The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Kath]

Astilwen had been pleased to note that the woman stayed with her at the table and even seemed to have cheered up a little. She knew she'd been pretty insistent at first but she just hated to see anyone upset, and rather than ask them about it and send them into further sadness, getting them up and about often seemed to do the trick.

Behind the general babble she heard a question directed at her, and stopped filling her plate for a moment to answer it.

"So, what's your name, anyway?"

"I'm Astilwen. Odd name for a hobbit I know but I'm used to it now! And you?"

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Ciro walked through the shadows of the dimly-lit corridor. Sadness was etched on his face, but as yet no-one in the Inn knew why. He had met a hidden stranger by a back door of the building, and the man brought tidings which concerned Ciro deeply. He had decided to leave.

He walked to the front door and noticed a small group of folk arriving at the Inn for the party. Ciro halted in front of the door to the bar, which was open, as the group obstructed his exit. At this moment, Penn caught his eye and waved him over. She looked quite lonesome. All Ciro could do, though, was shake his head.

Penn trotted over and, pushing through the crowd at the door, asked Ciro what was wrong. "After all, there's going to be a lovely party, tonight."

Ciro looked at her carefully. "I have to go, miss" he said. "It's not safe for me to stay here. I'm sorry I couldn't speak longer with you. Do tell the Dwarves that it was a pleasure to speak with them, won't you? They'll understand."

"Don't leave!" cried Penn. But Ciro had made up his mind. His plans had gone awry. The Southern Man was in great peril and could in no way meet Ciro at the Green Dragon. The only people who would enquire about Ciro in this land now would be enemies.

He tipped his hat toward Penn, opened the front door, and strode off.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"I'm Astilwen. Odd name for a hobbit I know but I'm used to it now! And you?"


Ariane paused where she was examining various interesting looking sweets, the music drilling its way to loop in her head, over and over again as it carried on playing in the background, but also staying in her mind in one particular little point. "Ariane. Ariane Calthye." She shrugged. "I'm really not certain of where it came from, and a few have remarked to its tone."

She found the hobbit to be a most remarkable person, a bit like she might have ended up had she been about two feet shorter, and had a chance to grow up properly, in a much different manner. Were all short people stereotyped to be cheerful, Ariane wondered to herself? There had been a time when she had been a cheerful person who couldn't be matched for the melodrama, salient and proud of it.

Perhaps Elachi had changed her, then...

But she shook it aside. Her husband wasn't there (though some part of her mind wished he was, if only to see if he'd hit his head on the doorway), and she had someone to talk to. Someone who most certainly was not concerned about the issues in her reality. Someone who might actually hold a relatively sane conversation with her, and not care about her height, for that matter. She smiled to herself. That was a rareity.

[Kath]

"Ariane. Ariane Calthye. I'm really not certain of where it came from, and a few have remarked to its tone."

After she'd said this the woman seemed to wander off into thought for a few moments. Astilwen let her be as she finished piling her plate and, noting that her new companion seemed to have enough also, began to make her way out of the crowd.

"Well I think Ariane is a very pretty name whether it has a story behind it or not. And at least it fits you. You find people with the strangest names sometimes, often long and difficult ones that with the best will in the world you just can't remember!"

She spoke as she moved, causing Ariane to follow close behind her so she could catch the words above the noise. This had the added benefit of people moving for Astilwen, who was smaller than many hobbits, and often had trouble getting through crowds. The companionship of someone a little taller than most of those around was helpful indeed. Finally out of the mass of bodies she turned to Ariane.

"So, shall we find a table?"

[Eowyn Skywalker]

"So, shall we find a table?"

Wading through the torrent of small bodies, and of course those who were far taller than Ariane herself, being as she was petite for a human being. Having followed tightly behind the hobbit (who seemed as if she were only a child in comparation to herself), she was able to catch the words over the clamor. "Certainly." She stood up on her tiptoes for a moment. "I think there's a free one over there, if you'd like."

She didn't wait for much of a reply, though, taking the inventive to menuver through the other sentients crowding the inn well enough, and placed her plate down on a fairly nearby and at the moment empty table. It wasn't that hard to get through, and she hoped that Astilwen was able to follow after without much difficulty. Ariane knew all too well what it was like to be the short one out. At least she's pronouncing my name correctly, she thought wryly, and sat down on the oaken chairs surrounding the wood table, gazing for a moment at the grain.

A strange urge drew her gaze upright for a moment and to the roof. There weren't tiles, but she hadn't expected there to be, anyway.

[Huan]

Emlin kept his face neutral as Teluyaviel’s brother approached. 'Tindo', she had called him. But Emlin knew that was not his full name, and from the look on the man’s face he dared not use it.

‘Greetings, good Sir,’ he said in as courteous a manner as he could. ‘Emlin, late of Lindon at your service.’ Though by rights, his own age should take preference in who showed the first respect to whom. ‘I have just met your charming sister. She tells me you are from Eryn Lasgalen.’ He smiled as winningly as he knew. ‘I had many acquaintances there in my younger days. Though now,’ he said with a regretful sigh, ‘most of them have sailed West.’

He shook off the melancholy the remembrance of friends gone had brought on and smiled again. ‘I understand that you and Teluyaviel are traveling one last time before you, too, sail from the Havens.’

[Farael]

Farael shook his head and chuckled "well, unless you can tell one person's gold from another's, I don't think I will be able to recognize much. I was carrying most of my things with me at the time and when I came back they had taken the gold and the few other valuable possesions we had. We were going to buy some of the pipe weed. I've heard they have very good weed for pipes in The Shire, and so had my father when he sent me along with other merchants to secure a deal. They decided to turn back, I decided to pull forward, hoping to find those bandits and give them what they deserve. I have spent two years in the army of Gondor, but I never saw combat and I felt restless and anxious. But now.... now I feel like I could stay at this Inn for a whole year and feel quite content." With a smile, Farael helped himself to some potatoes and after having a small taste, he took a big bite. "Eez 're egg-helent!!!!" he said, his mouth too full of potatoe.

Looking up to where he had last seen Telu, he also saw her brother and looked away, towards the lanter-lit trees and the star-lit sky. "Yes... life is good here, and full of more surprises than what one would expect. After all, war and victory are not the only ways a man can better himself"

[Arry]

‘She’s over there having a pint, boyo. Go join her.’ Tomlin nudged Gil with his violin bow, his chin going up to point at the cask where Rowan stood. ‘We can’t have our singer moping and stewing over some pretty little git now, can we.’

Fallon and Ferrin snickered in the background. Just out of sight of Gil, Ferrin put his hand inside his tunic and beat it against his chest, as if his heart were about to burst through the material. ‘We had a bet on remember . . .?’ asked Fallon. ‘That when the darling of all the lasses fell, he’d fall hard.’ He cocked his head toward Gil whose hands were on his hips, eyes fixed on the floor, as he listened to Tomlin speak with him.

‘Go on, Gil,’ Tomlin urged him again. ‘Tis true,’ chimed in Fallon, drawing near. ‘Go on now. Be like the rest of us poor sots in love. Make a fool of yourself with a pretty girl.’ He tapped Gil with his instrument. ‘We’ll play some jigs and reels and get people dancing. Go on, see to your little darlin’.’