainly, that did not sound like him much like the ghastly intonation of a dread horseman from t'other side of Doom. For one thing, it was female. Still, you never knew what sorts of new fangled tricks were being thought up on t'other side of Doom, and so Calico kept his eyes tightly shut. Still, it was nice of 'it' to ask, even if it was a dread horseman from t'other side of Doom, so, ever a well-mannered boy, the hobbit nodded tightly and gave a muted, strangled sound of affirmation from pursed lips. Deciding maybe more was needed, he managed, "Yes, thank you," still with his eyes closed. Naturally.

There was a pause and the distinct sound of someone licking their lips uncertainly. "Oh. Good. Well, I was just wondering if you would maybe like some help gathering in...your...sheep?"

Calico gasped and his eyes very nearly opened although he restrained himself just in time. "How did you know I was a shepherd?!"

Pause. "The...sheep. They....well, I'm afraid they rather gave it away," came the steady reply. Although it was perfectly courteous, Calico was almost - almost - sure that he heard it tinged with a smile. Did dread horsemen smile? Who knows...certainly it was an altogether more Brandybuck-like business than Calico liked to contemplate.

"Oh. No, thank you, sir horseman."

"Sure?"

"No, thank'ee. I'm sure you have other...business to attend to."

"Oh. Right. Ok, well, it's just...I didn't...well, alright." There was a second's stop, then the rider burst out, "It's just that they're all scattered and-"

"I think you may have scared them, sir horseman."

There was yet another lengthy and slightly embarassed pause, followed by an exasperated sigh, a few clicking noises - some black tongue?! - before the hooves started to move again, and the rider began to ride off, slowly.

"Sir- hmm. We- hmm. I- hmm." Pause. "Well, then I shall bid you good evening, sir. And I hope to see you at the handfasting!"

The last words were almost obscured by the sound of eight hooves as they sped up, but Calico was sure of what he had heard, and his eyes opened wide as he whirled around to look after the rider, but saw only a disappearing back riding down the hill, topped by what certainly looked like - and maybe it was a trick of the mind, or the eye, or whoever else likes to interfere with sight - what certainly looked like a pair of scruffy light brown pigtails streaming back. As only the head was still in view, the rider raised a hand and waved back to Calico, before it disappeared altogether.

Calico stayed completely still for some time even after the sound of hooves had disappeared, staring in the direction the rider had gone. Had he heard right? Had he seen right?! A female dread rider, waving back, talking of help and handfasting... Calico shook himself vigourously, is chubby face all a-quiver as he leant down to pick up his crook. Something here was certainly not right. Still, now he came to think about it - well, you got all sorts at the Green Dragon, not a mile hence. Folk from all over, and others who had seen all over - surely one of them would be able to explain? Certainly he couldn't come home so a-quiver to his fine but domineering wife, dirty dungarees and all, and have no solid and reliable proof from a-man-in-an-Inn that he was not just making up the darksome rider from t'other side of doom with two horses and helpful talk and a woman's voice and...and...pigtails...

As Calico firmed up the image of the rider in his head, herding his sheep absently down the hillside to his modest farm, the 'darksome rider' arrived back after two days in the courtyard of the Green Dragon Inn, and dismounted to greet Merimac with a grin.

"Evening, Miz Aman..."

[Firefoot]

It was now Lily's turn to blush. She loved the flowers, wreathed about her head, but she knew her hair must be extremely mussed. Between their mad gallop and the river, her braid had fallen out and she had used the ribbon to secure the flowers. But despite her wind-blown hair, she was quite pleased. Posco had held on to those flowers for her, and she knew that they would be kept for quite some time.

"I suppose that is about the last of our 'adventures,'" said Lily. "The rest of the ride was rather uneventful, and after we had dried off, we headed back here. Though I must say, after all that I think I have found the Shire to be quite an interesting place, very different from Bree and yet a lot alike as well." The rolling hills and well-tended fields were very much to her liking. She mused that she might like to live there, and though the thought surprised her, she was comfortable with it. She realized that she was drifting off into her own thoughts, and snapped out of it.

“So what were you all doing while we were gone? Did anything of interest happen?” she asked.

[Arry]

Andwise walked slowly toward the Inn. Not that he was tired . . . it was more that he had some thinking to do . . . and he often found it better to do so in solitude and without haste. He drew his pouch of pipeweed from his vest pocket and tamped in a generous pinch to the bowl of his cherrywood pipe. It remained unlit as he ambled on, his hand moving the pipestem along his lower lip as his thoughts jumbled about. The rich, familiar smell of the Southfarthing’s sweet galenas soothed him a bit, and soon he was stacking his questions and ponderings in neat piles, as he did his stacks of woods in his workshop at home.

His eyes flicked up as he noticed Miz Bunce stumping along in the distance ahead of him. And further on were Derufin and his Ferdy, almost to the Inn. ‘My, my,’ he sighed, as he looked at his son and considered him a different light altogether. ‘He has grown up, hasn’t he Lily?’ he said pointing the stem of his pipe at the young man. Andwise was often given to talking to his dear departed wife, in spirit, as he sorted through the problems that beset him. ‘And now I see what Ma was trying to get at with her talk of how lads need to be pushed a bit as they grow older. Not right, she said, a young man be spending all his time with wood and sawdust.’

He chuckled a little at the no nonsense approach of Miz Bunce. Never one to talk around a subject, Cook had gotten straight to the point. The boy’s, no the lad’s, Ma was not here to do for him, and so she was offering to do so. A lass had come to her, Miz Bunce had told him, a lass quite fond of Ferdy and asked for help in letting Ferdy know of her interest and determining whether said interest was mutual. ‘I’ve done so for my own lads, Master Banks,’ she assured him. ‘And I have to tell you, I can be gentle as needed or deliver the needed wallop should the lad prove mulish.’ Andwise had spluttered at the thought of Ferdy being thought in the least mulish, assuring the dear lady that gentle would most like be the best way.

‘Are you certain I shouldn’t be the one to talk to him,’ asked Andwise, an unsure tone in his voice. ‘Best I speak with him first,’ rejoined Cook. ‘A few words from a neutral observer, so to speak. Let him know there’s someone with an interest.’ She looked Andwise squarely in the face. ‘But then you should be the one to follow up on it. Being the lad’s father, a few words of guidance from your own experience would be quite helpful. Don’t you think?’

‘And who is this lass who’s come to you?’ Andwise asked, not wanting to consider Cook’s preceding question just yet. ‘And just how does she know my Ferdy?’ A note of possessive concern crept into his voice. ‘When shall I meet her?’

Cook shook her head, wondering at the thick-headedness of the Hobbit male. ‘Oh, my dear Master Banks,’ she answered, ‘why you’ve met her already . . . and often.’ His brow furrowed, trying to think who she might mean. ‘Ginger,’ Cook went on, smiling a bit as his brows rose at the mention of the girl’s name. ‘It’s Ginger who’s asked for my assistance.’

----------

The last few yards to the kitchen entrance of the Inn had to wait as Andwise stopped at the pump to wash his hands and face. He passed through the busy kitchen on his way to the Common Room to have supper with the others. Cook nodded at him as he went by her and there was Ginger, just taking up platters of sliced lamb roast, bowls of taters and those of buttered peas on a large carrying tray to take into the hungry patrons. ‘Here let me hold the door for you,’ he offered drawing the kitchen door open and waving her through. She colored prettily and bobbed a little thanks as she went by him. As with Ferdy, his view of her was caught in a new light as he saw the promise of young womanhood she now bore . . . and had probably borne for a while . . .

His thoughts drifted far back to his own time of courting and the sweet face of his dear Lily beamed at him in his memory as he drew up to the table where the other fellows sat. Ginger went ably about the table, he saw, seeing to the needs of the patrons in her care. Cook, he smiled to himself, had of course made sure she would serve at Ferdy’s table. The lass was gracious and efficient as she handled the platters of food and the condiments.

‘Miz Bunce has asked that you see to one of her cabinets tomorrow morning,’ he whispered, leaning toward Ferdy. ‘I’ve told her I can spare you and that you’ll be glad to help.’

Ferdy glance up at him nodding his head, wondering all the while why his Da was telling him this again.

‘She’s a wonderful woman, Cook is,’ his father went on, buttering a thick slice of bread as he went on. ‘You listen well to her instructions, you hear?’

‘Well, yes, Da,’ said Ferdy, tucking into his potatoes with a will. Surely he thought, she doesn’t mean to tell me how I am to fix the cabinet, does she? He looked to his father, a mouthful of potato half chewed.

‘Right, then,’ said Andwise. ‘Tomorrow bright and early you report to the kitchen.’ He reached for the bowl of glistening peas and helped himself to a couple of serving-spoonsful. ‘All settled, then . . . good, good,’ he murmured. Ginger came near with the platter of lamb and he beamed generously up at her. ‘Don’t mind if I do, my dear . . .’ he said forking two juicy slices onto his waiting plate.

[Nurumaiel]

Blanco shook his head emphathetically, and stated that they had done nothing at all but wait for the return of the riders. Posco regarded Lily with a thoughtful eye. She said she enjoyed the Shire, and he wondered what she would of Buckland if she ever saw it. He wondered if she would love it, and if she would want to live there. He coloured at the thought, but he continued to dwell upon it. Surely there was not much more now. He loved Lily, he loved her as much as he could having only known her a day, and he loved her more every moment. He would want to take her home as his bride as soon as he left, but he knew he must wait. It was unnatural for a hobbit to marry a girl he had only known a day. He would have to court her for awhile yet. But time would pass. The only question was: Did she love him?

He studied her hair, fair in his eyes despite that it was tangled, and her sparkling eyes, and her rosy cheeks, and her smiling lips. Surely there was no lass fairer than she. Queen of all Buckland, he would make her, for she was fair enough for a Queen. But he? Ah, he was a blushing little fool who never could appear presentable as his brother, and he couldn't possibly give Lily the enjoyment she would want. She was a friendly, lively little thing, and she would want to go to all the dances, while he would want to stay home. Well! Posco squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. If she wanted to go to dances, she very well could, and he would go with nothing but pride to have such a pretty little wife by his side, and pleasure to be honoured enough to dance with her. First, of course, he must court her, and then he must ask for her hand. And he did not know her father.

'Tell me, Lily,' he said, 'a little more about your family, especially your father.' He looked nervously at her, and wondered if she would guess what he was thinking of. It would be humiliating if she did, and he would lose the fight before it was begun. 'Is he a kind sort of fellow? And what is he like as far as you are concerned? Would he consider you too good to marry a poor lad and want you to marry to someone prominent?' Her face had a curious expression, and he wondered madly if she were guessing his thoughts. He hastily went on, staggering over his words and eventually trailing off into nothinginess. 'Because if he does... I could... introduce you to someone... prominent...'

[Firefoot]

"Tell me, Lily, a little more about your family, especially your father," said Posco. "Is he a kind sort of fellow? And what is he like as far as you are concerned?" Lily wondered where he was going with this. "Would he consider you too good to marry a poor lad and want you to marry to someone prominent? Because if he does... I could... introduce you to someone... prominent..." He drifted off, blushing. Suddenly, Lily thought she realized what Posco was trying to get at. Oh, Posco, dear Posco, don't you realize that it is you I love? she thought.

"Well," said Lily. "Perhaps I told you last night that I live with my aunt and uncle, and it is they that are primarily responsible for me. I have seen my real parents very little in many years, but I will tell you what I can. I certainly would not call my family rich, but we got on all right. My father worked hard at his store for what we had. My earliest memories are surrounded by love and laughter. On some nights my mother would get out her fiddle and play, and my father would dance with us children. There were six of us, myself being the third. When I was only seven, though, his store was burned down by a lightning, and with the exception of my next youngest brother and me, my family moved out to Archet where my mother's family lived. After losing everything, my parents were unable to support six growing children. My brother and I moved in with my aunt and uncle who had no children of their own. In the years since my father's primary concern for us - me - has been that we were happy, which I was. All I really want from life are the things I was raised with: love and happiness. And so far, I have found both. Wealth and prominence do not matter nearly so much."

Lily thought she saw relief etched out on Posco's face. She was glad. Sometime when she was talking the thought had crossed her mind that if she said one wrong thing she might end up putting a block between Posco and her, not by design but by something that might make him feel he was not good enough. She wished she could be more open, but there were too many people around, and she would not want to embarass him.

"I think that that is all you could want to know about my family. Maybe you will meet them eventually," said Lily.

[Nurumaiel]

Blanco was not listening to Lily's narrative of her family, for he was concentrating keenly upon something else. He knew his brother's mind and heart, and he knew what those questions meant. He had known since last night that Posco loved Lily, and he had resolved then to fight so he might win her himself. Oh, he had known that ride would create difficulties for him. Posco was growing bolder. Did Lily love Posco? That was the only thing that mattered now.

'Maybe I will want to meet them,' said Posco in reply to Lily. 'I feel quite certain that I will want to meet them sooner or later.' He blushed again, for he felt the eyes of all those at the table studying him (save Donnamira). 'That is to say, if they are as good and kind as you I would be delighted to meet them as well. I enjoy having kind friends...' He trailed off in confusion.

The scent of supper drifted in from the kitchen, and each hobbit drew in a breath and let it out slowly, and Blanco murmured reverently, 'Taters!'

Peony smiled at him and glanced out the window at the evening sky, and she wondered if her own mother were preparing supper. Her eyes went back to the faces at the table, and then they quickly flew back to the window, and widened. Blanco noticed this and observed her keenly. Her eyes dropped, some colour rose to her cheeks, and she was silent for a few moments while another friendly conversation was begun. Then at last she stood gracefully and said, 'Do excuse me, but I feel the need for fresh air.'

'Would you like me to go with you, Peony?' Blanco questioned. She shook her head and replied, 'No, I would not have any of you bothered at my expense. I am just going to take a little walk about the Inn grounds. I will be back before supper is served.' And she departed.

'I don't know if I have already asked you this, Lily,' said Posco after a momentary pause, 'but when are you leaving Bywater to go home?'

[Firefoot]

Well did Lily understand Peony's need for fresh air. After spending too long inside she often felt the same way. She was pulled back to the conversation by Posco's question.

"I am not sure. I left Bree with very few plans, but I expect that I will be leaving Bywater within a few days, though I may not go straight home," she said. Secretly, she had already made up her mind to travel through Buckland. She wasn't exactly sure what she would do there, but her mind was made up. Maybe if she was lucky she would see Posco, though she supposed the chances were rather slim.

"And you are leaving soon, too," she said sadly, though there was a hint of a question in the statement.

[Lalwendë]

Jinniver woke to the rich aroma of roasting lamb drifting up from the common room to her bed chamber. She rolled from the bed, and started to wash and dress in clean clothes for supper. Her clothes were grimy as usual, and she had more dirt than ever down her fingernails. She felt groggy and splashed her eyes with cold water, which made her start. The sun was setting and the fiery glow through the window lit up her loosened hair. She fluffed it out, pulling a face into the looking-glass, and then started to bind it back into tidy braids.

It had been a long day for her, in many ways, and when she had gone back to her bedchamber intending to wash, she had sat for a moment on the soft bed and had fallen asleep. She had met Mr Proudfoot in the morning, and then had been asked to plant a little garden for Derufin's bride to be. Then, of course, she had told the tale of her dark days in Bree. The telling of the tale had not been hard, it was the thought of telling it that was the worst thing, the fear of speaking those words aloud. And yet now she had related what happened all those years ago, she felt unburdened. She was no less angry about what had happened, but the anger did not grip her when she thought of it.

Jinniver felt as though a small part of her that was missing had been somehow returned, yet she felt a little worried that she may have frightened her new acquaintances with her story, even though many of those in The Shire would have much worse to tell; Jinniver was too wrapped in her own concerns to consider this. She grimaced as she thought of the good shire folk thinking her odd.

Once Jinniver had told her tale, she had taken an hour to inspect the garden beds which Derufin wanted planting. She had been surprised to find remnants of the old plants growing there, hidden in the weeds, and she had devised a planting idea which would use the existing plants, as she always thought it a shame to rip up a perfectly good, mature specimen. The soil was rich too, and she could see that there would be little problem in growing almost anything there.

After inspecting the garden and making her delivery to Mr Proudfoot's smial, where she had discovered Mrs Proudfoot was just as round and amiable as her husband, she had written to her father.

"Dear Father, I am well. I am staying at The Green Dragon Inn, a respectable place on the edge of Hobbiton. You might have heard tell of it before. My lodgings are clean and comfortable and the food is good, and the local folks are most friendly, not at all odd. I have been asked if I can plant up a little garden for some nice young folks who are to be wed, and so I must ask you if you can send me a selection of plants. I have written you a list and it is with this message. If you send them tomorrow, as soon as you have read this, then I will get them the day after. Ask young Ashwyn about them, she has these plants are ready in the nursery house. Let's hope you are not still abed when the messenger arrives.

“I will be staying for a few more days here, until I have finished this gardening job. I may stay longer if you will allow it, as I am getting lots of names and addresses for orders. Think of all you can do with what I earn here. That is as good as any of our fireside tales that you might be missing.

While I am away, tell Ashwyn to keep up her book-learning, and make sure to lock the kitchen door up fast. "

Jinniver felt as though she had been away from Bree for much longer than a couple of days, and when she thought of her father she felt nervous, hoping he was happy and safe. Still, she knew he would be glad to have her niece about the place, even if she was a little cheeky. And besides, she had reminded her brother to look in on them at least once a day. Pulling on her long tunic, she sighed, and then the smell of the roasting lamb and the thought of the good company downstairs took her out of the room.

[Nurumaiel]

Posco glanced at Marcho, and the latter nodded his head firmly and said, 'We'll be leaving tomorrow, like as not.'

Blanco threw back his head and howled dismally. 'So soon?' he cried. 'Oh, can't we stay longer?' He and Posco looked miserably at each other, at Lily, and back at each other again. Bingo gazed at them earnestly for some time, and then began to plead with Marcho. Marcho seemed to waver under Bingo's begging, but he said no more but that he would consider staying longer.

Peony had walked calmly out of the Inn, but as soon as the door had closed behind her she had flown to the window she had been looking at earlier, and her eyes searched here and there until she saw a hobbit lad leaning again the stable wall. With a little cry she sprang towards him, saying, 'Hal Brandybuck!'

He turned, and his eyes lit up as he took the hands she held out to him. 'My dear Peony,' he said, bending forward to brush his lips against her cheek, 'what a pleasant surprise to see you here.' He was a little taller than her, with light brown hair and brown eyes, and a face that was slightly tanned from days in the sun. His hands were calloused, but they held Peony's own little white hands with a gentleness rarely equaled. He was dressed in the garb of most farmers of Buckland, though his overcoat suggested he had been travelling, and the mud on it signified that he had been travelling long enough to have ridden through the rain of the earlier day. Peony's eyes were shining as she gazed up at his, and his own displayed great warmth and affection.

'Is it really so great a surprise, Hal?' she asked, blushing slightly. 'I cannot think of what business you would have here... unless...'

'Unless it was to find you, you do mean,' said Hal. He turned and began to stroll towards the garden, and she slipped her arm through his own. His heart seemed to skip a beat at the touch of that sweet hand on his sleeve, and his eyes filled with adoration for the pretty lass at his side. 'To tell you the truth, Peony, I did come here to find you. I heard where you were going and I became afraid that you would not be coming back for some time.' He looked with boyish earnestness into her face.

She laughed lightly and her eyes twinkled. 'Silly lad!' she said. 'I am going home tomorrow, if the weather is fair. You did not need to ride so far to see me. You must have left before I did if you were riding in yesterday's rain. I am surprised I did not pass you on the road.'

'My pony has gone slightly lame and I did not want to put strain upon him by riding swiftly.' He paused, and then he patted the hand that held lightly onto his arm. 'Dear Peony, if I know your aunt you won't be back for at least a week. She'll take a fancy to having someone about to help her and amuse her, and she'll want you to stay longer. Of course you won't say no.'

'Maybe not,' said Peony, 'and I'm sure I will not now that you are here. Do you intend to stay at the Inn?'

'Yes:' said Hal: 'until you come home with me.'

'Silly lad!' said Peony again. 'I will go home with my brothers, more than likely. I can't go home with you, not until my father gives his permission.'

'I know,' said Hal, and a cloud of sorrow passed over his face. He turned and took both her hands in his, kissing them, and he said, 'Darling dearie, I have loved you for so long, and I have waited so long for you. How cruel your father is to keep us apart so!'

'Please, Hal, I would not have you make a scene,' said Peony, laughing in some amusement. 'Surely people will not be annoyed to see the face of you, but it would be humiliating for me. And... for my father's sake... he does not even approve of a kiss and a tender word of devotion.' She gently pulled her hands from his, and took his arm again. 'If it is to pass that we become each other's, it will pass. Father will change his heart and mind if it is to be. Don't worry, Hal.'

Blanco was standing at the window, and he saw Peony standing with Hal, and he turned a beaming face to his brother. 'Posco, look!' he said, when he was quite certain that he could call the attention of his brother and friends without causing Peony any embarrassment. 'Hal is here!' Posco's face lit up and he said, 'Let us go out and greet him.' He stood, pulled Lily's chair out from the table so she might stand easier, and said, 'Lily, would you like to meet Mr. Hal Brandybuck? He will probably be my sister's husband before too long.'

[Firefoot]

Lily arose from her seat, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears. She was curious about the hobbit that had caused such a stir in Posco’s family. She was also quite confident she would like Hal Brandybuck, based on Posco’s descriptions. Out loud, she said, “I would like to meet him very much.” Their small group made its way outside, and Peony spotted them almost immediately. She waved them over, saying, “I thought I told you all not to bother yourselves.” She was smiling though.

“I saw you two through the window and we had to come say hello,” explained Blanco. Lily thought she saw the faintest hint of a blush on Peony’s face, but it may have just been the fresh air.

“Nice to see you again, Hal,” said Posco. “This is Lily. Lily, this is Hal Brandybuck.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Lily. Hal replied, “And you, Miss Lily.” The introductions having been made, they began to walk. She stayed by Posco’s side, and Hal and Peony walked together as well. Lily had known Peony for only a few hours and Hal a few moments, but it was evident to her that the two of them were meant for each other. Silently, she wished them the best of luck.

[Witch_Queen]

"He should be here anytime now." Adu looked around and realizing that she was searching for someone she knew wasn't there was just a waste of her time. She had nothing to do and only time to waste. Adu dropped her gaze. She had nothing now and no one to even care about her. All her life was going to be spent loosing those around her. Everyone would abandon her when she needed them the most. "Fáinu, what do I do now? Perhaps Hama has forgotten about me. Do I just stay here and spend all my days waiting for him when I don't even know if he is still alive. Please help me." Adu realized that she was crying but it didn't even come out in her voice. She looked up and the sun light glinted off of the tears on her cheek.

I feel so alone and yet I'm not. Why can't I just forget about everything and just leave this life behind me. Adu's heart was breaking and yet it was still whole. She couldn't tell whether or not what she was doing was right. After all her years traveling with Hama and Durian she figured that her heart would be stone by now. Instead it was breaking and she couldn't do anything to stop it.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Fáinu felt very sorry for Adu. his history was painful, he perceived that hers was even more so. Revenge he had sought, and found not, now he had nothing to look for in life. But Dwaline's words of dark shadows and of servants of evil still wandering the world made him think that time may show forth yet something.

For a time the both sat in silence, Fáinu was deep in thought; his eyes seemed glazed as if he was looking at something far off. He blinked quickly and looked back at Adu, then stared into his mug, the ale did not seem so appetising as it once did.

"Do not fear, Aduthondiel." Fáinu said "Aid I have given to many,” even though seldom have I received it myself, save from Elrond, and he is gone. "but to none more needy as thee" he looked her in the eyes and saw that she wept. "But what aid would you ask of me? For my strength lessens and the pain of my wound grows as the power of the elves wanes."

Why should she seek my aid? All my life I have done nought to great avail. Cursed by Dragons, cased out by my own brothers, Worthy of nothing, not even revenge that I sought.
He shook his head and regained his thoughts, Nay, Perhaps in this, I can achieve something, giving my aid to one I know, but a little.

[Amanaduial the archer]

As Aman moved around to the front of her horses to lead them into the stables, the large black one who she had been riding tossed his head a little and stamped his hooves a few times. Merrimac, despite all his keenness with horses, stepped back a little out of pure common sense. As the horse tossed it's head again, Aman, now standing in front, subconciously mirrored the action as she shushed him quietly, her hand coming up slowly to his nose. The horse narrowed beautiful, slanted eyes at her, regarding her, then nuzzled into her fingers affectionately. Beside it, the other horse, Rochfalmar, seemed to roll her eyes. Aman grinned at Merrimac excitedly, looking across at him as her hands moved across the side of the horse's oddly angular face.

"Isn't he beautiful?" She said delightedly. "Taydoch said the Haradrim breeders were coming, and told me they might even have been breeding with the Rohirrim steeds, I didn't believe it, of course, after all they'd been through together, the Haradrim aren't naturally forgiving-"

"Woah, woah..." Merrimac held up both hands against Aman's chattered onslaught. He flattened his palms slowly as if slowly pressing down an invisible briefcase in the air as he frowned at Aman comically. "Could...could you explain that one more time - tcha tcha tcha!" he cut her off as she opened her mouth again, and made that odd flattening motion again. "Slowly. Sensibly. And so someone who until a few years ago had never seen a horse bigger than the dumpy ten-hand ponies you see wandering the Shire with straw hats." He glanced nervously at the horse again and jerked his head towards it. "'Cos that is definitely no straw hat pony!"

Aman grinned again but calmed down, taking the reins of both the horses and starting towards the stables, her hands fiddling with the leather and often straying up fondly to one of the other of the horses' faces or manes. "Sorry, sorry, I'll try again. The last few days, I was at the horse market, on the Great East Road, you know?"

Merrimac gave a small, dry smile. "Aye, you just about mentioned it before you raced off to meet your fancy man there."

"'Fancy man'?!" Aman stared incredulously. "What, Taydoch? I've known him for years! He's not-" she stopped, and apparently considered some mental image. "Well, actually, I mean, when you say it like that, Taydoch wouldn't be at all bad, you know, he's a-"

Merrimac coughed politely.

"-but you don't want to know about that. A-anyway... the titbit that Taydoch used to really entice me - well, con me - into coming to the horse market was some information he had that some Haradrim breeders were coming. And don't look at me like that, master Merrimac, not all of the Southrons are complete savages. They're fine horsemen, when they put their minds to it - second, of course, to my people - and the creatures they produce..." Aman looked up lovingly at the huge sable horse. Merrimac eyed him warily. "You mean creatures like that thin- like him?"

"Ah, no, you see, that is where the genius comes in. Obviously the Rohirrim were there as well - a horse market wouldn't be complete without a few of us - and along with bringing the purebreeds from the Southrons and the Rohirrim...there was one breeder who brought a few cross-breeds. And that, dear Merrimac, is where my very lovely new steed comes in: one of the first in Middle Earth - whether there will be more, I don't know, but a fine beast this is, a fine beast!"

And a fine beast it was, even to the doubtful Merrimac: the horse must have been about eighteen hands, but was sleek rather than stocky, built for speed as well as strength, and would have been verging on gaunt was it not for the hints of the muscle depth that moved beneath beneath. His black fur shimmered as a muscle twitched in his shoulder, and the sable ripples that followed gave whole new tones to the colour black. His raven neck arched up elegantly in a fine curve and the head was held proudly, far more sharply boned and angular that the horses of the United Kingdom. From the sharp, angular face, the kohl rimmed eyes that looked down at you were rather slanted, black and narrowed as if against the wind or dry sand of Harad, just like the eyes of the horse's breeders. And what's more, they were intelligent: they seemed to be regarding Merrimac with a rather crafty sort of amusement.

The hobbit stared back, then raised a hand to the horse's nose, edging forward boldly although he felt anything but bold inside. The horse looked at him with those slanted, laughing eyes, then tossed his head against the stablehand's small fingers. Aman smiled. "By the West, Merrimac, I think he likes you."

Merrimac tried to look disapproving, but couldn't help a small, bashful smile, his dark cheeks reddening slightly. "Aye, well. Shall I settle them in?"

"Oh, Merrimac, you're brilliant. He won't be any trouble - why, 'Falmar and he are already getting on better, even if she seems to disapprove of such a wily colt," Aman grinned at the dappled grey mare companionably, as if they were two girls discussing a naughty but rather dashing boy.

The hobbit nodded and took the two pairs of reins, before stopping and turning back. "Oh, wait - 'he'? Have you not given the horse a name?"

"Nay given the horse- why, Merrimac, how can you suggest that!" Aman's mock outrage slipped and she nodded more soberly. "Aye, I called him after the friend I went to meet, my 'fancy man'." She rolled her eyes. "His name is Taydoch."

"Tie-dok?"

"No! Tay as in...well, think hay, but with a 'T'."

"Tay-dok?"

Aman winced at the hard ending the hobbit put on the name. "Try to soften it. Roll the 'ch' in the back of your throat, like...like..." she demonstrated, rolling the 'h'*. Merrimac tried. Aman made a face and demonstrated again. They went on for a few moments before realising how ridiculous they sounded and bursting out laughing. Aman shook her head and held up her hands, chuckling as she backed away to the Inn. "Fine, fine, have it your way, TaydoCK it is!"

Turning, she walked through the darkness into the comforting light of the Inn, where the smells of supper and the delighted call of Buttercup Brownlock greeted the Innkeeper back to the 'Dragon...

~*~*~

* the 'ch' at the end of Taydoch is said like a Hebrew/Yiddish 'ch', such as at the beginning of 'Channukah'.

[Witch_Queen]

Adu looked as if she was lost in the world. She knew where she was but then again she didn't. Adu figured her mind was playing with her. "Fáinu, I don't like to be alone. Setting her watching everyone else and their companions only make me long for company that much more. I don't know when Hama will be back and then again I don't know if he will come back. I need a friend right now and your the only one that can understand what I'm feeling." Adu wiped the tears from her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she cried like this.

I have cried myself to sleep many nights but never was it like this. Always it was for my homeland and my family. Yet they have forgotten about me. To them I am no more than a shadow. That is the way it will be..... Aduthondiel the Forgotten. She sat there staring into his eyes. She didn't know why but for some reason she didn't feel alone anymore. Realizing what she was doing Adu turned her head away from him. She could feel her cheeks burning and she knew she was blushing.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The gathering dusk opened momentarily and from it emerged a dark cloaked figure atop a great black horse. The slow tread of the hooves fell like metal into the evening light as the horseman drew into the grounds of The Green Dragon. The horse was suddenly stilled and its rider regarded the Inn from beneath the dark folds of his hood. Only his eyes could be seen, glittering with a baleful light as they sought to swallow the Inn like food. The smell of the roasting lamb fell about the horseman unnoticed, and the quietude that spread out from him began to still the yard.

With a sudden jerk, as though waking from a dream, the horse and its rider strode to the stables where the rider quickly dismounted, his high, richly made leather boots ringing loudly against the flagstones. He looped the reins over the rail and quickly removed the saddle, which he tossed upon the low stable door nearest him. The man looked in through the stable door for a moment, gazing upon something or someone who was no longer there. He sighed and moved toward the open door of the Inn, now filling with a warm and welcoming light.

He stepped into the familiar confines of the Inn and greeted the rush of sound and light with an unaccustomed smile that lit his face. Few noted his entrance with anything more than curiosity, for he was greatly changed since his last visit to the Inn, and he had learned the ways of cloaking his true self in the intervening months. His dark eyes swept about the room, searching for someone in particular, but they did not find their quarry.

Suddenly worried that perhaps he would be thwarted in his search, he strode through the room to the bar. As he approached it, there entered from the kitchen the welcome and familiar countenance of Ruby Brown. Her happy eyes met his and there was amazed recognition. Quickly dropping a curtsey, Ruby stammered out, “Welcome back, Sir! I had not thought to see you again, I must admit. Have you had a long journey?”

The man smiled at the hobbit’s warmth and placed his hands upon the bar. They were clad in rich leather gloves and as he moved his robe fell away revealing the silks and furs of a great and powerful noble. His hood, however, he left in place. Casting his voice to a lower pitch he answered Ruby quite simply. “Yes, a very long journey.”

“Well, like I always say, long or short it doesn’t matter once it’s ended.”

The man’s smile was knowing and a bit unsettling this time. “Ended? That is a claim indeed to make for my journey. I do not think that I can say that it is ended. But perhaps for a time I can delay.”

Ruby smiled at this, although she had little idea of what he was talking about. Suddenly remembering, she flushed and looked about the bar. “I suppose, Sir, that you’d be wanting to speak with Miz Aman?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I’ll just run and see if I can find her.” Ruby turned to go, but then paused and looked back. “Who should I say is asking for her, Sir?”

The dark man smiled, and pulled back his hood revealing strong dark features and his flowing raven hair. His grey eyes flashed like steel. “Why Ruby, I thought that you recognised me.”

“Indeed I do, Sir, but I wasn’t sure if you’d have a new name to go with everything else that’s changed about you.”

He laughed softly with genuine amusement. “I had forgotten how perceptive you are Ruby, like all your folk. I do indeed have a new name, many in fact, but you should use the one that I had when I came here last.”

Ruby curtsied once more. “Yes Mr. Snaveling,” she said before disappearing in search of the Innkeeper.

[Amanaduial the archer]

At the moment the door of the Common Room closed behind Snaveling, the sidedoor of the kitchen opened, releasing the fragrant smells of Cook's work into the pleasant night air. The Innkeeper, now clad in a dress, stepped out onto the step, breathing in the still air happily, her eyes closed as she took a moment to enjoy the peace and coolness. The soft green material of the dress's skirts lapped lazily around her legs and feet and the breeze gently stroked her half-exposed arms as she stood suspended on the step; after the constricting leathers, especially after several hours hard riding, the dress seemed ridiculously airy and light, and besides, Cook had made it quite clear that she would 'much prefer it' if Aman changed - the hobbit woman's glares of disapproval would send a weaker woman cowering beneath the bar.

Breathing deeply, Aman shrugged her shoulders lightly and began to walk briskly towards the stables: having changed now, she intended to check on her horses, especially Taydoch, before she went back in for the evening. Reaching the courtyard, something immediately struck her as odd, something which maybe would not have seemed so odd to newcomers to the Inn who did not know it quite as well as the Rohirrim Innkeeper.

The door was closed.

Likesay, this would not seem so strange had it not been for the fact that it was always open - both Derufin and Merrimac had a habit of leaving it open so that the warm, comforting light spilled onto the cobbles of the courtyard, giving a pre-taste of the Inn, the bright windows of which you saw when you fully rounded the corner into the courtyard. But to see it so conscientiously and carefully closed...

Approaching and lifting the latch, Aman gave an experimental push and was relieved when the door swung open with a soft creak - that meant at least that it was locked only from the outside, and that there was no one inside. Still, with horses from every race and calibre of peoples from ever inch of Middle Earth stored under one roof, it didn't pay for the owner of said roof to be at all careless. Closing the door almost entirely behind her, Aman turned to lift the lantern from behind her...and leapt as a thump punctuated the silence.

Whirling around with the lamp held high, the oil light flaring into the uncertainty of the shadows, Aman glared around wildly...and grinned in relief, feeling foolish, as she realised it was merely the sound of one of her own horses shifting. Lowering the threatening lantern and turning the little stick carefully so that the light softened, she approached them with a smile. Taydoch and Rochfalmar stood with their heads close over the half-doors of their stalls and the mare nuzzled her nose against the black stallions gently as Aman came towards them, and he reciprocated gingerly. They were getting on well then. Aman held out a hand to stroke Taydoch's nose - and stopped as she noticed the second thing that was amiss: that the ever-absent stall beside Taydoch's was no longer absent. The Innkeeper cocked her head on one side and looked speculatively at the new occupant of the stall: a huge, dark beast like Taydoch but more stockily built, it's eyes glinting with some inner fire, it's coat melding into the darkness as if woven of the night itself.

This was a horse that meant business.

Aman held out a hand to the horse and it pushed firmly at her sleeve in the search for oats - so it was obviously animal not immortal beast. She frowned slightly beneath her smile though - there was a certain something about this horse, an essence that spoke of something else...someone else... The memories stirred confidently and Aman blinked: could it be...? No, don't be silly, just because the horse happens to be the sort of steed you could imagine him riding...it doesn't mean he has returned...not when you never really expected to see him again...

Picking up her skirts and half-running out of the stables, Aman deposited the lantern hastily and made her way quickly into the Inn, pausing only to look hopefully at the window of the Inn, where the bright lights of the fire and the joy of the customers shone brightly. Was that a tall figure she saw there, wearing dark riding clothes? Or was it simply imagination...

Making her way up the steps at what Cook would have called an 'indecent pace' for a young lady, the Rohirrim woman took a deep breath as if plunging underwater and opened the door. Looking around, her eyes settled as if drawn magnetically on the figure warming his hands in front of the fire, his back turned to her, dark hair falling down his neck, the profile of his pale face familiar as he turned his head...

"Snaveling..." Aman breathed softly. The man couldn't have heard, but he turned anyway, and a dry smile broke out on his noble features as he caught Aman's eye and nodded, moving towards her without a word. Aman broke out in a bashful grin that would have set every old gossip in Hobbiton gleefully muttering to each other, but this time with reason - maybe. Holding out her hands to Snaveling's, she grasped them tightly and smiled up at the Numenorean.

"Welcome back, Snaveling - come, I see by your face that we have plenty to discuss..."

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Fáinu looked darkly about the room. He knew not what he could do. He sat there deep in thought, weighing his options one by one. He took a drink from his mug and looked back at her.

"Much I would do," he began at last, "To help one in such plight. Deep wounds you bear, wounds of history. And I perceive, that some you know not the origins of. Indeed, I know those wounds, for I bear them myself."

He was silent again and went back into deep thought. At length an Old Dwarf came into the Inn, he was weary and coughed as he entered.

"Fáinu!" he spluttered, "I am going to Bree, I tell you so that you need not seek me."

"Very good, Dwaline." Said Fáinu, then, remembering his manners, "This is Aduthondiel, a friend of mine." The dwarf bowed and coughed, he took out a pipe and placed some weed in it.

"I'll be off then." Said Dwaline turning and puffing smoke, "Not like I'm wanted in Half-ling country."

"Dwaline, wait!" Cried Fáinu, "I must bid you do one thing."

"Name it, I shall do it." Said the Dwarf, "If it is in my power." He coughed and spluttered again.

"On the road," Fáinu began, "find what news you can of one named Hama. Send what news you gain to me, ether here or at Rivendell."

"Very well," Dwaline turned again and walked briskly out of the Inn. Hoof steps were heard slowly getting faster as the Dwarf rode away. Fáinu looked back at Adu and smiled.

"Perhaps this will ease your mind." he said, "He may be old, but Dwaline can get news better than most that I know." he then took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Adu. "Come, put worry aside for a time."

Just behind them a small fat Hobbit began a drunken song, which resulted in him falling from his chair and looking up at Fáinu.

"Who are you supposed to be?" he asked in a drunken slur, "Can I have a drink pal?"

The other Hobbits then picked him up and dragged him out. Fáinu smiled at Adu with a raised eyebrow suggesting amusement at the Hobbit's antics. She smiled back, weather she was amused, or fained it he could not tell.

[Witch_Queen]

It is nice to know that if the world was to end that hobbits would continue to drink and sing. There isn't much singing going on Middle Earth since the elves began leaving. Sad really when there is so much left for them to do. The wisdom of the elves is needed so much. Yet we cannot even tell. Adu couldn't help but smile at the drunk hobbit. It didn't matter how disgusting she thought they were, hobbits always made her laugh. "Its weird how no matter what a hobbit's spirit is something you can almost never take away. They always seems so happy even in depressing times. Fáinu, thank you for everything you have done so far. I don't know why I even should worry. Its not like there is a war going on." Adu sighed when she mentioned the word war. Not everything was going as well as she hoped.

In her mind she couldn't forget the words Aduthondiel the forgotten. To her everything would all soon be a memory. She would continue her immortal life and every time she should find happiness, it is always in men. She didn't know why she couldn't find an elf that stole her heart. Perhaps it was because of her father and the way he treated her. Adu didn't want to loose herself in thought so she needed to find something else to do. She looked down at her mug and noticed that it was empty.

Adu realized that she was like the mug. It was more of her life but still she felt empty inside. She decided that perhaps she would find some water or something besides ale. She remembered the last time she drank too much ale. That was the day Jack came back. "Fáinu, where do you plan on going when you decide to leave The Shire? Will you go back home or wander around searching for some sort of meaning." For some reason Adu was asking herself the exact same questions.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

He took her hands with an odd mixture of feelings, but the smile on his face betrayed none of his ambivalence. All Aman saw in that countenance was the joy of two friends meeting once again. He looked at her closely and noted that while she played at being the same woman he had come to know in the weeks after the fire, there had been changes in her since. Something had happened that had altered her perceptions of herself. Fitting he thought, that she should alter in her own regard, as I have. He wondered if the alteration had been a happy one.

None of this appeared in his face or manner as he answered Aman. “Indeed we do!” and he laughed in an easy manner. “First you must tell me how business has been for the Inn, and of my old friend Toby.”

At first the woman refused to answer and pressed Snaveling for more information of his travels, but the man remained steadfast in his desire to hear of the doings and happenings of the Shire. Bursting with impatience, the innkeeper allowed herself to be directed to a chair by the fire where she ran through, as quickly as she could, all that had happened at the Inn since he had gone away. About herself, however, she remained silent, a fact that did not pass Snaveling unnoticed. When she finished with the gossip she once more pressed him for information. “Where have you been?” she began. “Did you see the King, and how did he greet you? I can tell by looking at you that it must have gone well.” The unspoken question was clear: what did Elessar Telcontar do to you for your attempted murder of his kinswoman?

Snaveling’s voice was grave as he replied. “I do not know if it ‘went well’ for very little in this world does, but the result of our meeting was…satisfactory. Roa presented me to the King as I was. She related to him both my crimes and the claim that I made by virtue of my birthright. At first I was greatly afraid of him, for he was stern and mighty, and I was surrounded upon all sides by his people. Their attitude toward me was clear from the moment they heard what Roa had to say, and had it not been for the King I daresay I would not be here with you now. But he stilled them and descending from his throne took me in his arms and welcomed me as a brother, exclaiming that as the descendent of Ar-Pharazôn I was like him of the royal line of Numenór and therefore to be honoured as his kinsman.” He fell silent at the memory of that moment, for the surprise of it had never quite worn thin. “He then grew stern once more, however, and turning to the assembly he said, ‘I have welcomed this Man into my house and I accept his claim to the throne of Numenór as valid. Do not think, however, that by this I mean to relinquish the right by which I hold lordship of the Numenórean kingdom in Middle-Earth, for that was established of old as a separate domain by Elendil and his heirs. This Man holds the true title to the land that is lost beneath the waves. For that we must show him the honour that is his due.’ When I heard that,” Snaveling continued, chuckling lightly, “I nearly fell over with the terror of it all. Me a King?” and his laugh grew, “Me? A vagabond rogue from a lost corner of the world who had nothing to his name but the insults and disregard of all whom I’d met…it was preposterous. And yet, something in the way the King spoke of me made it real. I suddenly found myself in the midst of a people who regarded me as a great and powerful Man. Oh, they did not trust me, and I daresay there are many still who would be happy if I were to fall off my horse and break my neck, but so great is their love of their King that they were willing to accept his judgment in this.

“When the King spoke next it was to me, but he cast his voice so that all could hear. ‘But not for this alone were you brought before me,’ he said. ‘The crimes you have committed against my kinswoman Roa must be redressed.’ I trembled then, for I feared that he had recognized my claim only as a cruel prelude to my destruction. But the King is both wise and merciful – how greatly do I lament the words that I have spoken against him in the past, ignorant as they were. Rather than ordering my instant death he proposed an exchange of sorts. In return for remitting my sentence, I was to lay down all claims that I had to the throne of Gondor. I am sure that he did not fear any rebellion that I might pose, but I could tell that he wanted the matter of my lineage and of my claim settled finally, so that none would doubt where I stood. I do not want to be King, so I happily agreed to the terms and forsook my claim as loudly and as elegantly as I could.”

Aman could no longer contain her amazement. “So you are free, then!” she said. “The King has forgiven you!”

“Yes, he has forgiven me, and more. I told him of my people and of the difficult lives we lead upon the edges of his realm. He took pity on us and granted us in perpetuity the right to pursue our game, and live our own lives on the lands that are our own. That very day he dispatched ambassadors to my people with messages of good will and allegiance. At first, they were distrustful and wary, but when the sent envoys to the King I was able to meet with them and convince them of the King’s sincerity. There is still no great love between my people and the Gondorians – and with the Rohirrim, I am afraid, there remains great enmity – but my people now have a recognized land of their own, where they are free to live free from interference.”

“So all your dreams have come true,” Aman said. “Why then are you here? Why have you come back?” There was a note in her voice that caught Snaveling’s attention, and at it his heart failed somewhat.

He became reluctant and quiet, seeking comfort in the fire as he searched his mind for a response. Aman pressed him again. Not meeting her eyes, Snaveling said to the flames, “I have come in search of Roa. The King sent her back to the North soon after our arrival in Minas Tirith, and there has been no word from her in months. My heart fears what might have happened to her. I cannot return to my people until I have found her…”

[Nurumaiel]

The company walked in relative silence, and at Blanco started up a lively, pointless, chattering conversation, a conversation restricted entirely to himself. Lily and Posco listened, and Hal began to walk faster. Peony lengthened her stride almost to a run to keep up with him, and when they reached the corner of the Inn he began to run, and with a little gasp of surprise she followed him. When he came to the kitchen door he went in. Peony tried to smooth her somewhat ruffled skirts and said, 'Whatever are you doing, Hal?'

He looked desperately at her, the look of a little boy who knows he's done something wrong but saw no way to avoid it. He put a finger to his lips, and after a few moments they heard the loud voice of Blanco. 'Why, wherever have they gone? I'm sure they went this way! Why, what could have happened here? How could they have vanished?'

'Perhaps they went into the kitchen?' It was Posco's voice that suggested this.

'Impossible,' said Blanco, briskly dismissing the idea. 'Everybody knows that nobody is allowed to go into the kitchen except the Inn staff. Those who do - ' and his voice took on expression of mystery and dread ' - will regret it all their lives. So!' His voice returned to its usual jolly tone. 'Perhaps they went around the other corner. Let's go see!' Footsteps and voices alike slowly faded away, and Peony turned once again to Hal, her eyes demanding explanation.

'I'm sorry,' said he. 'I'm more than delighted to see your brothers, and to meet Miss Lily, but I was talking with you and I really must finish.'

'What more can be said? I tell you, Hal, I will not marry you until my father gives his consent. I've told you this nearly every day since you first asked me for my hand. I have not changed. True, I love you, but without my father's consent I will not and could not marry you. Please don't worry about it any further.'

'I can't help it,' said Hal miserably, and he opened the kitchen door. They stepped out into the sunshine again, but they went in the opposite direction that the others had gone. Peony walked in sorrowful silence at Hal's side, pitying him, as well as herself, with all her heart. He had not yet spoken in the beautiful manner he often did, but when he did he would be considered drunk by those more sensible and wiser hobbits. Oh, it was bitter that a hobbit could not appreciate beauty, and speak of the sunsets and rises, and of the water rippling in the pond, without everyone thinking he had taken too much to drink. What a foolish place the world was, that something so trivial as this would keep them apart!

But it did not matter much. She trusted that if it were meant for her to be his wife, some change would come across her father. She only hoped that no change would come upon Hal. She would never wish him to cease in those beautiful speeches he would make.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Fáinu, where do you plan on going when you decide to leave The Shire? Will you go back home or wander around searching for some sort of meaning." For some reason Adu was asking herself the exact same questions.

Fáinu looked up at Adu, "I will perhaps return to Rivendel. Although, I have little to do there, save perhaps ride abroad with Ellodan's company. but I have not done that for many a long year."

Memories began to come back to him. The house of his brothers, welcoming him, the rejecting him. If only they knew me, then, perhaps, I would not feel so unwanted. Maybe, now I know their true faces.

"However," he continued at last, "If you so wish, I could stay here, at least until word comes of Hama. Perhaps then we can keep each other company." If anything, the latter was what he wished for, and had wished for since he was left alone in Dale. Few companions he had had, and walking for long seems hard on the feet, if you are alone.

He thought of times passed when he was at peace, seeing his future, wishing revenge on Smaug, then, he waited too long, and he was left cold and bitter. Not since that day in Dale had he been truly happy, until now. Adu was the only Elf, (Save Elrond) who had listened with compassion to his story and seemed to understand the trauma he went through. This made him feel much more at ease, he felt as if a large weight of regret had been lifted and he smiled.

"How dose one see the future?" he said, almost to himself, but he knew that Adu heard him, "before he left, Elrond said something to me, 'Fáinu, Smaug may be dead, and not by your hand, be not sour. When you can see the future, you will know that it happened for the greater good.', Still I cannot see what he meant. Perhaps, he means that when all has happened, I shall look back on it in retrospect. Who knows."

He knew he was being hypocritical here, he told her not to worry about such things, and here he was rambling on about it. He shook his head and looked back at Adu.

"Ah, don't listen to me," he said, "I go on about my problems, because I have a constant reminder." He refrained his glace from his right hand and instead looked Adu in the eyes and smiled.

Fáinu glanced out side when he thought he head hoof steps, but it was his imagination. He considered getting another drink, but did not; he felt that he should stay with Adu so that she did not feel that he was avoiding her, which he was not.

[Amanaduial the archer]

The words mocked Aman and she felt as if a hand had reached into her chest and squeezed roughly at her heart. From the way Snaveling avoided her eyes, she guessed he knew what the effect would have been, although his face was impassive as he stared into the fire. Aman felt her throat stifled, but forced herself to speak, her voice as calm as his face was expressionless.

"Roa..." She felt a choke coming and stopped herself, clearing her throat and looking away, before standing, straightening herself fastidiously as she tried again. "Roa? Strange, that she did not linger longer in Gondor longer. But Elessar," she continued quickly before Snaveling could comment. "Elessar has been on the throne for thirteen years, he knows what he is doing - did he not welcome you back?"

Still chattering to push away the lump in her throat, Aman began to move away, her hands fiddling with anything, everything: stroking at her dress, flattening down her hair, running her long fingers over the surface of the wooden tables. Turning brightly to Snaveling, she smiled a wide, fake smile. "You will be wanting some food, of course, you must be tired after that ride." It was statement more than a question and Aman immediately turned away towards the kitchen, her face beginning to crumple a little, the cracks appearing in her mask.

"Aman." The word, and the hand on her arm, stopped Aman, but she didn't turn immediately. Rebuking herself inwardly for letting her charade slip, the Innkeeper turned to the man, her face expectant. Snaveling's eyes darted questioningly over her face, but they were all that showed any concern or...any emotion.

He feels nothing...

"And you, Aman, how are you?"

The woman laughed merrily, although maybe it was a tad shrill. "Me, Snaveling?" she chattered. Why, I told you all about what we have been doing, while you teased me by withholding-"

Her merry dialogue was cut off as Snaveling interrupted, his voice still low. "That is not what I asked, Aman. How are you - not Aman the Innkeeper, you: Aman. You did not tell me about her."

He feels nothing...

A faint swell of bitterness rose up, buoying the lump in Aman's throat and swaying her judgement. She smiled again, overly brightly once more, but her eyes showed something else as they met with Snaveling's. Her voice was mocking and jovial, or so it seemed - there was something else underneath, undertones in voice also to be found in it's words. She looked straight at Snaveling as she spoke. "Ah, but master Snaveling - it is only Aman the Innkeeper who you came for."

With that she turned, dignified and holding herself well, forcing herself with every inch of self restraint not to run or move faster at all. But as she did so, she stumbled on a chair leg and her face cracked slightly. Disregarding it, she ignored the pain welling up in her leg and forced herself into the kitchen, where Cook sat, and stumbled to the sink, head hanging over it as she squeezed her eyes impossibly tight in a subdued, silent grimace of pain, pain from inside - the worst kind. Behind her, she heard a chair scrape and realised that Cook was still hear, and for the first time since she had come to the Inn felt spiteful thoughts against the old hobbit woman: Is there nowhere in this blessed place where I can escape the interfering halflings?! Habit quickly knocked this away, shocked, but there was a part of her that didn't give a damn about habit though: a new part, a part which had been awakened with new vigour, and energy, and hope for it's life - a part which had been struck and sent sprawling in the mud of rejection when Snaveling had said his true purpose.

I am a pretty, bright domestic bird: caged, ornamental, she sings her bright, ridiculous song, over and over and over, while she listens to the word of the master who feeds her titbits while she falls in love with his caress.

And begins to hate his sweetheart.

Aman felt her hands tighten, spreading themselves out so hard that they shook. "I...I am fine thank you, Vinca. Just a...a pain." Out of the sight of Cook, Aman's mouth twisted wryly at the truth of the statement that the hobbit wouldn't realise. "Could you do me a favour please? There is a woman outside who wanted a room for the night..."

"Of course, of course, dear, take your time." The chair creaked and the sound of the old hobbit bustling across the stone floor was heard. She patted Aman considerately on the lower back, but that was all: she had been around young people and Big Folk enough to know that there are times when their mysterious ways simply convey a need to be alone. The old gentlehobbit had never understood it herself but, ee, there was nowt as strange as folk, as her old gaffer had used to say. As Aman listened to Cook wandering off purposefully into the Common Room, her fists began to clench: as the door shut, her hands slammed down against the rims of the sink on either side of the basin, her face tight as she struck back the tears. The pain was a distraction, but not enough to mean anything. Her eyes strayed to the knife and her face hardened...

And so the litte bird begins to hate his sweetheart...

...but she stopped herself immediately, lifting a hand to smack herself suddenly across the face. No. Not that far. Never that far.

He was a man, just a man; had she not seen hundreds, of every race, pass through this Inn? They came, they went, as everyone did; no matter who came, they always inevitably left.

"Everyone leaves me..." Aman whispered softly, sadly, melancholy seeping through the anger. Her green eyes sparkled and as she closed them a tear peered out before launching itself down her reddened cheek. Flinging her head back, she inhaled sharply, blinking away the tears: this would not do, this would never do.

"Stop being stupid, you silly girl," she snapped to herself quietly. Crossing briskly to where the plates of supper were laid out, she selected one with great subconcious care and, as an afterthought, poured a generous cup of black tea with it. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the Common Room door open with her foot and pasted the smile back on.

"Supper is served, ladies and gentlemen," she announced clearly. The ringleader. Trapped in her own circus.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger’s tray was empty of food. She stood at a distance from the table Cook had set her to serve and nodded her head in a satisfied manner. The Hobbits who had been working on the cottage were tucking into their heaping plates of food with the great gusto of men who have worked hard all day. Only a few short phrases passed between them, the words slurred slightly round mouthfuls of food. ‘Taters, please!’ And ‘Jam, here, mate!’ Those asking for thirds already, she could see easing undone the top button of their waistbands.

Ferdy’s eyes were on his plate as she glanced toward him. A smile came unbidden to her lips as she recalled him standing up to help her unload the platters of food from the serving tray. She’d thanked him politely and he’d mumbled some response. The eyes of the other lads slid from him to her in a knowing way, and the two nearest him had nudged him none too discretely as he sat back down. She’d almost giggled, but her glance had caught the considering look that Andwise was giving her. She gasped a bit, then red faced at his perusal of her, turned and made her way back toward the kitchen.

Cook was just coming out to the Common Room and Ginger raised her empty tray to her and nodded at the kitchen door. She only pushed the door open a slight bit when she heard someone’s soft, sad voice whisper a few words.

‘Everyone leaves me . . .’ It was the Innkeeper, her cheeks ruddy, a single tear hanging precipitously from her jaw. Ginger backed out and closed the door softly, but not before she heard Aman say aloud, ‘Stop being stupid, you silly girl . . .’ Uncertain what to do, Ginger backed away further and found herself at the bar. She put her serving tray atop it, and looked about, perplexed.

Aman came sailing through the door, then, and into the Common Room. Plate of food in one hand, mug of tea in the other. And a smile pasted on her face which did not reach out to enliven the rest of her features.

Ginger spied Cook, just handing over the care of a lodger wanting to be shown her room to one of the servers. Sidling up near to where Cook stood, Ginger waited for her to finish with the lodger and turn her attention to her.

Cook turned her broad face to the girl with a questioning look. ‘Well . . . problems?’

‘Oh not with me, Miz Bunce,’ Ginger said shaking her head. ‘But I think there’s something wrong going on with Miz Aman.’ She nodded her head toward where the Innkeeper sat, pushing her food about on her plate with her fork. The scene she had witnessed just moments before came spilling out.

‘Is there something we should do?’

[Firefoot]

Lily was thankful that Blanco was leading the way, because that way he could not see the small, amused smile she wore. She was almost positive that Hal and Peony had not simply turned a different way from them, but had slipped off by themselves. Hal had just arrived, after all: they probably wanted some time alone, and they had been interrupted previously. Yet Blanco did not seem to understand that, so she - and Posco, she supposed, at least a little bit - humored him, following him around the corner of the Inn.

“Not here either,” said Blanco, a stumped expression on his face. “That’s odd. They couldn’t have gone that far.”

“No, they couldn’t have,” replied Lily absently. Slipping off... that’s not such a bad idea, except it would leave Blanco by himself. Maybe later. “Maybe they went back inside.”

“I don’t think so,” said Blanco. He was clearly thinking hard. “Do you think they might have gotten down to the stables? Why don’t we go see.” Lily shook her head slightly, but followed along anyway, if for no other reason than because the fresh air felt good after an afternoon inside. As they walked, Blanco picked up where he had left off in his previous monologue. Lily kept an interested look on her face, though in truth she drifted off, still wondering how she might get some time alone with Posco later that evening. She wasn’t sure how much time she had left before he was leaving for home, so she wanted to do it soon. The trouble was how...

“Here we are!” announced Blanco. Posco said, “We can split up-” Lily’s heart soared for a moment. But Blanco interrupted him, and what he said made it fall again. “Yes, yes, we can look faster that way. Posco, you can check around the outside and Lily and I will look inside.”

[Nurumaiel]

Posco gave Lily a rather despairing look and then, with a shrug, moved away. Blanco opened the door to the stable and went in, and after a brief hesitation Lily followed him. The door closed behind them, and Blanco began softly calling for Peony and Hal. Lily did likewise. They searched here and there, and at last Blanco stopped and said, 'Ah, what a silly little fool I am. They can't be here.' He looked towards Lily, but she did not question him, so with a bit of a pout he answered the question he was hoping she would ask. 'They can't be here because they would have either had to encircle the entire building, which we know they didn't do, unless they were running very fast, or they would have had to go back along the way they came, and they would have passed us by.'

'Then shall we go out?' said Lily, her voice light, but a note of anxiousness in her voice. Blanco looked keenly at her, and he sighed. He was more than certain that she wanted to go back to Posco. She was going towards the door, but he called to her to stop, and he went to her, and he looked despairingly at her. 'Miss Lily,' he said after a brief pause, 'would you tell me exactly how you feel about my brother?'

Hal and Peony had made their way back to the Common Room, where Hal had led her to a table in a dark corner of the Inn. 'Oh, come now,' said Peony, laughing, 'we can't hide back here. And why? You have already spoken to me.'

'I'm not done speaking to you yet,' said Hal rather grimly.

Peony sighed. 'How many times must I tell you?' she said. 'I cannot until my father gives permission.' Hal shot her a look of defiant desperation, and seated himself. 'Besides,' Peony went on, 'we cannot hide back here. Blanco would spot us, surely, and Bingo and Marcho have already seen us.'

'Perhaps we would have a little more time alone,' said Hal. 'Peony, when is the last time I have seen you alone?'

'When was the last time it was necessary?' she asked. 'There is nothing you can say to me but what you would say in the presence of others. Anything else you might say I have already answered.' He looked into her eyes for a few moments, and then he dropped his head and sighed sorrowfully. She reached out and touched his arm, smiling. 'Courage, Hal!' she said. 'I said wait; I did not say no. I hope still. Cannot you hope as well?'

Hal gave a nod that was barely perceptible, and he said nothing.

[piosenniel]

‘Best we leave her to her own thoughts and habits for now,’ said Cook, speaking low as she drew Ginger aside. ‘The Big Folk have their own way of facing down problems. Somewhat like those snapping turtles down at The Pool, or so I’ve come to think. They draw in their heads and legs all tight beneath their hard shells. And my, oh my, but they are snappish indeed if you try to prod them.’

Ginger furrowed her brow and looked over toward the Innkeeper. ‘My sister and I once tried to pry out one of those turtle’s heads when we were little. Lilly, she poked and prodded, and thumped on the old fellow’s shell.’ Ginger shook her curls at the memory. ‘Nearly bit her fingertip off, that old snapper did.’

‘Exactly!’ agreed Cook, nodding at the conjured image. ‘She’ll either come round,’ she went on, jutting her chin at Aman, ‘or she won’t. That’s just the way with them.’

Cook looked over toward the table where Derufin, Andwise, and the lads all sat. ‘Looks to me as if dessert should be offered round . . . don’t you think?’ she reached up to tuck a stray red curl behind the girl’s ear. ‘There! Now you look just fine,’ she went on, straightening Ginger’s apron a bit. Ginger picked up her tray and scurried off to the kitchen, giving the table where Aman sat a wide berth.

[starkat]

Gwenneth placed her tools down with a sigh. She had given Elenath a full going over and was a little tired. Bidding her horse good night, the elf headed back towards the Inn.

She had seen the Innkeeper come in from a distance, but had not spoken to her. Gwenneth thought that she might search out the innkeeper and ask her about a couple of the horses in the barn. Aman was nowhere to be seen at first. Just as Gwenneth took a seat at a table, Aman came out and began serving dinner.

The young elf maid noticed that Aman seemed preoccupied and decided not to say anything. Instead she looked around the room at the others. She recognized several patrons that she had seen before.

A plate of food and a glass of tea were set before her and Gwenneth smiled at the server. She realized that she was very hungry and began to eat.

[Witch_Queen]

Adu sat there staring at the floor. She didn't know what else to say. She figured that Count would be awake now. "Fáinu, do you perhaps have a horse? Mine is in the stables and it would be nice to go out for a ride. Count could use the exercise and I could really use the fresh air." Standing she motioned Fáinu to follow her. The stables wasn't but a short walk and it would do her some good to get away from such merriment. He understands me more than I do. Perhaps we aren't that different. Maybe, just maybe he won't leave me for a while. Lets just hope Hama does come back to me. I just don't want my father to be right. I will amount to something in my time in Middle Earth.

Going through her mind Adu could hear the words from her father. "Aduthondiel you will always be alone. It doesn't matter what you do. It doesn't even matter anymore. You have already began the road that will lead to your own downfall. You are like your mother. Unfortunately you are strong like me. Your stubborness is something you should be happy with. 'Cause not all things are given to you by your parents. You know what I mean, if you mother was still here with you then you would be as spoiled as all the other females." "Being raised by my father was the worst part of it all. He molded me into the elf I am today. Yet even now I know that all he wanted was for me not to be like my mother. Now look at me. Look at what I have become." Adu realized that she wasn't talking to herself anymore. Her words were almost directed to Fáinu.

Realizing what she was doing Adu quickly stopped her mumbling and even stopped walking. She turned towards Fáinu, "I'm sorry, my father was a bad man, though everyone else said different I knew him better than everyone else. My mother died when I was young. She was killed by one of the spiders Bilbo woke up. Sadly for me I was raised by him and even now I am glad he has left these lands. Fáinu, it is wierd we are from two different areas yet our history and our pain links us together." She knew that her words were not as she had meant them. The way they sounded only confused Adu. Deep down inside there was one word Adu didnt' want to say. Yet before she could shut her mouth it came out. "Fáinu, perhaps this is fate."

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Yet before she could shut her mouth it came out. "Fáinu, perhaps this is fate."

At this Fáinu's smile faded. Fate was a word that had haunted him for a long time. He looked about the stable for his horse; it was standing in the far corner and eating some hey. He led the horse out of its standing place and stopped it just in front of Adu. He was using this as time to think of how to react to what Adu had said.

"You speak of fate as if you understand It." he began, "I thought I did, but it is now hidden from me. For now, my fate is shrouded in cloud and dust." He placed his left hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "Do not tempt fate, it has a nasty habit of hewing off hope like a limb." he smiled at her trying not to put her into despair,

"I cannot see the future in myself, however, in thee, I perceive that your future is long and arduous, yet I do not think you shall be alone for ever. That is not your fate, as I can see it." He hoped that this would cheerer her up, and he smiled as he lead his horse out of the stables and awaited Adu to follow.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling watched in dismay as Aman retreated into herself. He knew well what it was like to live behind a mask, and could see the contours of the one that she was trying to wear, as well as the shape of her true feelings beneath it. He knew the ache of an unrequited affection, and was not unaware of the bitter irony of their situation. Her words came back to him: it is only Aman the Innkeeper who you came for. The truth of those words stung him deeply with shame and regret. He should not have returned to disturb the Innkeeper in her life, but the purpose of his quest gripped him so that he could not do other than come here. Here is where he had met Roa, here is where he had the best chance of finding her again.

Despite his wish to respect Aman’s privacy he was anxious for news of the Ranger, and it was only with the greatest effort of will that he was able to prevent himself from joining Aman at her meal and asking for more news. He did not wish to cause her any more grief, but he could tell that for the time being there was not way he could speak with her without making the situation worse. He cast about for another option, and his eyes landed upon one of the hobbit lasses working as a serving maid as she emerged from the kitchen, her tray laden with food. She was new to him but she seemed to know what she was about. It occurred to Snaveling that if Roa had come through the Inn recently, this hobbit lass would be sure to know about it. The fact that she was new also appealed to him, for perhaps she was not yet aware of his history at the Inn…

The room was growing warm so he removed his cloak and cast it upon an empty chair at a small table. Seating himself, he called out politely for the lass. She looked at him pertly and came to the table. “Would you like some supper, Sir?” she asked. A lifetime spent as a vagabond is hard to shake loose, and Snaveling was immediately wary of her tone, for in it he sensed some slight reluctance toward him. Was the lass aware that he was the cause of Aman’s distress?

He smiled at her. “As a matter of fact, yes, I would like some supper. But might I trouble you with a question first?” As he spoke he nudged a chair toward her with his foot by way of invitation. The lass did not sit down, but looked at him, her eyes slowly growing more serious.

“What would you like to know, sir?” was all she said.

“Well, for the first, your name if you don’t mind giving it to me. I am Snaveling.”

The lass’s eyes betrayed nothing at the mention of his name. She replied simply, “I’m called Ginger”

“Thank you, Ginger. I am looking for a friend of mine,” he began as carefully as he could. “A woman named Roa. She is a Ranger, quite young with red hair and green eyes,” his heart caught at the memory, “she was once a regular at the Inn, and may have been through here some months ago. Have you seen her?”

[piosenniel]

GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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

Derufin, the Stablemaster (played by Envinyatar)

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

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Please Note:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

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

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

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