The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Hookbill the Goomba]

As the mid morning sun shone down on the path leading to By-water and The Green Dragon, many Hobbit folk wandered too and fro on business of their own. with the patter of feet and the noise of every-day Shire life, no one even gave the strange man a second glance. Hobbits had become used to big folk visiting the Dragon over the last years and it was of no surprise to them. That's not to say they were all entirely happy about it, but they merely fixed some with a stern look, or just plain ignored them.

Quietly and semi-casually, a short and yet broad man walked down the dusty road and saw the swinging sigh of The Green Dragon as it squeaked and rattled. A Bird fluttered over-head carrying something in his beak, it was a crow and it had an ill-favoured look about it.

The Man's name was Seleven, and he was a Gondorian. Or at least, so he claimed. He was not particularly magnificent at fighting or at anything really. He had shoulder length hair that was dark and filthy, he also had a small stubble that seemed to have things stuck in it. He was dressed in a green tunic with a dark blue hooded cloak under which was his pack. He had a short sword and a pair of knives that were strapped about his waist. He also had immense black boots and a long white scarf that came down to his belt.

The Crow fluttered down and placed the paper on the floor in front of the Green Dragon Door with a squawk. It eyes him with a frustration in its eye as well as a look of having better things to do with his time. With a sigh, Seleven took some bread from his pack and fed the bird before taking the paper. The bird then flew off into the distance, all the time Seleven watch it until only his eyes, or elven eyes, could see. Then it passed from his sight and he opened the door to the Dragon.

The first thing that hit him, almost literally, was the odd smell that burst out of the door upon opening. A mixture of cooked breakfasts, pipe weed and ale all mixed into one fell blast of air trying desperately to escape the small Inn. The Hobbits, elves, men and even Dwarves that were all inside the small place were all laughing and making a joyful noise.

Seleven coughed and moved to the bar to get a drink. He spoke in his Gondorian accent, rich with elements of Elvish and even the husky speak of Dwarves could be detected by the keen eared. He quietly sat himself down on a chair after receiving his drink and inspected the piece of paper.