The Green Dragon Inn - Part 10

[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.

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

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

Fredgar Hornblower – local Shiriff from Hobbiton – played by Fool of a Took
_____________________________________________

Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn.

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.

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


IT IS NOW LATE AFTERNOON. THE WEATHER IS PLEASANT.

THE INN IS ALL BACK TOGETHER AFTER THE FIRE.

A PARTY HAS JUST BEGUN - PLENTY OF FOOD, DRINK, MUSIC, DANCING!

[Esgallhugwen]

Aldor looked down at the Dwarf with clear blue eyes "Ah, pleased to meet you at last Master Deva, Lady Peony had said you might be sleeping because you had had a long journey", Aldor shook his hand and invited him to take a seat at the closest table.

He called Buttercup up to the table and ordered a round of ale for his newly found friends. "Forgive my cursiosity, but tell me what brings you here so far away from your own home? Are you just a wanderer like myself?". Aldor awaited the answer eagerly hoping for a story. Deva looked about as if recollecting his thoughts, glancing here and there at all the merry making going on and all the jovial faces bouncing up and down as they danced and sang.

"Well Master Aldor, first tell me a bit about yourself, then we'll see what I can come up with" his beard curled into a smile as he drank from his mug.

"There really isn't much to tell that would make a good story I'm afraid, but I'll tell you anyhow, I'm from Rohan, and though I love the land dearly I can't help but find myself wandering hither and thither across the land, not really in search of adventure or anything like that, just to feed my curiosity about the world. My Mother told me someday that it would get me into trouble, but thankfully it hasn't happened yet". He smiled and took a refreshing gulp of the frothy ale.

[Kitanna]

Deva nodded knowingly. "I too am just wandering to wander. I just enjoy travelling the lands, seeing what I can see."

He smiled and looked over to Peony, "You usually can find some good friends on the road." He paused a moment trying to recall. "I've been travelling for about twenty years on and off. I return home for some amount of time before heading out once again."

"When was it that Miss Peony joined you?" Aldor asked.

Deva took another sip from his mug before answering. "Nearly a year we have been wandering these lands. And yourself Master Aldor, how long have you been travelling?"

It was a clear sunny afternoon when the tall hobbit Hamstus Teabottle first saw the Green dragon.
"so this is the famous pub" Thought Hamstus .
Hamstus was travelling from the village of Bree, where he lived, to Bywater, where he hoped to get work as a shiriff. He of course was trained for this type of work, infact he was probaly over qualified, for he was a ranger. It was not often that a hobbit trained in the ways of a ranger, it was practically unheard of. But Hamstus was not like the average hobbit. He had a great knowlegde of wild creatures and plants and was good with a sword and bow, But the one thing hamstus did not have was respect and acceptance from his peers, the other rangers. For every good skil he possessed, therewas always a undesirable one, for instance, he could not go long with out food and always wanted to cook things like a gourmet, and this was not a good thing when alone in the woods, being full of theives and wild beasts.
These are the reasons for the move to the shire. Here he could walk in the woods all day and cook delicious foods, well maintaining the simple laws of this beutiful land.

As Hamstus walked across the bridge leading into Bywater, he thought why he Had not ever visited the inner parts of the shire. He had been to Buckland many times, once even travelling into the old forest out of curiousity. When he hd come to buckland it was mainly just to visit his cousin, Namef Brandybuck.
Namef was the one who suggested becoming a shiriff. At first hamstus did not know what he meant by shiriff, but as he soon found out a shiriff was a type of ranger, a hobbit who traveled around his region of the shire keeping the peace.

As Hamstus walked across town to the little pub, he noticed that many of the hobbits had brown hair and dark skin. Hamstus was a odd hobbit, not that he was ugly, but had very elf like features, like blond hair and pale skin.

Hamstus entered the pub. His first impression was that this pub must be very crowded on popular days, for in the afternoon it was already brisking with activity.
Hamstus approached the closet person and asked " do you know you employs the shiriffs?"

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Willow took her water in one hand, and held her fiddle in the other, tightly. She grew very embarrassed as Aman commented that she had heard her playing in the halls.

Aman noticed her seeming displeasure, and continued, "I stepped into the corridor for a moment, that's why I had the pleasure. But listen, that is no ordinary instrument, and you are a fine player. Will you not grace the party with a few tunes later on, Miss...?"

She gazed at Aman, and filled in the blank. "I am Willow Overhill," she answered after a moments pause, for she had noticed that the Innkeeper did not appear to know her name. "I am from the North Moors," she added. "No ordanary fiddle..." Willow perked up, as she sipped at her water. "No, it was passed down from my mother, and her mother before her. It is old, and I am proud to own it. Thank you again for catching it."

She gazed at the violin softly. "You heard me playing, out there. I get nervous when anyone might hear me, but I would be happy to play, if you wish it."

The younger hobbit smiled, and looked up at the Innkeeper, who was so much taller than her. "Yes, I will try to play," she said again. "And thank you for the water, Aman. And who was the dark man you were talking to?" she asked.

She reached up to hold her violin closer, it was precious to her, though some people might not understand the attatchment, beyond the fact that it was old, and had a fine tune; it was also all she had left of her mother, and seemingly now too, her brother, Ando. But that was not the case at the moment. She stroked the fiddle. "The dark man... he looked familiar," she said softly.

Willow looked up again, at the perplexed Innkeeper. "Thank you again for the water," she said. "And I will try to play, if you wish it, Aman."

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling glared at the hobbit lass with the fiddle who had interrupted his conversation with Aman. But his rage at the Innkeeper was not any less: he had seen the look she gave him before covering it over with a lighter tone and brighter eye. I do not like you either, Mistress Rohan he sneered inwardly, and if you are too poor an Innkeeper to serve the thirsty, they will have to take care to do so themselves!. As soon as Aman was gone from sight he slunk into the back hall and headed for the cellar door. He waited by it, apparently lingering about the kitchen, for the hallway to be clear. It had been months since he had last tasted ale, but he could remember the effects of drinking too much of it too quickly – and on an empty stomach. He had been so distracted with his worries this day to take much thought for food, and had instead poured his energy into working in the garden. To then cap that off with a pint of ale taken in a few breaths. . . his head (or was it the room?) was beginning to tilt slightly to one side.

There came a break in the stream of people coming through the hall, and like a ferret he was through the cellar door and closing it behind him. He took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the low light and remembered the last time he had been in the cellar of the Green Dragon Inn. It was one of the few rooms of the original Inn that had survived the blaze, but most of its contents were newly bought. He wandered through the aisles of casks and barrels looking for something appropriate to his mood. As he came to the spot where he had trapped Roa he paused and stared at the barrels that stood there. His heart was racing and his mind froze, but he forced himself to move on, shaking his head against the feelings that had threatened to overcome him.

At last! He found what he was looking for. On a high shelf near the back, dusty from years’ internment in the cellar, was a bottle of what appeared to be brandy. Taking it down he pulled the wax seal off with his teeth and then drew out the cork stopper. The vapour of the liquor entered his nose like an invitation, so without waiting for a second he swallowed a mouthful that burned his throat on the way down and started a warm fire in his belly. Smiling with self-satisfaction, he returned to the cellar stairs, carefully tucking the bottle beneath his tunic. As he was about to head up the stairs his eye fell on a stack of wine bottles left on a small table, apparently for someone to bring up for the party. The memory of Roa’s look as he sang came to him then, and for the first time he recognised in it an echo of the dislike and distrust that had been so apparent in Aman’s eye. In that moment he wanted to do something harmful to them both – but unable to strike at them, he decided on the next best thing. Without pausing to think about it for even a moment, he tilted the small table and sent the bottles of wine crashing to the floor.

He rushed up the stairs and opened the door only a crack to see if anyone had heard, but the sounds of the party had apparently drowned out the destruction of the wine. He waited for the hallway to be clear once more and then slipped out. He moved into the Common Room and sought out Toby. The old hobbit and he would have a good time tonight now that they were properly provisioned.

[Will Witfoot]

Fungrim lolled at the smal table next to the hearth. With his clean-scrubbed features, washed clothes and commed hair and freshly plaited beard he made a very different impression from the down-at-heel wanderer who had first shown up at the inn all those weeks ago.
He tilted back his head, letting the foamy ale run down his throat before turning to the fireplace. He surveyed his, and Indy's, handiwork with a quiet joy, taking in all the carvings and little pictures he had made as an extra gift to the inn. Truly it was something to be proud of.

He took a bite of the kidney pie one of the patrons had made, and glanced around trying to locate the child. She had gone with one of the hobbit women, though not by her own consent. Judging by the noice she had made anyone would think that she had been dragged away for execution, rather than for a bath and a change of clothes.

He chuckled slightly at the image of the girl trashing as the little ladies had guided her upstairs. She was a tomboy to the core, treating washing and order like they were some deadly diseases.
Well, it could'nt be helped. It was the party, after all, and it would not do to flitter around in dirty clothes.

He just hoped that she did'nt drown the hobbit's. It would be quite a blow for the innkeeper.

[Witch_Queen]

Aduthondiel
She was relieved to finally see that Hama was ok. Though she could tell that the news had shocked him she wasn't suprised. She turned to Crystal and thought about whether or not she should leave the Shire. "Perhaps I will stay a bit longer. I'm sure if I send Count back with a letter requiring Dorians position I might just get it. That is if no one else has found the right to claim it."

Adu felt that a bit of pressure had been lifted off of her shoulders. Dorian was dead and everything was better. She had finally found friends that she could talk to about anything. Crystal seemed like a daughter to her now. It was her duty to protect her and see that no harm came to her. "That is unless our dear Hama wishes to have the title of being General."

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal smiled.

"Hama would make a great general. So would you Adu. Either of you would be a fine replacement," Crystal said as she smiled.

When she had come back into the Inn she had no idea that this would happen. She hadn't allowed herself to believe that she would be alright in the end. She hadn't allowed herself to think that this could turn out any differently then she had figured it would. She had always figured that he would eventually catch her, beat her, and destroy everything she had worked so hard to no longer have. Mainly memories of him and her past. Now she was able to be herself, beyond his heinous ways. She could be the person she had borned to be. It was a reassuring fact.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman opened her mouth to reply, when a resounding crash of breaking glass made her half duck, memories of windows smashed with lungs of fire making her eyes wide and scared. Running back into the main part of the Common Room, she looked around to see several other party goers as shocked as herself, at least two of them Gondorian, and a look of understanding passed between Aman and Crystal. But in those first moments, Aman realised two things. First, that the crash must have been from the cellar, for at that volume it must have been on the ground floor and there was no sign in the Common Room.

Secondly, that Snaveling was no longer at the bar.

Darting quickly to the cellar steps, Aman lifted her skirts slightly and descended hastily. A few metres from the bottom steps there lay a small, upturned table...and the fragmented, broken remains of half a dozen fine bottles of red wine, brought by Master Merry and ready to be served later. Aman stepped carefully over the crimson fingers of wine that reached from the shattered pile, her knuckles white as they gripped her skirt. She knew, of course, who had done it: Snaveling.

Spiteful drow of a man! she thought furiously, her jaw tightening as several choice curses flew into her head. Spiteful, darksome, acrimonious, immoral, nefarious little...

"Mistress Innkeeper, what on earth has happened?" A shocked hobbit boy's voice disturbed the Innkeeper midflow.

The furious Rohirrim woman looked up slowly at him, years of warrior breeding burning in her green eyes as her nails dug into her palms, although she barely noticed, and none but the closest of the spectators gathered at the door could see the effect of her anger in the gloom. And very slowly, she smiled, a chilly, careful smile. When she spoke, her voice was perfectly pleasant, even and calm.

"Please could I ask you all to look out for a certain individual on the premises - a man, of dark countenance, secretive looking maybe. Possibly he may be in the company of a hobbit, Tobias Hornblower, although Tobias and myself have no quarrel. The man's name is...Snaveling." The last word was disdainful: if Snaveling wished to be treated so, he would get what he wished for.

"Why is it that you need to find him, Aman?" an old hobbit woman asked, inquisitive and thirsty for gossip. Aman looked at her, bright-eyed. So Snaveling had chosen to quarrel with the Innkeeper of the Green Dragon Inn...at her feet, the wine lapped just below her skirt.

"I think myself and master Snaveling need to talk," she replied.

[Mad Baggins]

Toby sagged in the chair and slumped forward, nearly landing on the floor. He took a deep breath and sat up again, asking, “So…how’s life in Hobbiton nowadays? I have many a relative around these parts and I would certainly like to know of any interesting recent happenstances.” He leaned against the back of his chair again and stared dreamily into the crowd.

Mira chuckled and replied, "Well, it's the same old Hobbiton. Many birthdays have passed; and births, and deaths. But other than those few minor details...it's been the same quiet Hobbiton."

As if to counteract what she had just said, there was a crash of breaking glass. Toby jumped and looked about blearily, while Mira whirled in her seat and searched the crowd for the source of the noise. Aman suddenly appeared, looking angrier than a pestered bee. She stormed past, heading for the cellar. Mira began to turn back to Toby, saying, "Well, I guess I was wrong..." When she was facing him again, she saw that his head was bowed on his chest and he was breathing deeply.

Mira slowly leaned forward and touched the elder hobbit's shoulder. "Toby...are you awake...?"

He started and jerked his head up, saying loudly, "What? I'm not asleep. How could I fall asleep on such a fine evening?"

Mira laughed and said, "You didn't fall asleep, good sir. You were simply...resting your eyes."

[Galadel Vinorel]

The loud crash of wine bottles echoed in the elf's sharp ears. Few merrygoers heard the noise, yet a few seconds later Galadel saw Aman quickly rush into the main room. Oh no, Snaveling, Galadel thought to herself, You cannot allow your anger to overcome you in such a hideous way. As the elf sat watching the scene unfold she saw Aman quickly dissapear down the hall to the cellar. A few seconds later Snaveling appeared in the main room once more by a different way, his coat looking rather bulgy around the stomach at the moment. The man of the south then began to make his way towards were Tobias sat talking with a hobbit lass.

Expressing her apologies to Roa, Galadel quickly stood up from her table and made her way silently to Snaveling. As she drew in front of him, the man suddenly stopped and looked into her eyes, which were now brimming with red, as anger boiled in her heart. Yet the man was too drunk to realize that that look was very dangerous, and he tried to push past her, yet she moved in his way.

"Move oout of my way, elf. You have no right to hinder me," Snaveling said angrily, his speech slightly slurred.

"No, Snaveling. I will not let you make this mistake. It will cause you more harm than you could ever imagine," Galadel said forcefully, desperately trying to control her anger, "I want you to return the bottle of liquor to Miss Aman and apologize to her for breaking her bottles of wine."

"Why should I? You cannot tell me what I should and should not do. Not, step out of my way!" said the man of the south fiercely, trying once again to push by the maiden. Yet, once again, she held him back. Many of the partiers turned to look at the two, for Snaveling's previous words had been rather loud.

"Snaveling, please listen to me," Galadel said softly, a hint of sadness in her voice, "If you do not do as I say, everything that you have gained in the past few weeks will once again be lost to you and your dreams will fade. I promise you that if you go through with your plan Roa will never speak with you again. Is that what you wish to happen? Is it?"

Galadel turned slightly sideways and looked across the room. Snaveling followed her steady gaze. There, all alone at a table sat Roa. She was looking at them, her eyes wide, wondering what was going on and what they were saying. The memory of his dreams came back to Snaveling as he thought over all that had happened over the last few weeks.

Finally he heard Galadel's voice in his ear once more. "You better make your chose quickly, Snaveling, for here they come for you."

Snaveling looked towards the door where a hobbit boy stood scanning the room, seraching for someone in particular. So, the man of the south thought, and then knew what his chose would be.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama looked slightly grim. "Adu...If you will, it would most likely be better if it was I who attempted to petition Eomer as I served with him for many years. If my petition succeeds I will be back within a week, after making necessary adjustments such as lifting the death warrant on Crystal." Crystal looked shocked behind his back, but Hama didn't see.

"I can almost guarrantee there will be a breakaway movement still loyal to Dorian's ideals. However I will do my best to quell it." Adu nodded slowly. "Yes, you are right. A human soldier who has fought in many battles with Eomer most likely will have a chance of succeeding the petition..." Hama looked at her. "On my return, Adu, I will make you my right hand." Adu smiled gently.

"Go, Hama. Return soon, with good tidings, a general's livery and several bodyguards!" Hama smiled and turned. He said audibly, "I'll be back in a week if all goes well..." before striding out of the inn and mounting his horse. Crystal and Adu listened to the clip-clop of the hooves receeding down the path...

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Curse her! Snaveling swore inwardly. Her and all the others like her who won’t let a man have his own way in peace! He glared up at Galadel through his drink-soaked eyes, hearing only a few of her words above the roar that the brandy had set off in his ears. He tried to force his way past her to where Toby sat, sure that in his friend there would be at least one person who would not judge him and hate him and spit upon him for being what and who he was. The Elf woman was much stronger than he had anticipated, however, and easily prevented him from moving forward. So enraged did he become with her that he began to contemplate another use for the bottle beneath his tunic, but his violent hand was stilled by a single sentence of Galadel’s that came to him clear through the fogs of rage, shame, confusion and drink: I promise you that if you go through with your plan Roa will never speak with you again.

His heart lurched at the thought and his gorge rose. Forgetting that he had stolen the brandy he pulled it out from beneath his clothes and took another long pull from it to quell his stomach. The liquor burned through his pain and tore a hole in his rage, letting out a pathetic sob of drunken misery. He lurched forward and caught himself on a table, dropping the bottle with such a crash that for a moment the room stilled and turned its attention toward him. As before, when he was singing, the eyes bore into him with a hateful mixture of apathy, amusement and dislike. This time, however, he could feel the resentment and disdain of the people about him like a thick cloak of treacle, and he could smell their hatred like the vile smoke of a funeral pyre. He raised his eyes toward Galadel and saw coming up behind her the small hobbit lad who had spotted him from the door. Aman then swam into view at the bar. Her eyes stabbed him like daggers and Snaveling knew that there was a reckoning to be had more dear than he was perhaps able to pay.

“Galadel,” he gasped, his voice still bitter and stinging. He was in a mood to hurt, and he flung his words at the Elf as though they were stones. “Why are you always whispering in my ear that my happiness is to be lost? Why cannot you just leave me alone?”

Galadel sighed. “It is not I who besets you, Man of the South. It is yourself. I only offer you my help in the battle that you must continually wage against your greatest enemy.”

“And who would that be?” he mocked. “How am I to tell who is my greatest enemy, when I am surrounded by those who hate me,” he looked at Aman, “or who regret that they ever pretended to befriend me!?” and he glared at Roa.

“Snaveling!” Galadel’s tone staggered him like a slap. “There is very little time. You must choose, now, what your path in life will be. Once before you confessed to a crime – remember the benefits of that! This time you must not just confess but seek to make amends to the one you have harmed.”

The hobbit lad stood before Snaveling. Looking up into the eyes of the much taller Man he said in an important tone, “Miss Aman wants to speak with you!”

Snaveling looked at Galadel and pulled himself erect. Squaring his shoulders against the drink and the emotional storm that wracked his frame, he met Aman’s eyes from across the room and said, “Yes, I imagine that she does. I believe I owe her the cost of a half dozen bottles of wine and a bottle of brandy.”

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Willow grimaced as she heard the sound of breaking glass. She held her fiddle all the tighter all of a sudden.

Aman had dashed off, and she didn't blame her. She knew what it was like when someone got drunk, or what not.

Willow flinched, and wondered if it was that dark man, and if it was her fault. She had, after all, called Aman away from him, even though the Rohan innkeeper had seemed somewhat relieved to be called away.

She drank her water down fast, and stepped out of the shadow of the corridor, and into the common room, though the slightly shy hobbit maiden still stayed on the edge of the room.

It seemed indeed to have been the dark man, but Willow knew that it was not her business.

She slipped back out the door to the halls, and breathed out sharply. She hoped that nothing would come of this.

But she couldn't rid her mind of her dark thoughts about her past.

So she picked up her fiddle, and began to play softly in the corridor.

[Witch_Queen]

Aduthondiel
She was sad to see Hama go but the fact that upon his return Adu would become Hama's right hand person sounded good to her. She wanted to cry because he was leaving but she couldn't bring herself to it. "Crystal, Hama will succeed. I just know it, I can feel it deep down inside. Now I don't have to leave this place. I can stay and watch after you and Mr. Angry. That is if you will allow me to." She had never felt wanted in her life and for a chance she didn't want to feel that way again. Dorian was dead and the only thing she hoped that would become of his death was the fact that Crystal would be able to come out of hiding and she herself would be set free from Dorian's hold on her life.

As much as Adu didn't want to face the fact that freedom had already came to her, she couldn't see herself living a free life. Adu would always be a victim to Dorian's torment and torturess reign in Middle Earth. "Perhaps some day I will be able to see the marriage that has been in progress for the longest time. Crystal allow me to stay here and protect your life until Hama returns with the station of General of Rohan?" Adu opened the door to the inn so that the two could join the rest of the party. Everything was better now that she had nothing to worry about. Hama was going to become General, Crystal would go on with her life, and Adu wasn't sure what would become of her in the near future.

[Esgallhugwen]

As Aldor was about to answer a loud resounding crash silenced the whole Inn, it was none of his business so he carried on with the conversation. "I have not been traveling for as long as you master Dwarf, for about two or so years now, and I too also go home from time to time, to check on my family. My mother worries sometimes you see, especially since I travel alone except for Nessa my chesnut mare she is very much a friend to me".

He took another gulp of cool ale which was very refreshing in the evening. "But I'm very glad to have found some friends today, it can be tiresome to walk the road alone and come to a stop but still finding no one to talk to".

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman watched, arms crossed forebodingly, as Snaveling rose unsteadily and stumbled from his chair, knocking it over and colliding with that elf, Galadel, as he did so. Aman's anger rose slightly even more. So he would even assault the other customers in my Inn directly! she thought furiously. But Galadel did not seem to mind - she actually took his arm as he slipped, steadying him as he found his feet. As he began to weave erratically towards her, Snaveling's eyes met the Innkeeper's, and she raised her chin to face him. Although she would not to admit it, there was something about this creeping, skulking dark man that scared her...

"Aman...Am...Aman..." Snaveling seemed to be having difficuly speaking as he came to face her, and the Innkeeper realised it was not only the drink which was causing problems, and although his eyes darted away from hers, she could see something else there behind the drink. Turning, she relayed her orders like a general.

"Buttercup, please could you fetch this man a glass of water and bring it to us in my parlour. Let you three servers take charge of the festivities." She turned to the rest of the Common Room at large and smiled. "In the spirit of the party, all drinks from now on shall be on the house! May the food and drink flow freely!"

If there is one thing that makes people, especially the good folk of the Shire, forget their misgivings faster than anything else, it is free food. Good natured murmuring resumed around the room as people turned back to their conversations and there was a sudden rush towards a surprised-looking Ruby behind the bar. Her voice covered by to all others by the amiable chatter, Aman spoke softly to the drunken, sorry-looking individual in front of her. "Snaveling, I wish to have a word with you in which I think you must make a few...decisions."

The man gave his familiar sneer and pulled his arm from Aman's grasp, turning away, but he stopped halfway as if a memory made suddenly tangible held him back. He sagged slightly and turned back. "Lead on, Mistress Rohan," he said, but the spite in the words was too half-hearted for Aman to take any offence. Galadel moved forward to come as well, but Aman shook her head. Usually she wouldn't be as naive to go into a room alone with a drunken man, but Snaveling seemed suddenly limp and half hearted. "Mistress Galadel, I need to speak alone with him for a few moments."

The elf held Aman's gaze with her wise, ancient one, then nodded. Aman smiled, inclining her head, then turned to lead Snaveling to her private parlour. Opening the door to him, Aman followed, then shut the door, shutting out the noise of the busy Inn at the same time. Turning to Snaveling, who had a look in his eyes like a trapped rat, she motioned for him to sit down and seated herself in one of the two armchairs by the fire and began.

"Snaveling, since you came to the Inn I must admit I have had a few doubts. At the very beginning there was some strange news that you tried to trap a woman inside the cellar when the Inn was on fire, which would have been something very like murder. But," she held up a hand as he started to rise angrily then continued. "But I have never really been one to believe gossip. However, will you deny that it was you knocked over the wine?"

A sullen shake of the head.

"And you did it deliberately?"

The man hesitated, then nodded. Aman was slightly surprised - she had not expected him to admit it, and it changed her opinion of him very slightly. When she had seen the shattered wine bottles and their spilt contents, the Innkeeper had had every intention of banning the man from the Green Dragon for the rest of eternity. This coming forward and now admitting his crime made things rather more complicated and spoke of something other than common roguery. She sighed and sat back, looking up at him.

"Snaveling, I have never yet banned anyone from this Inn, but the unpleasantness you showed by that action..." she paused, contemplating him, then sat forward. "Here is the deal, sir. Much as you may think it, I do not hate you - I don't know you, and unfortunately for you, all I have really seen of you first hand is what you did this afternoon. But I know that you worked on the rebuilding of the Inn, and by coming forward, you have showed some further merit and I shall reward it; I will not ban you from the Green Dragon and neither will I take from you your lodgings here. However, payment must be given - can you pay in money for what you...destroyed?" She eyed the bottle of brandy the man still gripped as she said the last word, then moved her green eyes up to meet his dark gaze.

[Kitanna]

"Yes, that's the curse of the traveller." Deva said, "On the road for the weeks at a time and even in a crowded inn no one to talk to." He smiled and took a sip of his ale. "Well, I'm off to let you two enjoy the evening and I'll find my own companion." He bowed slightly to Aldor and Peony as he rose and disappeared into the crowds.

"When he says find a companion it really means he's going to find a pint." Peony remarked, "Hard working as any, but he can be one heavy drinker."

Check your PM's please.

~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The bottle hung in his hand like the body of a dead thing. Snaveling raised it to his lips, but the smell of the liquor nauseated him and he set it aside on the low table that stood by the chair. He glared at the floor and thought for so long that Aman began to think that he had passed out from the drink. Quietly, he spoke, as though to himself but just loud enough that the Innkeeper could hear every word.

“I do not have any money to pay for what I’ve stolen. I cannot redeem myself of this crime. Ha! Redeem myself? Is such a thing possible? Galadel would say so, but I do not know why. Tobias is certain that I am a good fellow and one worthy of his friendship, but he is a fool – a simple-minded fool like all the denizens of this little land. As for Roa. . .there was a time, perhaps, when she thought me worth some effort, but now she will not entertain any such impulse, unless it be to see me strung up by the neck in the eyes of her King. Her precious King! She says that he will see justice done for me, but what justice is there for me but death? I’m a thief, and a liar and a sneak. You’ve heard rumours, you say? Well, they’re all true. I did try to murder Roa. I left her in the cellar to burn and I didn’t care. That’s the kind of Man I am. Do you know that the first thing I did when I arrived at this blasted Inn was to steal some food from the kitchen and set fire to the woods about it? I wanted only for it to burn – to burn to the ground with everyone in it so I could pick through the bones looking for trinkets. But that plan was ruined, just as they always are. I tried to steal some gold, but Roa did something to me that made it impossible for me to keep it. I was tortured for weeks in ways that you cannot imagine and which make my very blood freeze to recall. So that plan, too, was ruined. Always things are ruined. My plans, my life…

“My life… I have wandered the Wilds looking only for a place where I could live my life alone and unfettered by the demands of others. Do you know the torments I have suffered, the empty waste miles I have crossed with nothing but a cold word and a closed door to keep me for the night? Do you know what it’s like to leave your people for so long that you pass through the longing to return, and find only on the other side the empty grey feeling that you no longer care to return? Have you even been homeless Mistress Rohan? I don’t mean between homes, or not at home, or away from home – but truly homeless? Having nowhere to call your own. Nowhere to lay your head. Nowhere to imagine in the lonely nights when you are the only creature in the universe who cares whether you live or die?

“I know what that is like. I have known for so long that it has become a part of me. Sometimes I fear that it has become the whole of me. I’ve forgotten so much in the years that I’ve wandered, that just about the only thing I could remember was that I had nowhere to call my own. It became a kind of comfort to me – for the man who has nothing, there is nothing that can be taken away. A man with no home can never be exiled.

“At least, that’s the way it’s been for me for years. That’s the way I’ve come to expect my life to continue and end. But when you threatened me just now with being sent away from the Inn…my heart almost stopped. It’s a kind of pain that I’ve not felt in so long that I no longer have a name for it. It’s a kind of pain that cuts so close to the bone that it’s almost a kind of pleasure. I don’t want to leave this place. I want to stay.” For the first time since he’d started talking he looked up and met Aman’s eyes. The despair that she saw there was enough to wring her own heart. He was drunk, yes, but it was not the liquor that spoke now, it was some part of Snaveling that had not seen the light in far too many years. “I cannot pay for the wine I have destroyed. I cannot be redeemed for my crimes against you and against all the people who care for the Green Dragon Inn. I can only be punished. But how do you punish a man who has nothing? How do you meet out justice to someone who hopes only for death?”

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman regarded the man carefully, moved in her heart by the despairing words he spoke. But although he spoke of his own misfortune, he was not self-pitying; and although he was drunk, his words were sober. The Innkeeper now understood, as far as one who had not experienced what he had, why Snaveling was as he seemed to others: bitter, angry, despairing.

"You said the pain you felt when I said I would send you away was...Why does the Inn mean so much to you?" she said very softly. The man simply twisted his lips bitterly and contented himself with tracing the label of the bottle with the tip of one long finger, looking away from the Innkeeper. Aman rose from her seat and turned away, absently looking into the fire, her hands behind her back, then she looked back at Snaveling.

"You know I only really fear one thing, Snaveling?" she said suddenly. He looked up at her, apparent disbelief in his eyes, but also still that hopelessness. Aman paused, then continued, looking back into the roaring fireplace. "Fire. That is really the only thing I am truly afraid of. You see, master Snaveling, I have lived 24 years, most of them in or around Rohan - I was 11 years old, nearly 12, during the War of the Ring, and, ironically, at the time I was working as a groom in Minas Tirith, in Gondor. When the Nazgul attacked, there was...fire, all around, destroying everything, killing all in its path, be they people or animals. I saw horses plummet from the sky and two of the older grooms engulfed in flames, snuffed out in a moment." The Innkeeper paused, a shudder rippling down her slim frame. The flames of the fire dancing in her green eyes as the memory of fire much worse leapt in her memory, sorrow tracing the lines of her young face, before she continued.

"Do not mistake my words, Snaveling - I am not trying to compete with you, of course - there would be no point, for you have experienced much beyond anything I have been endured, whether it was the attack on Minas Tirith or anything further than that in my travels. What...well, what I am trying to say, I suppose, is that maybe I have over-reacted-"

"You did not over react, Mistress Rohan. Not at all." Snaveling's voice was very soft and bitter. Aman smiled very slightly and gently, turning her gaze to him.

"Are you going to insist on calling me that?" she replied quietly, then shrugged. "I doubt very many people will know exactly how much you broke down there, and the bottle of brandy...it is an unnecessary detail. This Inn is stocked with decades of alcohol, and I don't think any of the previous Innkeepers, even the hobbit ones, know exactly how far back the cellar extends or just how much accumulated drink resides within it. What I am saying is that a few bottles of wine, however fine and precious, no matter who they were given by...they cannot merit the total destruction of happiness that you have described.

"You see, Snaveling, tonight three visitors will arrive at the Inn, friends of mine, probably expecting to see wreck and ruin left of the Green Dragon. Thanks to the kindness and generosity of the folk of the Shire and travellers passing by, they will find quite a different image, and will of course be delighted about it. I do not want this to be blighted by what would probably be the only ban from this Inn ever inflicted, and neither do I want my conscience to be blighted with the knowledge that I turned you out. And neither," she added. "Do I want to know that you are sleeping rough when you could be here."

Snaveling said nothing, still tracing the label of the brandy with his fingers, and Aman turned to sit slowly in the armchair again, the fire dancing on the pale skin of her side as she leant forward to meet his eyes.

"Maybe you are telling me a made up sob story, Snaveling, and maybe you are nothing more than the thief and liar that you percieve yourself to be. But I don't think so. And payment?" She smiled. "How much do you think ten days hard manual labour to rebuild an Inn would cost? Reckon it would cover the cost of half a dozen bottles of wine?"

She walked over to the door, placing one hand on the knob as she looked back over at Snaveling. "Come, Master Snaveling, the party continues. Take the brandy as...a gift."

Ngole slowed her horse to a stop. Looking carefully through the protection of her hooded cloak, she glaced upwards to the sign above the door.
The Green Dragon Inn... That was right.

The elfess swiftly jumped from her horse to the ground. She pointed down the road and softly whispered to it. At this, the gallant steed cantered down the pebbled path, and into a local stable. Hakiel (the horse) was of Rohan blood, and understood the ancient tongue of Quenya. He was her closest friend.

Ngole stepped now to the damp wooden path leading to the Inn. Pulling her hood from her deep brown waves of hair, she touched the brass knob. Pushing steadily, the door opened, and warmth flooded her senses.

Smiling to the bookeeper, she stepped into the Inn, and cleared her throat.
"One room, please; whatever is available."

He flipped nimbly through the pages, and scanned down the row with his finger.
"Ah, room 124, just that way," he pointed through the room, to a dim hallway.

"Thank you." Ngole took notice of everything in the room... the many people.. from different lands... the blazing flames within the fireplace... the worn oak floor... the sturdy wooden tables. It was a very bustling place. Everyone talking, singing, dancing, and drinking.

Shaking herself from her sort of trance, she made her way to the softly lighted hall.

Atop a pale red steed built for speed and stamina a young girl only 16 years of age rides down the dark forested path that lead to the Green Dragon Inn. She is of average height of 5"3' her hair is a deep golden hue pulled back into a tight braid, her skin dark, from years of riding and training she had gone through to become a shield Maiden of Rohan. Her eyes are what people notice first, they are dark misty green/gray; they pierced what ever they sought.

She wore clothing unlike any of the surrounding lands, her white tunic is lose linen that is laced up the front with leather lacings, the tight fitting breaches were of soft deer leather, her footwear is hard riding boots that come up to her knee, tucked into each boot top are small daggers ornately carved with running wolves. Her clock is of an enchanted material, on the color shifted in the light and dark.

On her shoulder is a gray winged falcon, no leg jesses held him to her, no hood hindered his view. Strapped to her back is a broad sword, larger than a male twice her size would conceder using. Tucked into the girth strap of her horses saddle is a long bow 5 feet in height, hanging from her saddle packs is a quiver of arrows tipped with deadly tips.

As she rounded the last bend in the trail, she knew she had come to the right place to start her quest; A'owyn shield Maiden has begun her journey

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal turned to Adu and smiled.

"Of course I want you to stay. You don't have to look after me if you don't want to, but it is a comfort to know that you are here. It is so wonderful to finally be truly free to do what I want with my life," Crystal said.

She watched the Inn. This was her new home and there was now nothing on middle earth that could stop her from being just what she always wanted to be. There was nothing that was going to stop her from being free for the first time. She was the one that now got to make decisions about her life. It was the best thing that she could ever know.

"I know Hama will become the new General of Rohan. He will make a fine General and you a fine second in command. Rohan will finally be safe under the protection of you two. Rohan has finally come out of my father's tyrantry."

[Memory of Trees]

Kyria stepped through the inn door just like the hundreds of guests that had been there before her. She paused for a moment on the threshold, thinking of all the boots and sandals and slippers that had stood in that very spot. The soles of her bare feet tingled delightfully, and she was over with the enourminty of it. A thousand faces flashed through her brain, flicking past like a swarm of blinking fireflies. Opening her eyes, Kyria smiled. So many people, and she remembered them all.

The Green Dragon Inn was as full of people as the young elf's mind. Merry laughter rang out around the common room, and Kyria was immersed in a general felling of happines. She heard each voice individually, each conversation was seperate from the other. Pressing her palms together, she shivered with glee. A party! She loved parties. But first things first, of course.

After recieving a room number from the bookkeeper, Kyria headed off up the stairs. It was quieter on the second floor, and she glanced down at the slip of paper with the number on it. Room 125, it said.

Kyria rounded the corner of the hall, running smack into another guest. Both girls fell to the floor, and Kyria jumped to her feet, helping the other girl up and apologizing fervently. "Oh! Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry Ngole," she said, retrieving the other woman's slip of paper up off the floor. "Sorry, I didn't see, I guess," she said again, handing it back to her.

The young woman blinked. "It's alright," she said calmly, taking the paper back. Then, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, "But how do you know my name?"

Kyria stared back at the woman. It was too hard - too hard to explain, too hard to understand. "Lucky guess, I suppose," she said with a shrug. If she'd have had the presence of mind, Kyria probably would have said something like "the bookkeeper told me," but she was still reeling from the shock of actually touching someone. "I'm Kyria," she said, but didn't extend her hand. She wasn't sure her poor nerves could handle it.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

“A gift…” Snaveling could not believe his ears, and for the time it took Aman to move to the door he fought through the drink and despair toward recognition of what had happened…again. Again, he had erred and committed a wrong and again he had been forgiven. Again, he had revealed his truest nature and again it had been met with pity rather than cruelty; mercy rather than the rough form of justice that he had come to expect in the outside world. The “outside” world? he thought to himself. Am I so comfortable in this place already that I feel as though the rest of the wide world is common in that it is not here? Am I already so at home in this place… At home: the phrase burst open in his mind like a blossom of flame. He was at home here; truly and fully at home.

He leapt to his feet and stayed Aman from leaving the room. “Mistress Aman,” he said, a smile spreading across his features giving his pallid hue a healthiness and warmth that shone through even the livid colours of his intoxication and shame. “I cannot tell you what you have done for me this night. You offer me a gift of the brandy – rather, I will take it in payment for whatever services I can do you in the time that I remain here. You speak of three who are coming who are important to you. Please, if there is aught that I can do to aid you in preparing for them, let me know. As to my accommodation, I have spent a lifetime in the wild and prefer the outside. My bunk in the stables will do nicely for me, if that is acceptable to yourself.”

Aman smiled at Snaveling. She remained a little unsure but clearly took heart from his altered manner. “That is acceptable to me entirely, and understandable for there are many horses whose company I prefer over many peoples!”

Snaveling’s smile grew as well, and he took Aman’s hand in both of his own and kissed it. “My lady,” he began, but the Innkeeper cut him off. “We’ll have none of that,” she said pulling her hand free.

“Very well,” the Man continued, “I shall call you Aman, then, and no longer Mistress Rohan. I’ve come to see of late that many things I held to be true are not, and I begin to believe that my opinion of your people is perhaps formed of too slight an acquaintance. I will not and cannot forsake the grievances of my people, but I will in future attempt to form my opinion of your kin based on their behaviour toward me, rather than what I have heard reported of them by their enemies.” Aman smiled and said that this, at least, was a step in the right direction. But Snaveling’s face grew dark once more, and his aspect grave as his mind turned to another matter. Aman looked at him with the unspoken question in her eye. For a moment, Snaveling hid his feelings, but the frank nature of the woman overcame the last of his secretiveness and he spoke out. “Before I can find real peace, there are people I need to speak with, and hard truths I need to confess. I believe that now, I am ready finally to do so!”

Aman opened the door and, together with Snaveling, they rejoined the party.

[Archsage Isaac]

Walking slowly, Isaac rounded a bend in the forest trail. His pace was slow and constant. I can't believe that I got lost in this forest. I knew I shouldn't have gone left and that last fork in the path... he thought as he wiped his forhead on the back of his hand. He stood well over 6 feet and had a weathered appearance to him, as if beaten by the elements for quite some time. His appearance gave him a quite old look, though he was only 20 years of age. On his hip he carried a large blade, sheathed for his protection as well as others'.

Isaac wore simple attire, black clothes with a white cape hanging loosely off his shoulders. The clothes had a few small tears from travel but otherwise were in perfect condition. He wore simple black boots, the leg of his pants had been tucked in a bit but still hung over the edge of the rim. His cape was barely hanging above the ground, now and again it would look as though playing a game of tag with Isaac's legs. Darting forward as his leg went forward, and darting back as the his leg went back. Everyonce in a while the game would be interrupted by a random gust of wind. His golden hair hung in a loose ponytail, which stopped just before the base of his neck. His eyes had once been compared to "dual pools of shades darker than the deepest seas".

After he'd stopped and taken a drink from his cantine, he continue walking along the path. Now he only hoped to find someplace to rest, and after walking around the next bend he found exactly what he wanted. "The Green Dragon Inn..." he muttered, too exhausted to care about anything else. He approached then Inn, and knew that this would be the place where his next journey began.

[nynnd1]

Bredan sat there with his drink, looking at it more than drinking it. He had been thinking how lovely Aman was, both fair of speech and looks.

"I wondor if she is ok", he said just before taking a sip of his drink.

He was never a really big drinker, it always seemed to get him into trouble, but he thought he deserved this one for all the walking he had done, and besides, she gave it to me. This was one of the best ales he had ever had though, a kind of fruity reviving taste it had, in his reckoning

The lady came out of the door, patrolling the bar and smiling and having small talk with the customers, alot from different races. As she came near him he took a breath to speak.

"My name is Bredan of Gondor, and i am in your service if you can give me accomadation?"

The outburst that came out of his mouth seemed to shock him, but he liked it her and wanted to stay, he needed a rest and this seemed the best place.

[Gil-Galad]

Please check your PM's.

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Kransha]

Toby, who suddenly realized that all manner of sanity was leaving him, looked blankly, slack-jawed, at Mirabell Baggins. Of course she was pleasant, polite, sweet, and everything a fine young hobbit lass should be, but his mostly drunken eyes only saw a course outline of her as he staggered up from the chair, trying to keep his head from lolling to one side drowsily. He needed to replenish himself, though he was already fairly replenished. The gentlehobbit, almost spinning in place, ambled right over, nearly falling on Miss Baggins, and said, as politely and tranquilly as he could, what he thought he needed to say to get out of this party’s fiery maw for a minute. His right eye, straying from the gaze of his left, somehow caught the distinct signature of Snaveling in the crowd and resolved to head towards that locale.

“Yes…indeed…Resting my eyes, of course…Will you excuse me for a moment?”

He didn’t wait for Mira to dignify his mumbled question with response as he scurried off in his rodent way, but more foolishly and clumsily than before. Almost dancing through the crowd like an idiot, his head lopsided, his feet constantly tripping each other as he fell into a number of people and forgot to apologize as he waltzed his way drunkenly on. He had no idea what Miss Aman put in the drinks she served, but either it was far too powerful, or he’d imbibed far too much of it. Either way, the taste of the fluid was still fresh in him and his constantly blinking eyes drifted between closing and opening. Finally, after much bashing into bystanders, Toby ran into the person he sought, namely Snaveling.

“Snavlin…umm…Snaveling, I mean…Where in the Shire did you disappear to? You would have to go off all sudden like that and leave me in the clutches of another lass….I’ve a mind to….to….Snaveling, I need something to drink…A lot of something…and fast, I do believe..."

[Esgallhugwen]

"Yes, I suppose long travels can do that to someone, taking in too much of what they've missed on the road, I have seen it before, but he is good fellow none the less you are lucky to have met him, I've heard stories now that it can still be dangerous in some parts" he shrugged always having kept a sharp eye out while still enjoying himself.

They were all wanderers then, fancy that, most have more of a reason to go traveling afar from their homes other than for the sake of adventure. Too many people know what adventures can get you into and they prefer the peaceful life, away fromthe troubles of such things.

But not Aldor, he wished to see all he could see, but always kept in mind his beloved Mother and the memory of his Father, that is why sometimes he would find himself returning home to check on her well being. Well enough of that sad thought he replied to himself smiling across the table at Peony.

[Lumiel]

The shadows of the day lengthened and Indy and Fungrim made their way back to the new Inn, ready for the party. Fungrim had plaited his beard, a design which seemed to fascinate the young girl. He was cleaned and his clothes were neat. Meanwhile, one of the hobbit women took note of Indy's condition and dragged the poor girl off.

"No! No! I don't wanna take a bath! I'm fine, I like it like this!" she protested, her feet dragging. She turned pleadingly to Fungrim. "Fuuungriiim!" she whined, "Tell her that she can't make me take any stinkin' bath!"

Fungrim laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling. "If I have to clean up, so do you!" he teased her in response. That was all she heard before being dragged upstairs. The woman led her to a small washroom and quickly put her in the oval tub, soaking her from head to toe. She scrubbed and scrubbed, taking off what seemed to be layers of grime, nearly as stubborn as Indy herself who pouted and sulked in the water.

Finally, Indy re-emerged with a pleased-looking hobbit. With a warning to not get dirty again and the promise of another bath if she did, Indy was released. Her hair was shiny and clean, and partially pulled back by a red ribbon. She wore a red dress with sleeves that reached to her elbows and what appeared to be a corset of a pale white around her middle. The only consolance for her was that she had not been forced to wear shoes.

Trudging over to Fungrim, she pulled herself up to the chair and sat down with a dramatic flourish, folding her hands on the table and setting her chin down on top. "I didn't need a bath. I'm just gonna get dirty again anyway!" she said.

"Well Indy, it's the way things are. You have to take a bath. Sometimes you have to do things that you don't want to, it's life." he told her in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Traitor!" she said, glaring at him. Her brow was drawn low over her large, expressive eyes which were at the moment half-squinted. Her lower lip pouted out slightly, and she had an overall air of being miffed about her. Put together, she looked like a tiny, angry bull. Fungrim chuckled at the image as he drank from his mug. "What are you laughing at?" she accused.

"Well lass, it's just that I can't tell if you're a little girl or a bull, what with that face." he answered. Indy sat up indignantly, her mouth open and her eyes wide. The dwarf laughed again. "Do you have any horns under that clean head of yours?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

As indignant as she felt and as stubborn as she was about making sure Fungrim knew how indignant she felt, she felt a smile tugging at her mouth. In a moment, she broke out laughing, the sound ringing out like the spring cry of a robin. Fungrim echoed her laughter, his voice a deep but matching partner for her child's voice. "I don't have any horns, but watch out, I'm a big, bad, wolf! Rarrr!" she said cheerfully, raising her hands like claws and making a snarling mouth with a crinkled nose, complete with a matching smile and giggle. The party had just begun and already Indy felt wound up and giddy.

[Kitanna]

Peony looked at Aldor, who seemed to be in a trance before smiling once more at her. "Are you alright? You seemed worried just a moment ago." Peony returned Aldor's smile.

"Perhaps a little homesick?" Peony knew what it meant to be homesick. Days would come when all she felt like doing was turning around and returning to Minas Tirith. Yet at the same time she was out to prove her father wrong.
You will not last a month in the wild Peony. You will return with your tale between your legs like a wounded dog.

Peony loved her father, but she had to show him she could handle being away from home. She looked at Aldor and laughed a little. "Perhaps something to take your mind off our troubles. Care for another dance?"

[Archsage Isaac]

Isaac, though weary from travel, was still in control of his senses enough to hear the general chatter going on inside of the Inn. He slowly wiped his face with his sleeve and readjusted the bag on his shoulder. After raking his hair from his face he walked to the entrance. As he entered, he nearly bumped into a few people. Aplogizing to them, he slowly made his way back to a fairly isolated table in the rear. There was a couple of people around him, but he would have to bear it for the moment. Isaac placed his bag on the table first and then slumped into an empty chair with an above average thud. After looking around to see if it had disturbed anyone, he removed the weighted cape he wore and gently placed it gently on the ground by his feet.

After looking around the room once again, he sighed heavily. Just what I needed...a party. he thought sarcastically, impatiently tapping his foot against the ground. "Oh well, don't worry about one such as me, I'm just a weary wanderer. I'll be better as soon as I get some rest..." he said in a low voice, really hoping that none of the ones around him heard his words...

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Willow set down her fiddle, having played out her moods on the violin. She was okay now, though she still wondered everything, everyone, who, what, where, when, why...

She had been like that as a child, though now she had more sense... normally. With all the past events, she really was beginning to wonder about everything and everyone.

A man walked into the inn, and nearly walked into her. She jumped back before he crashed into her, and steadied her fiddle, nearly dropping it.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, before heading to a table in the back of the common room.

He sat down with a greater than normal 'thud', and Willow flinched visibly. She hated when people sat so hard that the chair nearly broke.

Not that it had.

Unconsciously, she clutched her violin closer, and looked around for somewhere to sit down; wondering, all the while, if Aman had remembered that she was suppose to fiddle later that night...

With all the events taking place seemingly, it appeared that she might forget, and that, if the party kept up like this, things might end earlier. Willow had never liked parties that much, and nearly always slipped away before the end, anyhow.

But this one was taking so many turns, things might end up ending earlier that night.

The younger hobbit maiden walked to an empty table nearer to the edge of the room, and sat down, stroking her fiddle fondly, and thinking. Thinking of everything.

She smiled wistfully at her fiddle, and sat back to relax.

[Kitanna]

Deva wandered around the inn making conversations with one or two people as he drank his ale and enjoyed the party. As Peony had said he was getting drunk, but Deva was still relatively composed. Three ales was not enough to affect the better half of this judgement.

As he pushed past on his way for another ale he tripped over and foot that lay in his path. "Bah!" Was all that escaped as he came crashing to the ground.

He had fallen by the feet of a young man with golden locks falling into his face. "I meant to do that." Deva grumbled as he got up. "He smiled and extended his hand to Isaac. "Sorry for all the ruckus. Please let me buy you a drink. My name is Deva and yours young traveller?" Deva waited for an answer.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling had never been more pleased to see Toby than in that moment. He had amends to make to many people, but he knew that it would be best to wait until he was sober to speak with most, and that it would be easiest to begin with the gentle-hobbit. He handed the now half-empty bottle of brandy to his friend and bid him drink it down. Toby’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the bottle and he let out a low whistle. “Where in the Shire did you get this?” he asked. “Why I’ve not suh. . .seen a genuine bottle of 1385 in yuh…years. We need glasses!” He scrambled to the bar, looking more like a rodent than when he were sober, and demanded two snifters. Aman smiled lightly as she handed them over to the hobbit and her eyes met Snaveling’s. It seems that the brandy was an even richer gift than I thought, he reflected. Still, it’s not half so rich as what else I’ve gained this night.

Toby was soon at Snaveling’s side and they looked about them for someplace to sit. There were a couple of empty chairs near where Roa and Galadel sat, but Snaveling urged Toby to sit with him somewhere else, as he was not feeling quite ready to face them. The hobbit, too far gone to notice his friend’s reticence, quickly guided them through the press of bodies to a quieter corner where they were able to commandeer two armchairs. Carefully pouring out the brandy, Toby settled back into the soft cushions and took a deep sniff. He let out a sigh of utter satisfaction before sipping the brandy as though it were liquid gold. Following his example, Snaveling took a gentle sip and found that all the hard pulls he had taken from the bottle before had done the liquor a terrible disservice. It warmed his tongue and filled his belly with blueberry jam. His exchange with Aman had done much to sober him, but he still sipped his glass slowly in order to enjoy the drink and prevent himself from falling into a total stupor.

“So,” Toby began, simultaneously closing his eyes and laying his head back against the chair, “What were you and Aman doing closeted together like that?”

Snaveling was not ready to tell Toby about the wine and stealing the brandy. “We were merely working out the details of my continued presence here,” he said. “I can’t afford to pay for a room or board, but she’s agreed to let me stay on and help out in exchange for my lodgings.”

“Good, good,” Toby said, not really listening, his eyes still closed. “What I think we need Snaveling is a suh…song” he hiccuped. “You have a surprisingly good voice – who would have thought it to luh…look at you! Would you care to give us another?” Snaveling took another gentle sip of the brandy, and whether it was the liquor or what had transpired with Aman he could not tell, but he was not at all averse to singing. In fact, he found that he rather wanted to.

“There's a bower of roses,
by Brandywine’s stream,
And the nightingale sings
'round it all the day long.
In the time of my childhood
'Twas sweet like a dream,
To sit by the roses
And hear the bird's song.
That bower and its music
I never can forget,
But of when alone
In the bloom of the year
I think, "Is the nightingale
singing there yet?"
Are the roses still bright
by the calm Brandywine?

“No, the roses soon withered
that hung over the wave,
But the blossoms were gathered
While freshly they shone,
And the dew was distilled
On the flowers, that gave
All the fragrance of summer -
when summer is gone.
Thus memory draws from delight
ere it dies,
An essence that breathes
of it many a year.
Thus, bright to my soul
as 'twas then to my eyes,
Is that bower on the banks
of the calm Brandywine.”

Snaveling finished his song, and to his own surprise, smiled and bowed his head to the scattered applause. “Well my friend,” he said turning to Toby, “What say you to my song?” He paused for a moment. “Toby? Are you awake?”

[Archsage Isaac]

Isaac was shocked at first when Deva hit the floor, but then more dumbfounded as he apologized for falling. "My name is Isaac, and do not apolgize for tripping, Deva, it was not your fault." he replied, shaking Deva's hand. "Please do sit, take a load off." he said, gently pushing one of the other chairs at the table out with his foot.

After some careful consideration, Isaac began to speak to Deva. "I think I will accept your offer for that drink, though I don't know what's good..." he said with an exhausted sigh. He once again pushed his hair from his face and awaited further conversation with Deva.

[Kransha]

As they had before, Toby Hornblower’s eyes fluttered open foolishly as he looked, a dumb expression peeled over his features, at Snaveling.

“Ye…yes, I’m awake, of course I’m awake, I’m more awake than…than…” his voice faded into blurs and slurs and incomprehensible babbling as he examined the oddly friendly, though consternated look on his friend’s face. He blinked and felt a sudden swelling in his belly and throat. Though he knew it blasphemous to allow such a thing after such a song, he could not contain it. A small, gurgling, muffled belch escaped Toby like a contained explosion, but that didn’t seem to faze Snaveling.

“I do think it were a good song….I especially like the part about the wine….yes, yes, t’was a good bit. Ye should sing more often, me friend, people would think better of ye.” Toby’s words became rustic, as did his look. All his lessons in high-class hobbit behavior failed him as his posture crumbled, his face looked drunker than ever, and he found himself hiccupping continuously. Snaveling nodded pensively, smiling just barely beneath his normal façade. Suddenly, Toby’s merry but befuddled expression changed as he dug a hand into his pocket slowly, his gaze straying from Snaveling.

His dimmed eyes turning back to the man, he thumped his filled hand on a small round table sitting beside his armchair. He pulled the hand drowsily off the table to reveal what he’d been holding. It was a small but weighty cloth purse, filled with the shapes of many jingling coins that chimed together like small delicate bells as the elder hobbit’s hand sifted the bag back and forth. The coin purse held the worn mark of the Hornblowers, an intricately inked horn with a precise laurel around it. The hobbit shot Snaveling a meaningful but tired look and leaned forward, speaking as seriously as he could when drunk.

“Snaveling. I do b’lieve the time has come ta make my little ‘plan’ public, since I don’t think I can trust myself to remember it any longer. Ya see, I’ve been savin’ somethin’ fer tonight…A little recum…recom…recompense for all the trouble I’ve caused and such…Bein’ a prosperis hobb’t of the south, I have a lot of money nowadays…I decided that t’would be best ta give a li’l ‘donation’ to Miz Aman and the Green Dragon…But now, I fear I might spend it on a tall mug of ale if I’m not careful, so I thought I might entrust it to a trustworthy someone until the time comes ta present it to Miz Aman or someone of that caliber…So, perhaps you could keep the gift until it’s required…”