The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[piosenniel]

Vinca had just come out of the pantry when the Elven lady passed into the common room. A curious entrance she thought wondering why someone, and an Elf to boot seemed to be sneaking through the back way. ‘Wonder what that’s all about?’ she murmured to herself.

Cook sat the bowl of dried beans she’d brought out from the oaken barrel in the pantry down on the table top. From the braid of onions that hung near the stove she selected three of the bigger ones, bringing them and her knife and a cutting board over to the table, too.

She was just about to begin peeling and chopping the onions when she noted the kitchen door seemed to be closing by itself . . . and sighing, too!

Had the Elven lady enchanted it, she wondered, her brow furrowed. But no, the slender fingers of a real hand were slipping from round the door.

‘You!’ she called loudly, walking quickly to the door. ‘Get yourself in here, why don’t you?’ She pushed the door back open and motioned him in. ‘Tea?’ she asked, getting down the pot from the shelf over the stove. ‘You sound as if you might need a hot cuppa and a ready ear.’ She bustled about getting cups and the canister with the nut cookies.

[Folwren]

The night had been long and merry, and Wren was completely worn out. She had eaten and danced and eaten and played with the children who’d come about and eaten some more. Tim kept up with her fairly well, but he knew that had they anyone really looking out for them Wren, if not also himself, would have been put to bed long ago. He wasn’t feeling tired yet, though, and continued to remain out with the main party. However, after some time of not seeing his sister, he began to wonder where she’d gone off to. He quietly got up to search for her and before long, found her curled up on a bench, just about asleep.

“Wren,” he said softly, shaking her by the shoulder. “Wren wake up.”

“Is it morning?” she asked, her eyes dull with sleep and her voice heavy with tiredness. She slowly lifted her eyelids. “Tim, it’s still night. Let me sleep.”

“Of course I’ll let you sleep, but not here. Come on. Let’s get you to the hay loft where we slept last night.”

“I don’t think so,” Wren replied with a cavernous yawn. She readjusted her hands under her head and closed her eyes. “I’ll just sleep here.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and took her by the arms and hauled her to her feet. “Come on,” he said, chuckling at her suddenly roused fiery look. “You’ll be much happier up there.” He hurried her through the people who were still about and towards the dark barn. She didn’t mind the blackness of the inside, for her eyes were too closed to see much anyway. Tim, having learned his way around quite well that day, navigated them both safely to the bottom of the ladder. He set Wren’s hands on it, and bent to whisper in her ear. “Now go along,” he told her. “I’ll be up sometime.”

“Oh, alright,” she replied, too tired to argue that if she had to go to bed, he should, too. “G’night, Tim.” And she slowly made her way up the ladder to the loft. There she crawled forward, prepared to drop down in the hay farther from the edge and sleep until way past morning light.

It was dark there, and she did not see the sleeping form of the girl in front of her until she had practically crawled on top of her leg’s. Mirelle moved slightly, startled, drawing herself up into a sitting position - and Wren screamed.

“It’s a ghost! Tiiim!” She shrieked again. There was no doubt that Wren was wide awake now.

[Kath]

As Tiliowen rose to her feet the gurgle that emanated from her stomach struck Astilwen as particularly amusing. The previously lithe and agile woman had eaten so much that she was now moving like a heavily laden cart, and the hobbit couldn't help but tease her a little.

"Are you even trying to get your tummy to make excuses for you?"

She tried to keep her words serious but the natural twinkle in her eye was soon noticed by Tilionwen, who stopped blushing and set about laughing instead. Taking advantage of the other woman's distraction Astilwen took her hand and tried to lead her on to the dance floor. Strangely though she found her way impeded, first by other patrons of the Inn and then by a dragging feeling from behind. Frowning she turned, and realised that the latter was caused by Tilionwen dragging her heels in attempt to avoid dancing.

Having learnt already that talking wasn't likely to get the woman to do something she didn't want, Astilwen stood in silence and stared up into Tilionwen's eyes, using a dirty trick she had perfected, with practice, on her mother, who could no more say no to the look Astilwen was using right now than she could go a day without a meal. It seemed to have the deisred effect on Tilionwen as well, for she sighed and reluctantly acquiesced.

"Okay, okay, you win. But all I'll be doing is sway in place until this stops complaining. Good enough?"

"Absolutely."

Astilwen replied with a smile and was pleased to see Tilionwen move ahead of her onto the dance floor. She kept her word though, simply swaying from side to side. Wondering how on earth she could get the woman to dance properly Astilwen took up position in front of her and began to copy the movements. Tiliowen tried to ignore her, resolutely looking the other way. Astilwen exaggerated the swaying, refusing to move either foot so that she was almost falling every time she moved. A few of the younger hobbits nearby were pointing and laughing, and she could see Tilionwen's eyes flicking between her and the floor, knowing the woman knew the pain of being mocked and knowing she wouldn't wish it on another person. Astilwen felt a little guilty for using what the woman had told her in confidence in such a way, but she knew that if Tilionwen would only let go of her worries and her past the night would pass much more easily.

Finally it seemed that her scheming had paid off, as Tilionwen took her hands and stopped her swaying with an amused glare. Astilwen simply grinned and waited for the other woman's attempt to argue her way out.

[Firefoot]

“Of course,” answered Lily. Something had happened to Gróin while getting their drinks, but if he preferred not to talk about it, Lily didn’t want to push. She took a sip of her ale, more for politeness than because she actually liked it. In fact, she did not much like ale at all and would have preferred cider. But once more she did not say anything. She forced herself to take a second and a third swallow before setting the mug down. At any rate, if she drank much more she knew that it would go straight to her head, and she doubted that getting drunk would help in any real way.

Gróin did appear quite eager to return to dancing, and Lily did not disagree. She had too much time to think while standing around, and she did not want to think. Not of the sweet rides through the Shire countryside, nor of the flowers Posco had once woven in her hair, nor of anything.

But when she returned to the dancing with Gróin, she could only feel as if she were simply going through the motions. She smiled as brightly as ever, and her feet were light as silvery moonbeams upon the ground, yet her eyes lacked that special sparkle. The lively song sounded torrential to her ears. She wished that her carefree attitude that had fooled everyone, even herself, would become real, that she could cease to care, but she was too honest for that. She could put on a magnificent show for everyone else, even for Gróin, so attuned to everyone else’s problems, but she could not do the same for herself.

If only her heart could be as light as her feet.

[Huan]

‘You sound as if you might need a hot cuppa and a ready ear.’

Emlin smiled and took a seat at the kitchen table. He watched the Halfling bustle about the room gathering up mugs, a plate of cookies, the honey jar, and a small pitcher of rich cream.

He found himself hungry after his long walk and took one of the nut studded cookies without much prompting. ‘Delicious!’ he mumbled round a mouthful of crumbs. She poured the good, strong tea into each mug and at his nod followed it with a generous pouring of cream.

‘Tis a new thing I’ve learned I like,’ he said as he swirled his spoon about in the milky-colored brew. He reached for the honey and put in a generous spoonful of it. ‘And with good Shire honey, too!’ He took a long swallow of the steaming brew. ‘Ahhhh! Good Shire tea.’ He reached for another cookie.

They made small talk for a leisurely while. She talking about her gardens and the Inn; he about his travels with the little group of Players who were staying at the Dragon. The sort of talk done between people who did not wish to speak of any deeper or more personal things. At least he did not wish at the moment to speak of them.

About Miz Bunce, he could not be so sure . . .

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger burst through the door to the kitchen nearly tumbling into the table where Cook and the Elven man sat. She was all out of breath and had a frightened look on her face.

'Come quick!' she wheezed out, her breath coming fast. She pointed out toward the common room. 'I was just upstairs doing a quick delivery of fresh towels for the guests for tomorrow. And I was hurrying down the hall upstairs with a stack of them, when I heard the most awful yelling you can imagine.'

She sat down on a chair that Huan pulled out for her and took a big gulp of water from Cook. 'Anyways, up in the room where that pretty Elf is staying, the one with the brother here, too. That's where it's coming from.' She looked from one to another. I was going to knock and see if anyone needed help but then I heard the most awful crash against the door and I ran down to get you.'

[piosenniel]

Cook got to her feet an frown on her face. She grabbed her sturdy, oak rolling pin and made for the door of the kitchen. She eyed the Elf with whom she'd been having tea. 'This isn't anything to do with the dark hairel Lady I saw leaving my kitchen just before I saw you is it?'

‘Come on, won’t you,’ she called to Emlin, who’s face seemed a whiter shade of pale as he listened to Ginger. She shook her rolling pin at the stairs in the common room. ‘And don’t you worry none, you’ll be safe with me and my pin. Just might need someone though to talk some sense into the Elves up there.’

[Huan]

Emlin was already on his feet, even as Cook had walked toward the kitchen door. By the Valar’s grace! Surely this wouldn’t be Teluyaviel. Her brother had seemed pompous and cold, but not violent. Yet, here was the little Hobbit telling them of loud voices and the sounds of something thrown and broken.

‘If he’s harmed one hair on her precious head I shall send him Westward without need of ship to bear his blighted carcass.’ His eyes were cold as death as he followed after Miz Bunce, though behind them flickered an even colder fear that they might come too late.

He raced up the last of the stairs, leaving Cook panting after him to keep up. He balled his hands into fists and beat upon the door loudly. ‘Open up you craven coward,’ he called, trying the knob of the locked door in vain.

[Lhunardawen]

Glad that she was somehow able to appease the eager hobbit, Tilionwen walked on towards the dancing area with Astilwen at her tail. She was quite relieved that her stomach was not really as full as she thought it was, as the dull pain that had been bothering her started to subside. But she did not want to risk moving too much yet and end up throwing up - in sight of a lot of people, too - so she did as she told Astilwen she would and swayed from side to side, standing in place.

To her surprise the hobbit began to mimic her, so exaggeratedly that Tilionwen was afraid she would fall on her side to the ground. She tried to ignore her at first, yet she was unsuccessful. Astilwen looked completely ridiculous, truth be told. Tilionwen was about to tell her exactly that when she heard laughter from some way off the dance floor. She froze, and so did the words in her throat.

Her mind slipped back to those dreadful days of scorn, of ridicule, and of shame and fear. Her eyes darted to Astilwen, then to the ground, and back and forth. She knew only too well how horrible it was to be laughed at, and right now her new friend is probably finding it out for herself - only she did not seem to care. And why not? Tilionwen froze again.

Astilwen was mocking her. Perhaps in an attempt to get her to dance, but she did not really care about the reason.

An odd mix of annoyance and mirth welled up inside Tilionwen which manifested itself in an amused glare, and she held the hobbit's hands to make her stop swaying. With a look of innocence in her eyes Astilwen flashed a grin of triumph. Tilionwen narrowed her eyes further, then laughed. She thought thankfully that the swaying seemed to aid digestion somehow; her stomach felt less bloated than it did before.

"Goodness, Astilwen, must you always have things your way?" The hobbit replied with another innocent smile.

A few moments of awkward movements, steps on Astilwen's foot, and the hobbit's forgiving responses later, Tilionwen was dancing like she had been doing it her whole life, casting a few grateful glances at her little friend as she went.

[Thinlómien]

Brith was patting Grayday there at the back of the stables, in one of the darkest places. She wasn't making any loud noise either, her quiet, drunk sobs were too silent to reach over the gentle nightly noise of horses.

So she didn't wonder that she wasn't noticed by the boy and the girl who entered the stables. Though she was tired, sad and drunk, her curiousity won over everything else and she let her eyes follow them.

It was difficult to see in the dark barn, but Brith's eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The boy escorted the girl to ladders and she climbed up. Surely going to sleep, Brith thought and turned her back to the people. At the moment she preferred her own misery to strangers' goodnights.

She was just about to sit down at the floor, when someone screamed: "It's a ghost! Tiiim!" Her heart pounding fast, Brith turned her teary gaze to the ladder and the loft, waiting to see what was happening.

[Salacia Deloresista]

Mirelle sucked in a sharp breath and slowly, very slowly, let it out. A little boy's head popped up over the top of the ladder, and the little girl scrabbled towards him. Mirelle could only sit wordlessly and stare.

The very much awake, very excited little girl chattered away to the boy on the ladder, but he paid her only enough attention to shush her gently before turning back to Mirelle. "Who are you?"

"Mirelle. Who are you?" The words came out as a sort of croak. So she tried again. "Mirelle. Who are you?"

"I'm Tim, and this is my sister, Wren. You new here?"
Tim smiled. Mirelle smiled back.

"Yes," she answered. Then she burst into tears.

[Thinlómien]

The "ghost" turned out to be a frightened girl. Brith sighed, both relieved and disappointed.

She heard when the frightened girl presented herself Mirelle and the boy presented himself as Tim and the other girl as his sister Wren. Just normal, ordinary, boring life, Brith thought. But I don't have even that left, she thought despite the fact she knew she was melodramatic and started to sob again.

But after a bit of familiar conversation she heard a girl crying on the loft. She wiped away her own tears. One crying female is enough for one house, she thought. And though she was a bit drunk she understood that she was old enough to cope with her problems without crying. And the girl was probably younger than she was.

Brith decided that she should help. She walked carefully to the other end of the building. "Can I help?" she asked as she emerged from the shadows. Her eyes red from weeping and cloudy from drinking, she knew she wasn't very impressive. Even worse, she hiccuped.

[JennyHallu]

"We aren't elves; we won't be around forever."

Losse sighed. "Oh I know, but building an Inn takes something I rather consistently haven't got. If I had the money, I would build it tomorrow. Here--" She paused, an absurd, mischievious look in her eyes. "I'll make a deal with you. You become a great merchant prince, I'll help you however I can, with information and the little oomph having a pretty girl along can give your negotiations, and I'll entertain clients for you, and help you with my arrows if you're attacked...it would keep me out of trouble..." she wheedled, in her sweetest voice, trying to seem innocent and winsome, but excitement and mischief shone from every pore.

Farael laughed at her. "And what's in it for you?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Don't be ridiculous, it's obvious, to me at least." She leaned forward conspiratorially across the table. "We'd be partners, Farael. And when we'd earned enough, we could build my inn. You'd be established by then, you could hire men to watch your caravans, and much more beautiful women than I would entertain you. And then...you'll have half-share in the best Inn west of the Anduin. What do you say?"

[Folwren]

Tim still stood on the ladder, his knees resting against the floor of the loft and keeping himself up as Wren leaned heavily into his shoulder. He looked with surprise at the girl who had frightened his younger sister and now sat weeping herself. Then he shook his head with a sigh. Girls were impossible and made absolutely no sense at all.

“Look here,” he said, “there’s no call for this. What’s wrong with you?”

Then, before Mirelle could answer, a voice called from below. “Can I help?”

Tim turned his head and looked down. At the foot of the ladder stood the form a woman. He could not really see her face in the dimness. “Probably not,” he answered. It was too late to bother about sounding interesting or very polite. “I don’t even know what the problem is yet. Say, Wren, do dry up and quit being such a rag. Sit up and get over it.” He half gently pushed her away and then finished climbing the ladder. “You can come up, if you’re wanting to find out what the problem is,” he called down. He turned his attention back to the girl. “What’s the matter?” he asked, and this time, his voice was softer. “Should we go and get Cook? She might be able to help, you know.”

[Thinlómien]

First she was dismissed and she waited. Then the boy said: "You can come up, if you’re wanting to find out what the problem is." Somehow, he had the skill to make Brith feel stupid. Actually, most people had the skill. Brith felt herself stupid very often.

"I - I'd rather not", she said embarrassed. She knew she wasn't in the condition to climb up ladders. She cursed by herself. I shouldn't have put my nose in this thing. Now I only seem more stupid.

"I'll wait here, and if you need any assistance ...erm... from below, I'm glad to help", she said. Then she thought of another thing: "If I somehow disturb you or if you want privacy, please tell me and I can leave." Her voice betrayed a tiny bit of her feelings, though that was what she had tried to avoid. Again, unwanted. Needless.

She bit her lip that she wouldn't start crying. The girl probably had more severe problems and she was younger than Brith was. Her mom had always told her big sister and big brother to put Brith's worries higher in their priority, because she was smaller. And that was actually just what Brith decided to do with that crying girl. Help her, and put her own worries aside. And just then, she had to sound pitiable and attention-desiring.

[Undómë]

‘Emlin?’

Teluyaviel’s eyes peeked through the small gap of the opened door. There he was, indeed, looking angry, his fists still balled from where he’d beat against the door. And next to him stood a Halfling, with a rather formidable wooden club of sorts held ready in her hand.

‘Cook?’

Oh, did she feel foolish now. She stepped through the door closing it firmly behind her. ‘So sorry to cause all this trouble,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t Tindo who was breaking things; it was I.’ She looked from the one to the other of them. ‘He was going on so when I told him my news that . . . well, I’m afraid I picked up the water pitcher and threw it at him to get his attention. Luckily, I missed him, but I’m afraid it shattered in a million little pieces when it hit the door.’ She colored slightly and sent a sorry look toward Cook. ‘We’ll pay to have it replaced of course.’

From beyond the closed door came the sounds of a few curses in Elvish and then a long moan of exasperation. Telu opened the door to check on her brother, and through the opening the trio could see him sitting on his bed. He was bent over and his face rested in his hands. He was shaking it, all the while murmuring, ‘And now what shall I tell Mother? She set me one simple task and I’ve failed completely . . .’

[Glirdan]

As Gróin and Lily danced, he noticed that he wasn't having as much fun as he normally would. "And I think Lily is feeling the same way," he thought to himself. "We're both trying to enjoy ourselves, putting on a show for others to make it look like nothing was wrong, yet we can't convince ourselves with that mask."

After the next song finished, Gróin stopped and clapped with everyone else. "Well Lily, it was a pleasure to meet you and to dance with you. I had a great time, but I'm rather tired and need rest. I hope that we'll meet again tomorrow, before I depart for the Blue Mountains. Good night my friend, and thank you... for everything."

[Farael]

It started as a smile. The smile turned into a chuckle. The chuckle into laugh but it soon died away when Farael saw she was not joking. "Well Miss Losse, you do have a nose for opportunities, that's for sure." He smiled "Yet while your company sure is pleasing and your help appreciated, don't you think it's a bit of an unfair deal? I mean, I only have to get the money to start as a merchant myself, then find a profitable item to trade. After that I must get some luck and find important clients to buy my merchandise... and if it all goes well, in ten years I will have amased quite a fortune. Then I give you the money to start an Inn and get half the earnings of that Inn"

He waited for her nod to go on

"yet I only get half? it sure sounds as if I would be running the most risks, my friend" Farael shook his head in disbelief "If you had at least some money... earned as money is meant to be earned... I'd consider starting up a business with you, but until then we better keep on drinking and dancing, my friend"

[JennyHallu]

Losse smiled with real honesty, disarmingly, pleased that he was taking her seriously. "We're in the Shire, right? Pipeweed and potatoes, Farael! 'Tis said the King himself has a taste for produce from these hills...And as for money..."

Impulsively, she pulled the purse out from the folds of her skirts, emptying its contents out on the table with a loud clanging. She rapidly stretched her arms around the edges of the table, catching the coins that tried to roll away before they fell. They were an odd mixture of mints and denominations, and she quickly grabbed up about a third of the pile, and pulled it toward her in a smaller, neater stack. "These, I stole. The rest is honest. All I had saved when I left. I don't really know how much it would buy, but it's workable, Farael, it really is." She had the excitement of a child, looking up at him from her really rather small pile of coins. It was not an insignificant amount, but not enough, by itself, to jump-start any venture.

[piosenniel]

Cook lowered her rolling pin and craned her neck a bit to see who had spoken so plaintively. Unthinking, she moved nearer the door and pushed it open a little more with the tip of the rolling pin’s handle. She could see Tindomion, now. He looked as if the wind had all gone out of his sails and so sad that her heart went out to him.

‘Here, here,’ she said, sitting down on the bed beside him. One hand instinctively went to rub his back sympathetically, as she had done for her boys when they were in a cheerless, despairing mood. ‘It can’t be bad as all that, now can it? Tell me what’s happened and perhaps we can sort it out together.’

She looked up toward where Teluyaviel and Emlin were standing and motioned them out of the room . . .

[Nogrod]

If this is a game, you should be very careful now. He’s clearly reading your parrying now, throwing the ball back... Well, let me see. But clearly he had no time for this nonsense. Why did he even pretend to have time for this? The giant was looking at him, staring with his eyes questionably. There was also honesty in this pillar of a man, even though it was clouded by much of pretence. He knew it. Why had he been running away from the truth that he would have to learn anyway, oneday? Or would a life led, without the knowledge of the ever recurring question of “why?”, be worth living at all? Would he be a happy senior to die in a bed, not knowing the answers to the questions that haunted him every night and day? This Grimhorn here, son of Grimgor, was his best chance ever to get at the bottom of these things!

Before his conscious mind had time to react, he heard himself uttering “Well, frankly...” There is no going back from here then... Well, let it go.

“Frankly put”, Rían said, taking a look at Grimhorn, sipping his ale to get some extra seconds to give his speech. His mind was going berserk, blood was pumping with record levels. Hope this doesn’t show, he managed to think, and then he was on it.

“Your father, Grimgor, burnt my house, when I was just a little kid. I remember his face. I can see the similarity between you, grin and all. Mostly the grin, and the overall stature. He would have killed us, if we hadn’t managed to escape. They were calling into the night-sky “kill those cretins!” and “one day I’ll have you hermit-fool!”. I heard them well, and I remember them. I’ll remember those voices even at my deathbed – Valar allowing me to have one...” Rían grinned a little, being all the more horrified about the words his lips had just poured out. He took another sip of the ale, trying to concentrate. But for no avail. His mind and mouth together had really decided to flood all the levees’ down. He would be talking now, and he could just not stop it. Everything from the years gone by, kept rolling in front of his eyes. He had no control anymore. All these years of hiding were coming to an end now. How will I stop this?, he inwardly screamed, but had no time to think about it. So he just saw and heard himself continuing:

“Your father hated people who did not stick to his ways, and as a “spiritual warden” of sorts, took the liberty of clearing the Beorningland of everything unclean, not-Beorninglike from his point of view. Your father hated my father, because my father followed the rituals and teachings of Greäw, the one who said to have gained his knowledge in a straight following from himself, Radagast the Brown! I know this is a heated issue, and after considering the sanity of all different claims, I’d just want to point out, that my father believed in what he said and did – and I saw the things he did!” Rían draw breath and leaned backwards. But as there were no immediate hit on his face, he managed to breath out again, and then go for his pint.

The dices have been rolled then... Now where's my pipe? I'll need another go with it! I'll have to come together now. Can't run loose with multiple selfs just now!

[Undómë]

Well, it felt very odd to be sitting there one the bed, being mothered by the Halfling. Still, strange at it was, it was comforting, too. Here, at least, was someone who wanted to listen to him.

Tindomion was in quite a peevish mood . . . feeling put upon on the one hand and dismissed on the other. His mother had bade him keep his younger sister safe on what was to have been their journey to new Ithilien and then return to sail West. An impossible task to be done, he fumed silently. Here they were, only halfway through the Shire and he had failed, miserably. And when he tried to speak with his sister of their mother’s expectations she only shook her head, ‘No’, at him, dismissing his concerns as silly, and shortsighted.

Mistress Bunce sat with her hands in her lap now, quiet, and waiting patiently for him to speak. Perhaps she might help him with his problem, he thought. Talk woman to woman with Telu, make her understand she was being quite foolish. He pursed his lips and slid his eyes sideways toward the Halfling.

‘It’s like this,’ he began, turning toward her and drawing his legs up onto the bed, so that he now sat cross-legged, elbow on knee and chin in hand. Tindo took in a breath and began to tell of how they’d left the havens at Telu’s request. She had it in her mind that she wished to see their kinfolk who had settled in new Ithilien one last time before she went West. And their mother and father, who had always doted on her allowed her to do so, giving the charge to Tindo that he was to watch over her, keep her safe, and bring her back directly. They would all then sail the straight way to Elvenhome.

‘The trouble,’ he went on, ‘began when we came to the Dragon. Oh not to say this is an iniquitous place in itself. But it is an exciting one, with many sorts of peoples, coming and going. And my sister, I fear, became more entangled with some of the . . . well, less than respectable ones.’

He shook his head as he explained her ‘friendship’ with a certain roguish sort of fellow . . . one ‘Farael’. And he thought he had gotten that cleared away with her, when some upstart Elf of suspect lineage, that one who traveled about with the players group, had come nosing about. ‘He’s a very bad influence on her . . . and now I’m afraid she been completely foolish!’


Tindo could see Mistress Bunce looking at him to go on. He couldn’t quite tell if she was in agreement with him or not, as yet, but he thought his next revelation might just clinch it. ‘She’s only known him for less than a day,’ he said, his brows raised as he shook his head. ‘And now she tells me they wish to be wed.’

[Firefoot]

Lily smiled – a genuine one, now, not one of the mask-like ones she had been putting on. “You’re quite welcome, although I thank you as well, Gróin. I have enjoyed your company very much tonight. And… if I do not see you again tomorrow, good luck to you. I hope that you find your love.” And after a few more brief words, they parted.

Alone now and rather at a loss, Lily wandered over to one of the refreshments tables for a glass of cool cider. Then she found an out of the way corner of the party to figure out what to do next. Her options were hopelessly limited: talk directly to Posco (utterly out of the question), talk to Marcho (better, but not much), talk to no one and hope that help came her way (pleasant, but entirely unlikely), or leave (rendering her ride here entirely pointless). Given her options, it seemed that she would eventually have to talk to Marcho and she resolved that if no solution to her problems had been found by the next morning, then she would. She had no need for haste just yet.

But in the meanwhile, she did need something to do, and her thoughts drifted to what Posco was doing inside the inn. He had been in there for quite some time, doing what? Just sitting there? Or had they perhaps gotten a room for some reason rather than staying with his aunt? That could difficult matters. She decided to find out and walked up to the side of the inn, finding a window which she was fairly certain was located in the common room. She peaked inside, hoping desperately that Posco would not be facing this way. At first, she did not see anyone at all, but slowly a pair of figures came into focus. Mussed hair, rather withdrawn position – yes, the one facing away from her was Posco. But who was he with? He looked familiar… Blanco? Was that even possible? Her hopes skyrocketed. If she could talk with him alone, she would surely get the truth, and she did not think that he would turn around and tell Posco.

In her excitement, she forgot momentarily how visible she would be to him, and realized presently that in those few moments the gaze of the one she thought was Blanco seemed to have turned toward her window. She froze, then darted out of the window. Had he seen her – recognized her? Don’t tell him, don’t tell him, come talk to me instead, she silently commanded. She slipped away from the window and returned to her previous spot in the shadows. She would have to wait and see what he would do – if he had even seen her at all. Otherwise… she would have to think of a new plan.

[Farael]

Farael looked at Losse's money and quickly calculated about how much there was in there. "I'm sorry Losse, it is really an interesting sum, but it will not be enough. Not even if we add what I carry about with me. I have no horse nor anything but my tired back to carry along the merchandise, so whatever we decided to buy, we'd need also a horse to carry it. We don't have enough money. Unless..."

He looked around, a mischievous grin starting to form on his face "Unless we find ourselves another partner." He turned around and winked at Losse "If you think you can really help me negotiate deals with other merchants, we might as well get started now. Let's go up to someone -anyone- who looks wealthy enough and convince them to loan us some money." Farael offered his hand to the thief-now-hopefully-honest-partner "What do you say, my friend?"

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"And so we journeyed on," Fáinu continued at last, "the lands to the north were traitorous to say the least. The closer the Mountains came, the worse the land was, steeper climbs, deeper pits and fell creatures prowled the land. I would not like to think what they were, probably the remnants of Sauron's servants, wandering the wild and seeking any prey they can."

Cree's eyes flashed and she looked Fáinu in the eyes. Avalon fluttered in the silence and pecked Fáinu's arm until he spoke on. "There was one creature we came across." he said hesitantly, "I could not possible describe its horror. During the night of the fourth day from Esgaroth, we camped high in a mountain in a cave to shield us from the winds. They were strangely high and full of fell voices. I was on watch at around midnight when I heard something moving in the rocks. Turning around I roused Kili and Fundin, telling them to bring their axes. I looked above our cave entrance and saw nothing; Fundin went west down the track while Kili went east and upwards.

"The next we knew was there was a crash of stones from the east. Fundin and I went to investigate and found Kili hanging over the edge of the path, his axe stuck in the rock with his hands tightly holding the grip. We pulled him up and he instantly ran down towards the cave where we heard the sounds of growling and the drawing of a sword. When we came there we saw... something."

The Elf shook his head and drew a small knife hilt from his pack and placed it on the table with a clunk. There were remnants of the guard and blade, but they appeared burned and black as if it had been put in molten rock. Cree turned away and closed her eyes as the memories came flooding back with fresh ferocity.

"We saw a great, wolf-like thing that was coated, head to tale, in strange armour, bearing the symbol of a Dragon skull on its brow. Its face was not like the face of a usual wolf, indeed, it seemed to have very little flesh and its own skull could be spied in places. The creature snarled and slashed its claws at Cree. So, the three of us rushed forth, swords drawn and hearts ablaze. The beast turned and flew at my throat, but it was stricken down by a blow from Fundin's axe, the armour proved sturdy enough to leave the creature with naught but a bruise. Cree stabbed her sword at the back of the creature, but it turned and bit her blade and would not let go.

"Seeing this, I drew the knife and leaped forth, driving it into the unprotected belly of the beast. I stepped back as it writhed in pain and anguish. Then it leaped upon me and took the knife in its teeth and ran from the place, howling and screeching." Avalon peered at the knife, a little confused and baffled. So you hunted the beast and caught it? she thought. "After that little adventure, we decided to move on as soon as possible, for other creatures may have been roaming those parts, unbeknown to us.

"We eventually came to the Grey Mountains themselves. And a most terrible ordeal awaited us there also..."

[JennyHallu]

Losse shook his hand with a sunny grin that quickly turned to a scowl. "It would be easier to just 'borrow' the money," she grumbled, half to herself. "Not to mention the horse...but you'll never agree to that, will you?" A warning look on Farael's face was all the answer she needed, and she quickly threw up her hands, protesting. "Fine! fine! I'll be good. But it won't be as fast, and it won't be as much fun."

She scooped up her money, slipping it deftly back into her purse and tying it to her belt with the same intricate knot Farael had used earlier. "But another partner means splitting the returns yet another direction." She pouted prettily for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. She wondered what he would do, later, probably much later, when he found out she had never had any intention of giving up her hobby...completely. I'll have to keep my hand in, or I'll lose the skills...and who knows when it might come in handy?

"What about that Elvish friend of yours? She's got plenty, I know, but all her folk are leaving, aren't they? Off into the West and such, like in the old stories. She won't have need of it in the Uttermost West, will she now? Maybe she'd be willing to help us, in honor of your friendship and memory and all that, and if she would, well, she'll have no need of a successful business or an Inn in Gondor, will she? Do you think it's worth asking her?" She paused momentarily, remembering the seeming romance between the two, and wondered if she'd had a good idea or not...but pushed the thought aside. This was the best she could come up with.

[Farael]

Farael almost choked on his drink "Teluyaviel? Well, that is completely out of the question!" Or was it? Losse had a good point saying that she might not need all the money. She was an elf, he was a man. She had found another elf, he was talking to Losse. Ok, she had gotten a better deal than him as the elf was clearly not a thief, but at least Losse was good company.

"Well, I guess we could ask her..." Farael conceded "But no trickery with her, she is a honest woman and I would feel bad telling her anything less than the truth." He looked sternly into Losse's eyes "And no, we are not 'borrowing' even a copper coin from the dark lands while I am your partner"

[Dimturiel]

It was evening when Ravennar finally reached the inn. Tired as he was, he decided to stop, for the night, at least. He did not see any reason why he should stay more, the Shire was not his final destination. At first he stopped short in front of the inn, looking arround him, a bewildered expression written on his young face. The loud laughter, the singing and the dancing seemed to have hit him as bright light would hit one that has been in the darkness for a long time. He had forgotten such things existed. So busy had he been with his own arrogance and his foolish desire to show the world what he was capable of that the simple pleasures of life and youth had been wiped out of his mind.They had no place among his schemes.

Coming back from his musings and realising what he must look like, standing like that, Ravennar shook himself and, with resolute steps, entered the inn and headed towards a table. After he had asked for a mug of ale he leaned back in his chair, gazing into space. No one that would have seen Ravennar then, would have thought that he was troubled by something. His face was calm, cold even, his blue eyes were expressionless. There was nothing in his looks that would show the rage that was inside him. He felt angry with fate, for making him what he was. How could he have been so foolish? How would they laugh now at home, he thought bitterly, if only they knew the plight in which he was. Ravennar, who wanted to prove to everyone that he was the mightiest in Dale, he that was so arrogant that he would not even have a companion for his journey, had almost failed his errand. First, he lost his horse and then he lost himself. And now he was somewhere he had never intended to go, having no notion on what he should do next. Yes, Ravennar said to himself, he had been a fool. And all because some rash words, spoken to him some time ago in a clear evening in an inn not too different from the one where he had stopped now.

[JennyHallu]

Losse smirked to see Farael's reaction to her suggestion, then sobered. "Relax, Farael, it can't be that bad. We'll just ask her, the worst that could happen is she says no. But I'm inclined to believe she's a generous soul. She just might. Do you know where she is?"

Losse rose and began walking briskly across the green to the Inn, stepping straight through the excited country dancers (And spinning and turning in her own brief accompaniment to them on her way through, to loud acclaim from the more tipsy and/or high-spirited dancers), obviously with the intention of going straight up to the Elven woman, whereever she found her, and asking her straightway. It didn't occur to her that it might be more tactful to wait until her companion was ready to ask her himself, or at least had quite made up his mind as to the wisdom of asking Teluviel for help altogether. Losse had an idea in her head, and she was following it where e'er it led, with rather single-minded determination.

[piosenniel]

Cook thought back to the only Elf that she had ever known well. And that one had been a strong-minded woman and sure of her own decisions to the oft-times consternation of her friends and the continued amusement and exasperation at times of her husband.

She looked at Tindomion and shook her head in sympathy. And a wicked smile played on her lips, thinking how his sister’s mettle had perhaps not had the chance to shine forth until now . . . and that it would be most likely entirely hopeless for him to think she would step back and be the malleable little sister he’d always seen her as.

Cook said nothing to deflate his hopes, only laughed, and clapped him on the back, saying she knew an Elven lady much like Teluyaviel and perhaps it would be best if he could manage to adjust his expectations of her.

‘Looks to me as if your sister’s come into her own, don’t you know. Can’t always be standing in your shadow, now can she. Wouldn’t you think she’d know her own mind best, despite what you and even your mother might think she ought to do?’

She eyed him as he gave her a look of complete incredulity. ‘She is your sister, after all. Don’t be such a stuffed shirt that you drive her away from you.’

[Huan]

Emlin leaned out the little window at the end of the hall and waved down to Talan and Gwyn, her twin brother. The two motioned for him to come down, miming that they were wanting to put on a little puppet play for the crowd and he was needed to play his pipe and sing. Rowan and Tolly were there, too, shaking their tambourines at him.

‘Come down with me,’ he said to Telu, taking her hands in his. ‘Come watch us perform! And if you wish,’ he said, lightly kissing the tips of her fingers, ‘you can join in with us.’

He saw her turn her head toward the closed door behind which her brother sat……..brooding, for all she knew. ‘Surely Mistress Bunce will sort him out a little. Come, please. I would have you at my side if you will.’ He stood up and reached out his hand, giving her his most disarming smile.

[Folwren]

Mirelle didn’t answer his inquiries immediately. He wasn’t altogether surprised. It was, after all, rather difficult to talk when you’re crying and you don’t want to be crying. Wren stopped crying herself and sat in silence, but now, when Mirelle didn’t answer, she crawled forward and put her little hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“It’s alright,” she said, in her young, childish voice. “Don’t cry. You’ll be alright here. Cook’s awfully nice. She let us stay. Do stop crying, please. I know why you might be sad. Our Mami and Papi just died recently. Did yours?”

Mirelle lifted her head and looked at Wren. Tim looked on, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Then he shook his head and went back down the ladder as quietly as possible, leaving the two girls to figure out their problems. He was going back to join the party. . .after first talking to the woman who still waited at the foot of the ladder.

“I think she’ll be alright,” he said, stepping down. Something nudged him in the back of his mind. “I say, I’m sorry for being short. She surprised me with her crying. I’m sure you could’ve helped. . .but I think Wren’s got it under control. Do you. . .um. . .do you have a horse I need to take care of? I’m the stableboy here and if you do. . .how long have you been here? Can I help you with anything maybe?”

[JennyHallu]

Lossë saw the Elven woman and her companion leaving the Inn and rejoining the party, and she rushed over to meet them, oblivious to Farael behind her. Teluviel's hands were nestled in Emlin's, and she was obviously happy to be there, which gave Lossë a brief rush of pity for poor Farael, though she shoved it away cheerfully with the thought that the Elf maiden would be better off with one of her own.

"M'Lady!" she called, flagging Telu and her companion down, and rushing to meet them before they were lost in the crowd and bustle. "Telu!"

She caught up to them, and pulled gently on Emlin's sleeve, and the couple turned around in surprise to face her. "My apologies for the manner of my greeting," she murmured, wondering what it was about Elves that sent her all formal. "But I have a proposition for the Lady, and I would present it as soon as I may, so that she might consider it. It concerns the futures of the man Farael and myself."

[Huan]

Emlin gave the woman an appraising look, his brow raised. A smile twitched on his lips for the briefest of moments. His fingers still entwined with Teluyaviel’s, he stepped forward just a bit, looking now to where the man stood, his grey eyes looking inquiringly at him and then back to the woman.

‘The futures of the man Farael and yourself . . . And why should Teluyaviel have concern for that? You do not seem in dire straits. Or have I missed something?’

[JennyHallu]

Losse gave a little half-bow in acknowledgement of Emlin's reasonable question. "My lord, our situation is by no means dire, but it is lacking in certain comforts, and we both have ambitions unlikely to be fulfilled. But Teluviel's future happiness and comfort seems assured," she said pointedly, her eyes on the couple's clasped hands. "What I would ask is really more of a business proposition."

"As the Lady is aware, Farael was robbed on his way here, and his business is trade. And I am under the constraints of enforced honesty, and my business is...well...the Lady will surely remember what my business is. Someday I would like it to be otherwise, and Farael would like his own ventures to repay his effort. We have determined together upon a plan which would allow us both to live our dreams--and we are missing but one thing to make it possible."

She paused, and when neither's manner seemed to suggest she stop, plunged into the meat of the matter. "In a word? Capital. Money is something we have only in short supply, and the Lady, and you, lord, also, if you are interested in the aid of one who would be a friend to you, have in abundance, at least compared to us." A breath--Losse had a bad habit of stringing long sentences together quickly enough she forgot to breath, when excited. "We propose a loan, enough to allow us to buy a horse and cart, and the goods to fill it. Terms of repayment to be settled in further discussion, be you interested. If you are intrigued, I would ask you to join us for a while, and say your thoughts on the matter."

She stopped, a little out of breath, and fixed her eager, youthful eyes hopefully upon the faces of the Elves, trying to read their reactions, hands wringing themselves nervously behind her back.

[Farael]

Farael had had no time to accept the idea that he'd be asking Teluyaviel for money and yet Losse was already on her way. He did his best to follow, but fell behind quickly. She seemed to glide effortlessly through the dancers while he felt like he was dragging himself, each step becoming harder to take.

He had lost Losse for a moment and he felt strangely relieved. Was it as good an idea as she made it sound? even though not as much as before, he was still under the effects of the good ale from the Shire. He hoped he would not regret his words later on, yet it seemed Losse was lost and he was free for the moment. To his dismay, Losse not only had not gotten lost but she had found Telu and her partner. Farael felt a sudden pang of jealousy, seeing them holding hands, but he silenced those thoughts.

Teluyaviel saw him approach and asked him a question he did not manage to hear. Farael was hoping Losse had just been making conversation as him and her had not had a chance yet to talk about exactly how much money they'd need. And there was no point in asking for more than what was necessary, nor it would be smart to ask for less than what they would need. He bowed towards the elves and apologised for missing Telu's question. "I see my -possibly- busines partner has found you before I did. I hope she has as good a nose for deals as she has for people" Farael grinned, trying to hide his discomfort "Would any of you mind telling me what you have discussed so far? we have an interesting offer to make you, should we be able to tempt you into listening to us, my elven friends"

[Undómë]

She has a rare and much practiced gift, Emlin. She is a master thief. thought Telu, coming to stand alongside Emlin. Her eyes twinkled merrily as she looked at the woman, noting with a smile that Losse had placed her hands behind her back. Nerves, she wondered. Or simply putting them out of temptation’s way?

‘Oh, Losse!’ she said, stepping close enough to touch the woman lightly on the arm. ‘Had my brother’s plans gone his way, there might have been no problem in making you a loan.’ She laughed, a silvery sound, like small bells caught in a sudden breeze. ‘But Emlin, here, has no great store of wealth.’ She nodded toward where the players were setting up their puppet stage and bringing out their drums and such instruments as would fill in between the dialog. She reached toward his belt from which hung his small silver pipe in a plain leather case. ‘Here is his wealth. That and his traveling companions.’

She touched the small purse that hung at her belt. ‘And I have only a few coins, and the hope of more quite lost to me now that I’ve crossed Tindomion’s wishes. Of course, you could approach Tindo, be you brave enough. Though I would not advise it. He is not overly fond of Men.’

Farael had come up in a rush to stand beside Losse. ‘She has asked us for a loan,' she said in reply to him. '. . . to accomplish your dream.’ She nodded as a sudden thought came to her. ‘It is a sudden dream, is it not?’ she asked. She laughed again. ‘But who am I to judge that?’ Her eyes darkened and grew more serious. ‘I have explained to her how our wealth has suddenly dwindled. Is there no other way your plans can be realized?’

Her brow wrinkled, she looked from one to the other. ‘What exactly are your plans, anyway? Travel about together, selling goods here and there . . . or . . .?’

And what plans have you for each other? she wondered to herself . . .

[Kath]

"Goodness, Astilwen, must you always have things your way?"

The sudden outburst shocked Astilwen for a moment and she wondered if she'd gone too far. Hoping she hadn't she simply gave another smile and to her relief Tilionwen returned it and began to dance.

It was perhaps lucky that those who had been throwing odd looks their way before had turned back to what they were doing as the first few moments of this new activity were not smooth. Astilwen was not used to dancing with anyone taller than herself, and so it took her a while to adapt to Tilionwen's movements. She tried to keep any cries of pain caused by the other womans foot landing on her own to herself, but was apparently unsuccessful as Tiliowen kept apologising. Eventually though they settled into a rhythm, and danced until exhaustion claimed them

The two women slowly made their way back to their seats, muscles protesting due to sudden overuse after such a lack of it. Astilwen noted though that Tiliowen was now smiling without reservation, and felt that a few sore spots were a small price to pay for such an achievement. Grabbing two glasses of water from a nearby table she gave one to a grateful Tiliowen who gulped it down. Astilwen followed suit and then relaxed into the chair.

"So, is there anything more you would like to do?"

"Nothing that involves me leaving this chair again!" Her friend cried out, looking terrified at the prospect.

"Don't worry, I've got my way once tonight," she replied with a sly grin, receiving a glare in answer, "It's your turn to choose."

[Witch_Queen]

Bad memories and joyous times...

Cree looked at Fáinu, the journey, the adventure seemed so long ago. She was glad to be back with Avalon, she was willing to admit to missing the white crow. Cree remembered everything that happened on the way to the dragon, but after the dragon had been slain, Cree's memory was a blank. Was what Fáinu said true, did the creature curse Cree? Cree remembered all to well the horror from the unexpected attack. She had been asleep but the unknown creature woke her. What sort of creature can bite clean through a blade?

Avalon looked at Cree, the bird could tell taht the elf was deep in thought. THe bird lifted her giant wings, flapping the appendages in the air. Cree felt a gush of wind hit her face. She snapped back to reality. "Are you okay?", Fáinu asked, but all Cree could do was nod her head in response. "Excuse me." Cree stood from her seat to go in search of something to wet he burning throat. After acquiring a mug of ale Cree went back to her friends. Cree placed her mug on the table before sitting back down.

"Avalon, I wished you would've joined us but indeed the journey was long and dagerous. The dwarves that joined us were wonderful company. Every night it seemed as if each dwarf had a new story to tell. Oh I was lucky enough to hear one of Fáinu's stories, he always had a good story to tell when we were younger. The closer we got to the dragon the more Fáinu's hand hurt him." Cree knew that Fáinu's burn some how connected him with the dragon. Cree's mind wandered back to the other nights when the group had almost lost their lives. She couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if she had not been on the journey with Fáinu. What would have changed?

[Hookbill the Goomba]

The memory of past things weighed heavy on the heart of Fáinu as he sat there in the Inn; drinking ale he thought he'd never taste again. Cree stared him in the eyes and all the more, the 'adventure' seemed closer than ever and full of the bitterness he could recall. The unusual beast had left its mark on the minds of all the travellers, Cree not the least.

Avalon seemed to dance upon the table, unnerved, sensing something more was to be said, almost impatient to hear the rest of the tale. "They were a terrible climb, the Grey Mountains," continued Fáinu, "Heartache awaited us, and we knew it well. Kili and Fundin talked endlessly of how they wished to see the Dragon's gold. They had always known the tales of Smaug the terrible and his horde, only hoping that they could have a share in what was in this Dragon's den.


"We girded ourselves and travelled along a stony path that wound around the mountain. The path was old and broken, we all had to take careful steps so not to risk tripping on lose rocks a paving. Kili had the most trouble in this area, as his feet were small and short, his beard got very dusty and he became irritated.
"Oh dash and blast it,” he cried throwing his pack on the floor, “can we not rest a little, we have been walking for nearly an hour.” I told him that we had to carry on, regardless of the terrible state of the path.
Soon we came to some nearly vertical steps. The wind howled around like a cruel bird, no offence Avalon, almost blowing us off at points. We dug into the stone with knives to stop from falling. Fundin and Kili were the only ones who had trouble climbing this; Elves can climb naturally, especially trees and mountains.

"Snow began to fall as we found ourselves higher than ever. At fist it was light and I at least found it bearable. Soon it became a blizzard; lumps of snow would crash into our faces and we would stumble around like blind mice in an earthquake. Cree, who took up the rear, often seemed to be wading in the snow as it got neck deep. I trudged through the snow covering my eyes with anything, my cloak proved the best for this. However this blocked my vision and I found myself on the edge of the path. So I moved inwards whenever I saw the edge, but still it was unnerving.

"We eventually came to a high peak that overlooked the lands north of the Grey Mountains. The Snow clouds were below us and we could not see anything, but there was a black cloud hovering, all too near to us. We found a cave and camped for the night, knowing that in the next few days, we would probably meet the Dragon and our fate. The cave was warm at least, but I not like that, the burns on the walls told us that the Dragon had been there. We found some bones on the floor.

"Kili looked and confirmed that they were Dwarves. He and Fundin buried the bones in the Dwarf manner, refusing to take any of the weapons that they had been found with. Even if they were made of Gold. 'A Dwarf will keep his treasure,' they said, 'even in death, we must honour that.'"

The mention of the bones had unnerved Cree, it was never pleasant to see death, but that had been the biggest reminder that they would very probably have died in the fight against the Dragon. Avalon seemed to have settled down and was sat eating some cram that Fáinu had given her. The cram the Dale men made was second to none.

"So we awoke the next morning," the Elf continued, "and found that they snow had cleared. But the cave entrance was blocked slightly by snow and fallen rock. It took us a while to move it, but Dwarves are hardy folk. We looked down, down into the Dragon Pit that lay before us. We could see a wide basin, black as cole, riddled with cracks and pits, all of which seemed to give out smog that melted the snow. We could see Orcs down there. There were even some Trolls." Avalon coughed and stood up again. "Yes, Trolls. But no Dragon. It was probably asleep, or pretending to be. We girded ourselves and made our way down towards it. The Dwarves said there would probably be a day’s march before we got there. That was little comfort.

"As we marched, a loud roar was heard, like a hurricane filled with fire. A Bright flame leaped up into the air. I flung myself on the ground, as the burn on m hand seemed to grow in agony. Then we saw it..."