The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Caunwaithon]

It is nightime outside, and a single rider trots along a steady path, trees backing him on all sides. The man is a Rohirrim, but he is not lost in these parts, he has not wandered to the Shire by accident. The young man wears a leather and steel armor, with chain mail underneath. On his head sits a black horsehair crest, the symbol of an Outrider of Rohan. In his right hand, held up high, is a six foot ashen spear, black with a shining wrought iron steel tip.

The single rider comes to the Green Dragon inn. He dismounts amidts crowds of people and several exchange glances at the newcomer. There must be a party outside, for that matter. He does not bother to tie up his starkly black horse, but instead, he pats it on the neck, whispering ridddemarken into it's ear.

"Secht le beltom, no flenta."

The young man smiles, and the horse lies down, nieghing and brushing up against the leg of his master.



The door of the tavern booms loudly open, hitting the wall and rebounding. A large man , made even larger by the leather and steel armor he is wearing, fills the room with a hearty laughter, and sets an ashen spear down on the opposite side of the door. I am this man, and this is my story. There is no need to carry a weapon in here, I have nothing to fear from this place. I am from good times, of hearty drinks and glorious battle. I remove my steel helm, coarse horsehair crest scratching the back of my neck, and revealing my long, straight dirty blond hair that has been tucked into my helm. Making my way through the inn, I greet all those who come across my path, leaving a wake of smiles and laughter. But there seems to be few people here, they must all be outside. No matter. I will get an ale, and see what happens. I hit my knee against something, and that something yelps, in a deep, guttural voice. I have nearly tripped over an old acquaintince, a dwarve of the Fundin clan. He seems to be in a foul mood....I decide to cheer up the firey red-haired dwarve.

"Ah, my old friend Harod! What troubles you in these glad times? The lord of shadow is no more!"

The dwarve looks at the floor, then look back up into my eyes.

"Aye, horse lord, the evil sauron may be gone, but his minions still live on. Evil still infests all lands, and we dwarves have still not reclaimed Moria...."

I clap him on the shoulder, smiling, showing rows of white teeth.

"My friend, if there was no evil, we would have no pay! And without pay, how would we pay for our ale?"

The dwarve's gaze darts up, and booming laughter comes forth from his beard.

"Aye laddy, that you are correct!"

I turn from my friend, looking at the bar. I see no Bartender, so I just loudly proclaim,

"Barkeep, an ale for I and one for my dwarven companion! He is thirsty and travel weary!"

A beautiful woman comes up from above the bar surface, hands on her hips. A lock of golden hair is amiss from the rest going across her forehead and over one eye. The rest is brought back in a ponytail. Her skin is only very lightly tanned, with a scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and her cheeks. But her eyes....large emeralds, sparkling in radiance and contrasting with her earth-toned dress. This is a maiden of Rohan, the land of my birth. What is she doing all the way in the shire? I have an excuse, I am an outrider of Rohan, but....

The woman brings me back from my daydream.

"Excuse me? Sir...."

I smile nervously, reminding my self all too wearily of my young age. I am barely 19 years of age, this woman cannot be interested in such a young one. But she seems to be the same age...

"I was simply struck by your beauty, my lady..."

She laughs, and rolls her eyes.

"You are the fourth one to say that today, and I know I don't look "beautiful" right now. I've been working for nearly a fortnight. So don't think you can trick me, even if you are an Outrider."

She must have some knowledge of us...she could tell by my black horsehair crest. This is indeed a woman of rohan. I smile at the woman, and she turns to get the ale.

"A'right, Horsemaster. Two 'ales comin' up."

I turn back to my dwarven friend still smiling, and remove my hand from his shoulder, turning to grasp the two ales being handed to me. In the corner of me eye, in the darkest shadow of the room, I see a Ranger, who seems to suck the very light out from around him....

Who is this shadow man?

My eyes fixed upon the ranger, I grasp the two stiens and ask the barkeep of the man, while stroking the short dirty blond beard that begins at my ears, and ends at the bottom of my chin, going over my lip.

"My lady, who is that man?"

The woman's congenial look vanishes from her face, the diamond spark goes out of her eyes, and she speaks in a hushed tone.

"That'll be one of them rangers....dangerous folk if you ask me. That one just walked in without sayin'a word, and sat right down."

I hand Harod's stien to him, which he immediatley starts gulping, and speak again, eyes still fixed on the man.

"One more ale for a friend I have not met yet."

The woman smiles, and winks at me. Maybe it was just sarcasm in her voice before....

I turn back and look at the ranger, and other thoughts vanish from my mind. That man is either a godsend, or pure evil.

"Here you go, young Outrider."

She tops off a mug and places it in my hand, caressingly, I note.

I need to stop thinking of her. I have a job to do. This man might have information.

I begin to walk toward the Ranger's table. His eyes are fixed on.....

Nothing.

I have only seen that look in the eyes of men who have seen the horrors of battle, and seen their comrades go down. I come upon the man, and nudge him with a stien, grinning.

"Hello there, freind. Got room for one more?"