The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[piosenniel]

It's evening in the Shire. The fire is burning merrily in the Inn's fireplace; supper is being served; and the Inn patrons are looking forward to the evening's entertainment of:

poetry

songs

and stories . . . .

[Firefoot]

"We all seem to enjoy the company of each other, and so perhaps in the morning we could do something exciting together. What say you?" asked Blanco, smiling. Lily hesitated. She didn't want to sound rude, but she really did want to go on her ride tomorrow morning with Posco and Posco only.

"Posco and I were, ah, planning on going on a ride together in the morning," said Lily, blushing a bit but smiling in anticipation of their ride. "So, how about tomorrow afternoon instead?" she asked. "I have no plans for then." She hoped that it came across to the others as she hoped: polite and willing to spend time with the others, yet firm on the fact that she and Posco would be riding alone. She saw Posco glance at her with a slight smile on his face, and she grinned happily back at him.

Then one thought dampened her spirits: Iadarion had been invited to come along as well. She wanted to spend no more time with him than was absolutely necessary. But nothing was certain. Maybe he wouldn't even want to come with them. Oh well, she thought. If he comes, he comes, and I'll just try to stay away from him. Closer to Posco perhaps...? She tried not to look at Posco, but at Blanco instead, since it had after all been his idea. "What did you have in mind?" she asked him.

[CaptainofDespair]

The sun had just begun its journey into the East. The evening sky was unfolding in vibrant purples and pinks. It was starting to grow late. But how could Ulrath tell? He had been wandering from place to place for some time now, forced on only by maddening visions. Time was not something he kept track of anymore, only where he was to go next. But now, he had made his way to the Shire, a place he knew not of. And now, he was wearily standing at the entrance to the Green Dragon. He could hear music and laughter emananting from within. These were the sounds of happiness and companionship, something he had not felt for many years.

With his mind and body both in shambles, it took him for what seemed like an eternity to gather the strength necessary to push open the wooden door. Finally he did manage such a feat, and he pushed through the barrier that stood between him, and some semblance of peace, but he struggled to keep it from forcing him back. As he staggered his way into the inn, he felt a rush of the soothing atmosphere. He took notice of the patrons, but he kept his distance. Slowly, he made his way to the corner of the bar, and found himself an empty table to take the burden of his mind off of him. He quickly let his armored body fall into a chair.

Ulrath's Numenorean decent was obvious in his stature alone. He stood a good head taller than most men, and was quickly identified in crowds. His face had been fair, but now, his years of wandering had taken its toll. His face was marred by bruises and a few cuts running down his face. His blonde hair was unkempt, and was matted from his use of a helm. Few of the other patrons took little heed of him, and the continued to chat await the evening meal. He was left alone, to brood in his shadowed corner of the inn.

[Saraphim]

Myrddin was settled comfortably in her seat when she noticed that others had begun to look inquisitivly at her. One in particular caught her eye, and she made up her mind to talk to him.

The man at the bar seemed not to notice her arrival, but she sat down next to him and offered him her hand.

"Greetings, sir. I noted your glance, and as we are both dining alone, I suppose it would be prudent to keep each other company." A smile crossed her face as she took in his travel-stained garments.

Myrddin awaited his answer.

[CaptainofDespair]

Lifting his weather-beaten face from his hands, Ulrath gazed at this newcomer. As he watched a smile cross her lips, he was comforted. The fog that clouded his mind seemed to dissipate, if only for a little while. He was not used to being offered company. When he would normally travel to a new town, he was met with disdain and scorn. This simple action of a smile was a welcome sight to him.

"Greetings Milady." He paused for a moment. "You are welcome to stay here and dine with me. It has been a very long while since I have been in the company of another."

Ulrath drew aside his tattered and stained cloak, to reveal a small, leather pouch. Unclasping this, he laid it on the table. His experience with well-established inns and taverns was minimal, so he tried to be less of the uncultured wanderer that he had become. He sat back in his chair, hoping someone would see his bag of coins, and bring him the food and drink he desired. He then turned his attention back to his new comrade, and decided to engage her in some conversation.

"I am sorry, but I do not believe you told me your name. For what it may be worth, I am Ulrath. I am but a traveler, one who who has come many leagues, seeking peace of mind."

[piosenniel]

~*~ Notice of New RPG Open ~*~

Fordim Hedgethistle has a new game coming open for play soon - Land of Darkness.

The Discussion Thread is now OPEN to take on players.

See you there!

~*~ Pio, Game Moderator

[Nurumaiel]

Blanco's face fell and he looked at Posco, a dread little thought wavering on his mind. Was it Posco who had asked her to go riding with him? And the way the two of them had looked at each other, smiling. He suddenly felt jealousy surge up within him as he looked at his brother. So that was why Lily would rarely look at him. She loved Posco! It was an absurd notion, he realized in the furthest reaches of his mind. Lily had only just met Posco and if she cared for him that way at all she was only just falling in love. But Blanco did not care for this intelligence. He hated Posco suddenly with a fierce hatred, but swelling up to match that hatred was his natural good-natured personality and his love for his twin. Feeling dizzy suddenly, he excused himself and slipped away to battle with his feelings alone.

Posco barely noticed the absence of his brother, for he had fallen into anticipating the ride on the morrow. He would have to go to his aunt's house to fetch his pony, but perhaps Lily would accompany him. No. His face darkened a bit. He would not wish her to meet his aunt. His aunt would speak sharply to her and give those scornful, disapproving looks. "Lily," he said, turning to her, "my pony is at my aunt's house and I wondered if you would mind waiting here tomorrow morning for me to come back. I... I don't think you'd like my aunt very much." He hurried on without looking at her. "What do you say to leaving tomorrow after breakfast?"

[Sapphire_Flame]

The woman, apparently called Peony, whom Takua had been watching was sitting by a dwarf and looking extraordinarily bored. Takua took another swig of her ale. She knew dwarves were as reknowned for their conversation skills as orcs were for their kindness.

In a rare show of pity, Takua managed to catch the woman's eye and beckon her over. The woman gave a perplexed blink, then rose and walked over to sit beside Takua.

"You seemed bored," Takua commented with a wry smile. "And personally, I don't blame you. I thought you could use some real conversation." Her usually somber features brightened momentarily. "I am called Takua. What of yourself?"

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman eyed the armoured man sitting in the corner warily as she passed him, and quickly scanned him over with practised eyes. A warrior, there was no doubt of that, but one who seemed to have been recently in the midst of battle. A strange thing indeed, but to say he was weary and travel-stained would be a euphemism - Aman changed her course and started to move towards him, to see whether she could help.

"Excuse me..." a timid voice sounded from behind, but Aman barely noticed as a customer in front also seized her attention, a noisy hobbit with a very red nose.

"Waitress, two pints of ale!" he bellowed in her face arrogantly as she leant down to retrieve a few glasses, his eyes wandering. She straightened up and treated him with an irritated look.

"I'd like to..uh, I would like a room for the night, um, please, miss..." The timid voice sounded again from behind, and Aman started to turn.

"Me first, waitress!" The drunk hobbit reminded her loudly as she did so.

"I apologise for my husband, miz - Balco, I think you've had enough!" A harrassed looking hobbit woman apologised to Aman then reprimanded her husband.

"Excuse me..."

"Bah, hush your noise, woman!"

"I'm warning you Balco..." the woman's voice had a dangerous edge to it. Her husband looked a little sheepish despite himself and muttered a resentful apology, retrieving his coat from the back of his chair and shrugging it on. His little wife supported him with practised ease as he staggered unsteadily, and rolled her eyes at Aman, who grinned back. Bidding them a brief goodnight, the Innkeeper finally turned to the holder of the timid voice behind her, spinning around to face a gawky, scruffy youth, who had one finger poised to tap her shoulder again. He blushed vividly as she turned to him, stammering an apology for interrupting her.

Aman waved the apology aside and smiled kindly at him, worried he might damage himself if he got any more nervous. "Sorry, sir, I was slightly preoccupied." It seems there is a conspiracy to stop me from reaching the warrior... she mused. Glancing over for a split second at the blonde, rugged soldier in the corner, she saw Myrddin, the horserider from earlier, had come to sit with him and was glad, for some inexplicable reason. Turning back to the youth once more, she smiled openly. "Was it a drink or food you wanted, or a room?" she inquired, gently manipulating him onto a barstool.

[Saraphim]

"Greetings Milady." He paused for a moment. "You are welcome to stay here and dine with me. It has been a very long while since I have been in the company of another."

Myrddin's smile widened as her hand was excepted.

"It has been a long while for me as well." she said, happy to finally be speaking to someone after weeks on the road with only her horse for company.

"I am sorry, but I do not believe you told me your name. For what it may be worth, I am Ulrath. I am but a traveler, one who who has come many leagues, seeking peace of mind."

"I apologize! I had forgotten my manners. I am Myrddin, and likewise a traveler. If you seek peace of mind, I cannot think of a better place than this land." Myrddin said, happy with her new aquaintance, "Already I have begun to drop the worries I carry with me, if only for a little while. But please, tell me your tale, for I can see that it is far more intersting than mine."

[Firefoot]

Lily wondered briefly why Posco did not want her to meet his aunt. Was there something wrong with her or something? But she didn't dwell on it long; there were much more important things to think about.

"That will be fine," said Lily. "I will wait for you outside the stables, then, after breakfast." There was so much more that she wanted to say; how much she was looking forward to the ride, and more importantly, how much she was beginning to care for him. However, she said nothing of it, for she did not know how to say it without embarrassing herself or him, and besides, there were other people sitting around.

It was then that she realized that Blanco had left. She did not know why; she thought that they had been making plans for the afternoon. Then she had been blissfully distracted by Posco and their ride, and he had... disappeared. I wonder why... just because I'm going on a ride with Posco in the morning doesn't mean we all can't do something together in the afternoon... Suddenly it clicked in Lily's mind. Blanco must be jealous of Posco! Then Lily felt slightly sorry for Blanco, for though she would like to get to know him better as a friend, she knew that she could never feel that way about him.

Lily leaned in a little closer to Posco and said softly, "I am truly looking forward to this ride with you, Posco."

[Nurumaiel]

"I... I look forward to it as well, Miss Lily," Posco stammered, and then scolded himself inwardly. Lily had told him already not to call her 'Miss,' and here he was doing it again! It was so difficult speaking to her with all the others around, yet it felt good to have some company. She had leaned closer to him and strands of her hair fell past her ears and into her face. She had a very pretty little face, the firelight flickering across its softness. He liked that face turned towards him, those eyes looking up at him. And she said she was looking forward to riding with him. A smile came to his face and he felt blissfully happy.

Blanco sat at the furthest reaches of the room on a little stool, his knees pulled up to his chin and his eyes filled with mix feelings. He watched Lily's every move, admiring her easy grace and her beauty. And then she leaned closer to Posco and looked into his eyes. Blanco moaned softly and dropped his head, pain conquering him. If Lily ever loved anyone he knew it would not be him. To have his twin brother as a rival was unbearable, yet it could not be avoided. There was nothing to do now but give up; Lily couldn't ever care for him.

No! It was not over yet. He could not give up just because she looked at Posco and not at him. He would win her heart yet, her sweet and gentle heart. Posco would have his chance in the morning, but tomorrow afternoon it would be his chance and he would make Posco look a dull, ugly hobbit. He started when he looked at them again. Their eyes were still locked and Posco was beginning to smile. The firelight was doing something that Blanco did not like. He would bring Posco back to his aunt's house as soon as possible. He could not stay with Lily like this, or he would win.

Blanco hurried back across the room but not to where Posco sat. Rather, he went to Marcho and interrupted the conversation he was having with Marin, though not in an impolite way. To comply with his mother's wishes he could not leave the Inn with Posco until Marcho did. "Marcho," he whispered urgently, "supper is almost over and it's getting dark. Don't you think it's time we were getting back?"

In normal circumstances Marcho would have been all too glad to leave the noisy Common Room full of annoying people, but he was enjoying Marin's company and was loathe to go. "Blanco," he said sourly, "you are entirely too impatient. We have daylight left before we need go. Besides, your aunt's home is not far. We needn't worry of it growing too late."

Blanco's face fell. Posco had a better chance at winning now, spending these minutes in the firelight by Lily. No, no, he could not let him win. He went over to the next table and sat down beside Posco, everything within him burning with determination, though outwardly no sign of it showed. He would not let Posco win.

[Sirithheruwen]

As Marin finished his story, the table fell silent for a moment. Marin took a swig of ale, so he didn't see the medley of looks flash across his face. Twylight realized that she now felt a feeling she had never felt for Marcho before: pity. He pointedly avoided her gaze, but she continued to stare at him.

Her thoughts were interrupted but Marin's voice. "We should get going tonight if we are to reach my house by tomorrow morning," he said for the whole table to hear. "I think it's time to say our good-byes," he said more quietly in Twylight's ear. She nodded sorrowfully.

She stood up and went over to where Posco, Lily, and Iadarion were sitting. Picking up the now forgotten piece of parchment, she wrote, Well, I have to leave now. I’m very sorry to have to say good-bye, yet I must. She pushed the parchment into the middle of the table, and everyone craned their necks to see what was written. Everyone stood up with much grating of chairs, and started saying good-bye. Iadarion was first. With a little hesitation at first, she reached over and gave him a peck on the cheek. He seemed surprised, but pleased. Next came Posco, eyes still lowered shyly. She too gave him a small kiss on the cheek. He blushed slightly, but chanced a look up. She smiled kindly at him and moved on. Lily was last, and she wrapped her arms around her in a hug. True, she hardly knew these people, but she already felt like she had spent years getting to know them.

Finishing at that table, she went back to where Marcho and Marin were shaking hands. Twylight hesitated slightly when she saw Marcho. He cast down his eyes, and the feelings of pity came back to her strongly. Taking his chin in her hand, she lifted it up, and placed a light kiss on his cheek, the same she had done for Iadarion and Posco. His face broke, and it took her a moment to realize he was smiling – and at her, no less. She smiled joyfully back, and turned to Marin. He put an arm about her shoulder, and he steered her gently towards the exit.

Once outside, they both breathed the fresh air deeply. Both of them did not realize how warm the room had been. They walked slowly up the garden path. Abruptly, Marin turned toward Twylight, and she was troubled to see he wasn’t smiling anymore. “Twylight,” he said softly. “Twylight, can I ask you something?” Of course, she signed. You know you can ask me anything. Her smile had now disappeared too, and she was gazing at him with concern in her light blue eyes. “We’ve grown up together. Known each other for so long. Our long absence made this more clear to me: we need to see each other more often. Well…I mean…I’ve missed you so much…and…well…” As his voice faltered, Twylight’s spine tingled. “How would you feel like never having to be separated again? What…what I’m trying to say is…would you…like to…to marry me?”

Twylight glanced up at the sky. A lone star was shining right above them, and her face broke out in a wide smile. When Marin saw that smile, he knew what her answer was. When he saw that smile he felt like nothing could be more right in the world. Slipping her soft hand into his, Twylight and Marin strolled back along the path towards the moon wobbling over the horizon. To the two lovers, the new stars had never seemed brighter, nor the moon lovelier. As they past out of sight of the Green Dragon Inn, Marin’s strong voice rose up in song. The song had not previously been heard in these parts of the Shire, for it was in the rich, rolling language of the Rohirrim. As the last strains of his voice faded, several new stars sprang into light in the sky and the wind sighed happily. Never had Middle-earth seemed like such a wonderful place.

[CaptainofDespair]

As Myrddin began inquiring about his myriad of adventures, the smile that had set on his lips, twisted into a dark, sullen grimace. His eyes seemed to fade out, as if the fire of life had gone out. His mind drifted back through time, whilst his body remained in the inn. Suddenly, his dark figure shuddered. Slowly, the light rekindled in his eyes, as if an old spark was giving its last efforts towards the flame, and his mind returned to the present. At last, he started to utter the first words that would begin his tale.

"I shall tell you a tale of my time in Gondor. It was only a mere three years ago, maybe four. I was much younger looking than you see me here. I had not been traveling for a year or two, and I had managed to get my life in some semblance of order. I had been struggling trying to find any form of work that I might be suited to. I had passed between multiple crafts, a few weeks as a blacksmith, three months as a carpenter, and I even spent a month or two as a fisherman. Needless to say, I did not take to those very well. But at last, when all my hope had run out, in desperation I signed up to join a mercenary band that was heading out to Mordor, to the Morgul Vale."

He paused, and took a drink from his mug of ale. He then stared up at the ceiling, and as if in a trance, he mind shifted back from the present, to those years in Gondor. Myrddin could not help but cast her gaze on him, as he sat motionless, almost in a state of comatose. For a few moments, he sat like this. But finally, his tense bosy eased, and his mind returned to the world of the present once more. Again, he moved his lips to speak, and continue his dreadful tale.

"The mercenaries I had signed on with had been planning somewhat of a sporting event. They had planned to go to the Morgul Vale, and hunt any remnant orcs that remained. For their trouble, the Gondorian army was willing to pay them in recompense, depending on how many orcs were slain. Each members of the 30 man hunting expedition was entitled to at least small bag of coins, as this was the upfront cost the Army had paid just for starting out. And so we prepared for our trip into the heart of death."

[Kitanna]

Peony was happy to see that someone had taken an interest in her. She took a seat across from the woman and smiled, shaking her hand. "I am Peony and Miss Takua I am so happy you invited me over."

Peony looked over to Deva who didn't even seem to notice she had left. "My companion is as grumpy as ever tonight. Sleeping all day was not enough for him I suppose." She paused and smiled at Takua, "But please, tell me of yourself."

[Firefoot]

They were interrupted once more by the woman named Twylight, who had come to say good bye. They all stood up to bid her their farewells, and Lily and Twylight ended up hugging each other. When she and her friend - Lily noticed there was a man with her now - had left, they all sat back down, and somehow Blanco had managed to get on the other side of her. Mira good-naturedly took the seat he had been using.

Wanting to make Blanco feel welcomed back into the group, she turned to him and said, "Now what was it that you had in mind for tomorrow afternoon?" It then took a good deal of will power on her part not to turn back around and look at Posco again.

[Sapphire_Flame]

Peony looked over to the dwarf, who didn't even seem to notice she had left. "My companion is as grumpy as ever tonight. Sleeping all day was not enough for him I suppose." Takua gave a half smile; her own father was much the same way. He could have slept, non-stop, through the entire War, and still woken as grumpy as a troll. "But please," Peony went on, "tell me of yourself."

"I am a Ranger." Peony's eyes lighted excitedly. "I reported to Minas Anor for a short time, then returned here with a handful of others. The northern kingdom must not be completely unguarded. But I am only passing through this place..." Takua thought this a very uninteresting account of herself, but Peony seemed intrigued enough by it. Takua, herself, however, had never been adept at divulging personal information readily, and so turned the conversation away from herself again.

"Now, tell me something of yourself, Miss Peony."

Basiest now sat slumped in the corner of the Green Dragon. Despite the pub practically overflowing with customers, a sort of ring of space had formed around him, and he sat in silence, concentrating on his bitter pint, still practically full.

The long fingers of his hand reached up and delicately fingered the ring through the top of his left ear. The fresh piercing was still sore, marking him out as his father's son, as one of the family.

"You're a man now," his father had growled to him. "You must go into the world and make your living like a man. When you're thirty, and you return, you'll have a wife and three strapping boys." Basiest was the youngest of five children, and thought his older sister Jean had more chance of getting a wife and three children than he did. Every day that brought him closer to his thirtyeth, he became more and more worried about the expectations his father had. His eldest brother Lional had already returned with a wife and children, his second brother Markan would be back in two weeks, Jean didn't even have to go and Arbon...Arbon had been excused, being lame in one leg and blind in one eye. Which left himself, Basiest, to fufil the family tradition.

It wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so...so...socially stunted. A severe bout of illness had stopped him going to school until he was 13, and being weak with a lazy eye did nothing for his friendship making skills. A daily dose of bullying didn't help, and when his father decided to send him to an all-boys school for some 'toughening up', it had been the last straw. Basiest had been left with insecurities galore and a shy streak a mile wide.

The bubbles gently rose and settled in his drink and Basiest tore his eyes away from the soothing hazel liquid to flick a timid gaze over the crowd. Someone was just getting up to sing, two people were having an intense conversation by the bar and several delicate elf maidens sat round a table laughing, their even white teeth sparkling in the lamplight. The shy boy slumped furthur into his seat. It was hopeless. Unless there was a way of marrying and having children with someone without getting within five square miles of them, he had better just go and find the nearest cliff and throw himself off it, because he hated to think what his father would do if he returned, single, childless and even more...

His thoughts snapped suddenly, as a woman caught his eye. Immediatley, he gazed down at the table, flushing a deep scarlet. A moment later, he dared lift his gaze, and there she was, twinkling at him over her drink. Should he go up to her? Dare he approach her?

[Nurumaiel]

She was speaking to him! Blanco felt the color rising to his cheeks and his mind went blank. He could think of nothing to say. He didn't want to do anything the following afternoon; he merely wished to sit with Lily and gaze in unrestrained admiration. He did gaze at her now, but realized with a flush that she was still waiting for him to answer. He bowed his head and said humbly, "Miss Lily, I do not know what the others in this company would enjoy, so I would beg one of them to answer instead, or perhaps an answer from your own sweet lips."

There was a slight pause, and in this pause Marcho, along with Bingo, approached the table. Marcho had found that in the absence of Marin he had nothing to do, and saw that it was beginning to grow dark. The dread aunt would be fierce enough at their late homecoming without prolonging it any longer. He let his two hands fall on Posco's shoulders and, assuming an air of authority, glanced about the table and said, "I apologize, sirs and misses, that we must leave you, but the aunt of these two lads will be looking for them."

Lily's face fell but she smiled gracefully as she stood. Marcho, feeling in a considerable good mood after Marin's company and Twylight's smile, told her in a comforting tone, "Don't fret yourself, Miss Lily. We'll be back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow morning," Posco murmured shyly. "We can ride then."

Marcho eyebrows raised slightly but he stepped forward with the practiced ease of a gentlehobbit and took Lily's hand, sweeping a gallant bow and bidding her goodnight. The same he did to Mira. With Iadarion he was more reserved but still civil. After all, one could not be too friendly with the Big Folk. Yet when Iadarion spoke in his cheery manner Marcho could not keep back a smile. "Posco, Blanco, before you say goodbye here I would have you go bid a good night to Toby," he said. Posco and Blanco complied, the former speaking shyly and the latter boldly laughing and clapping Toby on the shoulder as a farewell.

Posco and Blanco said goodbye to Mira as gallantly as Marcho and Blanco more gallantly for he kissed her hand, though Posco was too shy to do anything of the sort. Blanco found he was too short to clap Iadarion's shoulder, so he contented himself with shaking his hand vigorously. Posco had turned to Lily.

"It will be tomorrow morning, then," she said.

"Yes," he replied. "As soon as breakfast is over I will be out by the stable with my pony." He paused, and then put out his hand, saying, "Good night, Lily."

She hesitated one moment, took his hand, but also leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek. He blushed furiously. "Sweet dreams to you, Posco," she said. She turned to Blanco and kissed his cheek as well, and he also blushed.

After these farewells Marcho bid Bingo start out on the road with the twins, and he remained behind with Lily. He stood before her a long while, and then took her hand and put a scrap of parchment in it. "Read this," he said. She began to unfold it, but he stopped her. "Read it after we're gone." She stared at him in puzzlement but nodded. He bowed once again to all in the room, and then departed.

[Bombadil]

Iadarion sat back and watched as his new friends either left or made plans for doing such. He was still in a slight daze from the kiss on his round cheek he received form Twylight. He sighed and said to himself,

"Oh well, it seems that just as our paths have met they diverge towards blue sky and green grass upon different countrysides. I do not think I shall return home just yet; perhaps I will go boating along the Withywindle- just as my father did many years ago."

Iadarion looked at Lily, the sole person left whom he had met- one who didn't enjoy his presence particularly. He smiled at her and said, "be not amiss, for in front of you sits the river and the forest! I say farewell to all!"

Iadarion with his spontaneity got up and left waving goodbye to those who did not care...

[Firefoot]

Lily stood for a while, staring at the door which Posco and his friends had left by. She seemed to remember herself after a while, and realized the envelope Marcho had given her was still in her hand. She wondered what on earth Marcho could have to say to her that he had not wanted her to read just yet. She placed the letter in her apron pocket, and decided she would open it later, in the privacy of her room.

Iadarion had left, she noticed, and Mira was now the only one left of their small group. Lily yawned. She remembered how late she had stayed up last night. She had no desire to remain downstairs and chat with Mira; she wanted to sleep.

"I believe that I too shall bid you a good night," said Lily. "I am quite tired, as I believe that you are as well, after last night." Mira nodded. "Good night, then," she said. Lily turned around towards the stairs across the room, and in doing so she caught yet another glance of the doorway. She smiled happily, somewhat dazedly, but she was able to make her way through the Common Room without meriting any notice. All she could think of was the last look Posco had given her, after she had kissed him. She was blissfully happy. I wonder if this is what love feels like...

She made it to her room, and prepared for bed. As she was doing so, she remembered the letter Marcho had given her. She pulled it out of her pocket, and carefully undid the seal. She was met with a piece of parchment full of bold, neat script. She scanned the letter before settling down to read it. It seemed that he had written of Posco and Blanco to her. She frowned, and warily set in to read the letter.

To Miss Lily of Bree; staying at the Green Dragon,
Greetings,
I hope that I am not to be too bold here, but having been put as Posco Brandybuck's guardian while he is away from his parents compells me to write to you and speak with you on a very delicate subject. In short, I have gathered from the way the two of you look at each other that you are beginning to have feelings for each other. That is well and good; Posco's parents would find you, as I have, a very fine young lass. However if you seriously intend to one day marry him, you may find it difficult because of his shyness. Again, I hope I do not speak too boldly, for you have only known each other an evening. Yet my mother once told me that love works fast; one will know who they love in the space of the minute. What takes time is finding if they really do love this one and want to spend their entire lives with them. If way you look at Posco can give any hint, you are beginning to consider this.

If you want to marry Posco, which I don't say you do but suspect you will sooner or later by the way you look at him, I think you might appreciate some advice. I do not say I know him very well but you must agree I know him better than you do. He is shy. I think you know this much. It will make things difficult, and so you must be patient. When the appropriate time comes for him to propose he will not do so. He'll want to, I reckon, but he'll be too shy. You must take every opportunity to be alone with him or he'll hide within himself and never speak. You might have seen this. When there is no other company you must be bold with him. If you're both reserved you'll never get anywhere. Posco will begin to wonder if you actually love him or not. I haven't much room on this parchment so I must move on, but if you want further advice you must ask me tomorrow.

Yet I must speak to you about Blanco. He's fallen fast in love with you, and he'll die trying to win you. I don't know how it happened for he had always seemed so in love with a lass back in Buckland, but it did happen and he's completely forgotten her. He'll ask you to marry him any day. He's a reckless, bold lad and it won't matter that he hasn't known you very long. He could ask you anytime tomorrow, or perhaps the next day. But I beg you, for Posco's sake, if you refuse Blanco do so in a way that does not put too much focus on Posco. Blanco is a very jealous type and while I doubt he would harm his twin I am not positive. It would, at any rate, spoil the wonderful relationship they have had.

I hope I have given you no offense by this letter, and I hope also I have not been too forward in speaking of love and marriage. I know a good deal about it even though I have never been in love myself. I am attempting to help both you and Posco through difficulties you might face with each other and with Blanco.

And so I am,
Yours sincerely,
Marcho

Lily was touched, amazed, and slightly embarrassed at the letter all at the same time. Her opinion of Marcho was changed a fair way for the better, and though she was still a tad bit upset at him for his treatment of Posco earlier, she understood him much better now. She was honored by some of his comments, and grateful that he had taken the time to write these things, both concerning Posco and Blanco. She knew that the information would be crucial in her activities with the twins. She would need to talk to Marcho sometime tomorrow, and hopefully before she met up with Blanco. She scanned the letter again, and this time the one thing that should have been most obvious in the first reading became readliy apparent: Marriage. She supposed that, though it had never been a conscious thought, it had been at the back of her mind for a while.

She soon fell asleep after she got in bed: a true sign of her tiredness, for there were many various emotions and thoughts all swirling around in her head, and all of them evoked by three certain hobbits named Marcho, Blanco, and Posco.

[Gorothlammothiel]

Soronume pondered the thought that upon his current visit to the Green Dragon Inn, the bar seemed to be occupied more so of Hobbits than of any previous occaision. That, of course, didn't seem strange to him considering he was in the Shire, but there did seem to be a curious lack of his own people tonight.

Aman was once again at the bar, rushing around as he could remember he doing so. He caught her sight briefly in which time he held up his glass, gesturing for another drink. She nodded and Soronume knew it would not be long before she would serve him, just as soon as she had dealt with several other, characters, at the bar.

Soronume sat at the bar quite content for a few moments, then he realised he had not yet removed his cloak. A rush of embarrassment waved over him, how rude to still be wearing such a soiled and tattered overcoat in the finest inn he had had the pleasure of visiting. What would Aman and the others running about the inn think of him? He stood calmly, though with a hidden urgency and removed his cloak, laying it across his lap as he sat back down. Taking the cloak from the back of his neck allowed a little more of his dark hair to fall about his shoulders. It partially covered his face in shadow.

Brushing his left hand over his lap he felt the marks left on the cloak from its wear and the battles it had seen. His fingers met a tear and he slid them through carefully to inspect the damage. As he did so, he remembered his travels that had earnt him such markings. Soronume sang, quietly;

"Walking paths seldom trodden
Wandering forests unknown by man,
Telling tales of myths forgotten
Strength in both mind and hand.

Living a life of solitude
Travelling by the day and dark,
A bright light shone from within
But lonely forever in his heart.

Cursed not with weary feet
Only with a lasting hope,
Navigating by the stars
His intuition led him home."

Soronume looked up and wiped his face with his hands, though no tears had departed, those words had stirred up old memories within him. Walking paths seldom trodden? That was not far from his own truth now. Soronume hoped that his fate was not the same as the end of that particular tale.

Aman seemed to be on her way towards Soronume. He wasn't sure whether she had heard him singing, but his song was not new. Had she heard it, she may have remembered it from a long time ago. Soronume looked down the bar. A maiden was looking in his direction. Perhaps he had been heard?

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman came to where Soronume sat, placing her hands flat on the bar and tilting her head slightly to one side as she smiled at him.

"Your singing voice is as beautiful as ever, Master Soronume," she said, grinning. "Welcome back to the Green Dragon Inn once more. Can I get you a drink or some supper?"

They had been acquainted before, for Soronume was no stranger to the Green Dragon, passing through the Inn once every few months on his mysterious travels. And indeed, from the look of his clothes, especially the tattered, worn coat he now had folded inconspicuously on his lap, those ventures were still continuing. Aman decided to make no comment on that quarter yet though - the fact Soronume had folded it away with such dignified haste meant he probably would be embarassed if she was to bring it up. Still, there was time - whether he was staying for simply a few hours, a few days, or even longer, the Innkeeper guessed his tale would come out before the end.

[Envinyatar]

There was a lull in the suppertime routine. The hungry crowd in the Common Room had been appeased for the moment, and the dishes in the kitchen had all been scraped, waiting for later to be washed. Ruby sat in one of the chairs at the oaken table, her feet propped on another she had pulled up close. For weeks now, no – months, it seemed, she and buttercup had had the running of the kitchen. And truth be told, they were bone tired from it.

‘Where’s Cook, when we need her?’ cried Buttercup as she pulled up a chair for herself. The bread pans stood accusingly on the countertop with the bin of flour just below them waiting to be opened and dipped into to make the next day’s bread. The big bread bowls loomed large from the shadows, and they could almost hear the clapping of the wooden spoons against the sides, tapping out the message that they must be up early to get the day’s bread going. ‘I thought she would be coming back long before this.’

Buttercup reached into the pocket of her apron and drew out the last word they’d had from Derufin, Zimzi, and Cook. It was a short note, hastily written saying they would be back soon.

This is quickly written, so you will have to forgive the splotches of ink. There was no time to blot it as I barely caught the messenger as he passed through.

Cook, as you can probably guess was quite distressed by your letter. So much so, that we have thrown all our belongings helter-skelter into the back of the wagon and are heading back to the Inn as quickly as the poor horses can pull us. Zimzi and I are with her. Thank the one for the calming influence of my dear one on the flustered Hobbit! I swear to you that Miz Bunce would have clamped her hat tightly on her head the very moment she finished your letter and hied herself to the Shire on her own if Zimzi had not persuaded her that she could not leave us behind.

It was hard to understand from Cook’s strangled gasps as she read your letter what exactly had happened, was happening there. The words ‘Hawthorne’ and ‘insufferable’ were barely intelligible through her clenched jaws. I can tell you she placed her hand on her chest when she squeaked out the words ‘my kitchen!’ I was unable to read what you had written as she clenched it tightly in her fist and threw it directly into the fireplace, muttering a few very unladylike imprecations.

At any rate, we will be there in less than a fortnight. Cook’s mood has not grown any lighter as we near the Westmarch, though Zimzi gives her a little tincture of valerian root at night with her tea.

I am pleading with you – if something drastic has indeed happened there, it needs to be put in order by the time we arrive. The stormclouds are gathering and I fear for any their wrath rains down on . . .

- D –
Derufin, his mark

But that had been weeks ago, and no sign of them yet. And no word why they had been delayed. ‘Wolves,’ whispered Buttercup. ‘The beasts must have gotten them when they came past the Tower Hills.

Ruby rolled her eyes and tried to make light of this worry. ‘There’s been no reports of wolves since the Fell Winter, you goose. And don’t argue with me about it – my gaffer’s the one that told me so!’ Still, in her heart there was a cold chill that something might have happened to the three travelers on their return from Mithlond.

+^+^+^+^+^+^+^+

It was not wolves that had delayed them. It was a horse. The track they had taken from The Towers to the border of the Shire had washed out in the heavy rains that had com over the hills. There were ruts along the way, deep ones, and one of the team had had the misfortune to lose his step and sprain his front forearm quite badly. Derufin would not leave the care of the injured horse to someone else, and so the little band had been camping out while he doctored the injury.

When, at last, the leg had been declared well enough to travel on, Zimzi’s horse had been harnessed to the other cart horse and they’d rolled along at a slow pace – Derufin on his own mount, leading the recovering horse at a pace that did not tax him.

Now, they neared the small hillock which would bring them a view of Bywater and the Green Dragon. Derufin watched as Zimzi nudged Cook, who was holding her breath, eyes screwed shut tightly, fearing the very worst. Zimzi’s soft voice had the hint of a smile in it as she spoke to Cook. ‘Open your eyes, Mistress Bunce! It’s a lovely view you’re missing!’

[Kitanna]

A ranger? Peony had always wanted to be a ranger. She was still young, she had time. "Now, tell me something of yourself, Miss Peony."

"I am from Minas Tirith. I came here with Deva, my dwarven companion, on an errand to Bree. We decided to stop here and see what we might. Though I believe tomorrow we shall be heading out once again."

Peony decided to change the subject so she might be able to stir the conversations back to Takua's life as a ranger. "So Miss Takua, you are a ranger? I have always wanted to join the rangers. It seems like the life that would suit me best."

[piosenniel]

~*~ Notice of New RPG Opening ~*~

ArwenBaggins invites you to take a look at her game: Farmer in the Dale

The Discussion Thread will open to take on players on Wednesday, June 30th, 9 a.m. Pacific Time, U.S.

Until then, read the proposal carefully, craft a good character, and write a well done First Post.

See you then!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

Cook returns . . .

Buttercup had just poured herself and Ruby another cup of hot, strong tea and was just passing the honey across the table when the backdoor to the kitchen flew open with a decided thump. ‘I told you to latch the door properly,’ said Ruby, her back to the entrance. ‘It’s a bit windy out this evening.’ She glanced up at her friend who stood looking toward the door, eyes wide and mouth gawping like a fish out of water. ‘Well, what’s the matter? Go shut the door, then come drink your tea. They’ll be wanting desert soon enough out there – rest your legs a bit.’

Unable to quite form the words, Buttercup stood stock still and stammered, pointing her finger. ‘It’s not the wind,’ she finally gasped out. ‘It’s Cook!’ Ruby jumped up, knocking her chair over, and whipped about. There standing in the doorway, canvas traveling bag in hand, was indeed Ms. Vinca Bunce.

‘Cook!’ they cried as one, and ran to see to her. Buttercup took her bag and Ruby righted the fallen chair, dusting it off with her apron as she invited Ms. Bunce to sit down. A cup of fresh tea was fetched, with a dollop of fireweed honey, and a sugar biscuit, crisp and tasty to eat with it.

Vinca sat down and looked about her kitchen. It was not what she expected from the calamity-filled letter she had received from Buttercup at the time of the fire. True, things were not quite in the same places as when she had left, but everything was neat and tidy and new, and with a few minor adjustments things would be back to normal in her kitchen in no time. Ruby and Buttercup sat beaming across the table at her, bursting at the seams as they waited patiently for her to make some sort of comment before they filled her in on the news and gossip she’d missed. All thoughts of their tidings fled as Cook finished the last of her tea and made her pronouncement.

‘You girls have done a good job, despite the problems I heard that you had.’ Buttercup flushed pink, wishing she’d never sent that note along. ‘Things look neat and tidy . . . but . . .’ Frowns appeared on both the servers, wondering what could be the matter. ‘Now wipe those dismal looks from your faces,’ continued Cook. ‘It’s just that we have some extra work to do in the next few days.’

‘Already!’ cried Buttercup, ‘but you just got here!’

‘Yes,’ returned Cook, untying her bonnet and laying it carefully on the table, ‘and I should have been home weeks ago and all this should have been done.’

‘All what done?’ chorused the two Hobbits, wondering what was so urgent.

‘The little house near the stable will need to be thoroughly cleaned – yes, that will do, he can bunk there; and the Stablemaster’s quarters be cleaned, too, for the brothers to stay in. Those nice little rooms at the top of the stairs have got to be made ready – her parents will stay there, and of course it’s only proper that she should be up there also.’ Cook rose to her feet and went to the pantry to take quick inventory. ‘And I’ll need you two to help out with the baking . . .’

‘Baking? Cleaning? Brothers?’ Buttercup stamped her foot and hands on hips demanded that Cook explain herself.

‘It’s perfectly clear you little goose . . .’

Cook’s explanation was sidetracked by the low chuckle that came from the still open door. Derufin grinned at the befuddled Hobbits as he drew Zimzi in beside him. ‘My parents quite approved of him,’ she laughed, ‘as did my two brothers.’ ‘They’ll be here within the week,’ Derufin added, winking at Cook, who had popped her head out of the pantry.

‘Be here? For a visit?’ asked Buttercup plopping down on a chair. Her thoughts were spinning trying to take all of it in.

‘A visit!’ snorted Cook. ‘Not likely!’ She opened the sugar bin to see that the level was adequate to her needs.

‘They’re coming for the handfasting . . .’

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik and Uien walked arm in arm along the outskirts of the Inn, crossing the little stream that ran back of it, where Falowik had been surprised by her in his bath those many months ago. He reminded her of it, and they laughed at how much umbrage he had taken at the time.

The stars rose, and Uien described them to Falowik, according to Elvish lore. He knew them as well as any Breeland man must, but the way she spoke of them was altogether different. It was hard for him to put words to it in his head. But what he did know was her tales of the sky were as fair as she, which was saying much.

His head spun with what Uien had told him. She was giving up her Elvish immortality for him! It was too much to grasp. He made a silent vow that never, never would he degrade her choice by any deeds done or undone. She was to him the greatest treasure in all of Middle Earth.

They talked of this and that, of things small and large, of the great forests to the east of the mountains, of how they must catch up to Lumiel and Eswen as they bore the body of Lira back to Eryn Lasgalen. It was a sad thought, but Lira had lived and died well, and was loved, and had now found peace across the sea. But Uien spoke of Eryn Lasgalen and Lothlorien, and of a sudden, turned to him, her eyes bright with a sudden new joy.

"I wish to show you the land of my birth, Lauréatan! After we have brought Lira back to her folk, let us turn south to Lorien. It was a place of great beauty, even during the threat of the Dark Lord."

"I would like to see it."

Her face clouded. "I wonder if any Elves remain. There were very few when my family left."

As they neared the inn, they saw some silhouetted figures arrive in the stables, then pass into the kitchen.

"I wonder who that was, taking the back way?" Uien said.

"Knowing you, fair one, it will not be long before you know the answer."

She grinned as they passed through the front door to the Inn, which was boisterous with hobbits and Elves and Humans. It was almost a shock after the peace and quiet of the night outside. Falowik looked about and saw Eodwine, Finëwen, Falco, Gorby, and Anson, gathered round the fire, talking of this and that. Eodwine turned and saw him, and he waved.

There was a commotion in the kitchen. Uien's face lit with interest. "I think maybe some friends we know have just returned." They approached the counter, and Uien passed by, peering through the kitchen door.

Falowik watched from the counter. He saw her jump once, and then dash into the kitchen out of sight. A moment later she had returned to the kitchen door, her face lit with joy.

"Falowik! Cook and Derufin have returned!"

Falowik had not forgotten them, but had not known they were gone. It would be good to see Derufin again. He had never made close acquaintance with Cook. Uien was motioning for him to come. It was not like him to place himself in the middle of a hubbub. He smiled and shrugged, and followed Uien.

[Araréiel]

Araréiel wandered into a clearing, staring at the building in front of her. In the distance, she could see two walking together, looking very much in love. How she missed that feeling, how she ached to feel it again. But no, her love was stolen from her a long time ago, and now she felt alone. A lone Elf, uncomfortable in this place, not sure where to go.

Her deep plum velvet gown, which had once been immaculate, was now tattered from travel. Leaves decorated her hair, let loose to keep her ears covered. Such a far cry from the noble home she had grown up in. With a sigh, she heaved her sack up on her shoulder, the linen sack carrying all she cared to hold onto in this world. A few books from her ada, a few articles of clothing. A piece of parchment her beloved had once inscribed a poem on for her.... Her beloved who had been taken away.

Ada never approved, and all because Caranturion wasn't a prince...., she thought bitterly. Now I'm alone.

Never would she desire to find her family, to go back to the very beings who took her life when they took her lover away.

The sight of the two creatures so in love opened the wound still so fresh on her heart after all this time. Summoning up all the willpower she could muster, she held back her tears and forced one foot in front of the other. Once inside the inn she would buy some food, some drink. Her travels have exhausted her. Perhaps they could point her to a place to buy a room for the night.

Step after step brought up leaves and dust, her skirt catching the occasional small branch. Reaching out, she put her small hand on the handle of the door and took a deep breath. No matter how often she entered inns and pubs, she was still shy. No one had been kind to her in so long that she was coming to fear being around anyone. But she was hungry, so she pulled the door open and retreated inside.

[piosenniel]

The planning begins . . .

All signs of fatigue fell from the two Hobbits as they took in Cook’s last words. One of the other servers called in through the door from the Common Room that more plates of chicken and vegetables were needed, as additional guests had come into the Inn. And Buttercup, not taking her eyes from Cook called back to the server that they were tied up at the moment, and could she see to the guests herself. Cook raised her brows at Buttercup, who took no notice, and sat forward on her chair.

‘Now let me just get this straight, Cook. In a week’s time . . .’ ‘Or less,’ commented Ruby, who was leaning forward also, all ears. ‘Or less,’ continued Buttercup, ‘Zimzi’s mother and father and two brothers will arrive from Mithlond.’ Cook nodded ‘yes’, as Buttercup went on. ‘And the reason they’re coming is that their daughter, sister, is to be wed . . .’ ‘To Derufin,’ said Ruby, finishing her friend’s sentence.

Buttercup wriggled in her seat and smiled smugly at Ruby. ‘Didn’t I predict this would be happening ? As far back as when they left!’ Ruby snorted at her crowing, ‘We all knew this was coming. I just wish we’d known a little sooner. Derufin’s one of our own . . . and Zimzi’s soon to be one, too. We’d like to make sure the place is in tip top shape when they arrive.’

Cook got up and rummaged in one of the drawers. She pulled out a piece of paper, one of the many she had, to jot down recipes as they came to her. She opened the cupboard just above and there was her inkwell and quill. ‘No time like the present,’ she said, sitting back down at the table. ‘We’ll make a plan and get to it early in the morning. With a little elbow grease and a dash of spit and polish we’ll have the Dragon looking quite respectable . . . the sort of place you wouldn’t mind having a daughter make her home in.’ The three Hobbits drew their chairs close together and began making their to-do list. Buttercup sighed, happily, as Cook's quill flew over the paper in her familiar script. ‘Nice to have her back,’ she thought to herself. As if in agreement, Ruby nodded her head and smiled at her friend. Oblivious to the both of them, Cook nattered on with directions on what needed to be done, and in what order.

Derufin bent his head to whisper in Zimzi’s ear. ‘Let’s leave the ladies to their planning – they don’t really need us.’ He took her by the hand, drawing her out the door. ‘We’ll go for a walk . . . to the Pool, perhaps . . . see if the ducks are still about.’ Zimzi was just nodding her head in agreement, when Cook’s voice rang out, stopping them both in their tracks.

‘Make sure it’s just a walk, you two! Master Derufin, you know I’ve promised Zimzi’s parents I would keep an eye on you both until they arrived. A little handholding is fine, but no canoodling!’

Derufin and Zimzi’s faces were the perfect picture of conformance. ‘I give my word to you, Mistress Bunce,’ assured Derufin, a smile softening his features. He raised Zimzi’s palm to his lips and kissed it lightly, then grasped her hand in his own. ‘The thought of canoodling will not enter my mind.’ ‘Nor mine,’ added Zimzi, shaking her head solemnly.

Cook looked at them, one eyebrow raised in appraisal of their sincerity, then sighed, remembering the days of her youth, and sent them off. She handed the pen to Buttercup for the taking of notes and directions as she and Ruby inspected the pantry and cooler for what would be needed for the upcoming festivities.

The server came in as before, requesting that more food be brought out to the Common Room. Buttercup did not raise her eyes from her list, but merely pointed with the quill's feathers in the direction of the stove and the serving plates.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Hearing the commotion in the kitchen, Aman excused herself from Soronume after serving him with supper and a drink. No other customers were immediately clamouring for the Innkeeper's attention, so she slipped away into the kitchen. It would probably be some of those nosy Farburrow boys, Merrimac's cousins, or second cousins, or some other relation...they had a habit of sneaking into the Inn and pilfering biscuits. The problem was that they were actually astonishingly bad at it - Aman caught them every time almost without exception. When faced with the furious (and slightly amused) Innkeeper, they merely protested that she was going to give them to Merrimac anyway...and the lad didn't need any more biscuits, they would go to a far better cause strengthening the surprisingly skinny Farburrow trio. Unamused, Aman usually shooed them out, but let them escape with a biscuit or two - safe, at least, in the knowledge that they would never make it as any sort of professional thief.

Rolling her sleeves up menacingly as she approached the kitchen door, Aman heard a whoop of delight and gritted her teeth - no doubt they had found Buttercup's cakes made in preparation for tomorrow. Well, if they thought they would have Buttercup Browlock's finest carrot cakes, they had another thing coming.

Bursting through the door, Aman put her hands on her hips...and her mouth dropped open. There, before her, stood three figures she had almost forgotten the sight of over the past long weeks.

"Cook! Derufin! Zimzi!" she gasped, looking from each to the other, genuinely flabbergasted at this secretive and surprising back entrance. "When in Arda did you arrive?!"

[Bombadil]

The Elf had been wandering all night in this strange place. He had much love for the history of things, and much wanted to visit bag end and other historical places form the great tale of the ring. As he roamed around Hobbiton he came across a delightful looking inn by the name of The Green Dragon Inn . It was time for a rest he thought to himself.

As he stepped in he smelled the burning wood of the fire, and overheard tales and lore which brightened his heart. The hobbits who were sober looked at the elf as if he was unwelcome, but they were pretty much accustomed to such folk by that time. Eryndil, lover of forests he was named; for he did not dwell in one place but travelled from forest to forest. He was clad in green, as ever he was. For this many called him Galendor, the green lord.

Eryndil moved his grey eyes from person to person, and was happy to find an elven lady sitting down- though she looked rather sad. Slowly Eryndil approached her and asked, "Hello m' lady, may I ask why you look so distraught?"

She looked up at him with the same pain-wrought face she had when Eryndil first saw her. "I am Eryndil Galendor, and you?" She seemed to try and squeak out the words, but grief overcame her once again. Eryndil's concern was apparent. "Tell me my lady...what ails you?"

[Araréiel]

She felt taken-aback, shocked to be noticed. Even the Innkeeper scampered away without seeing her. She willed the tears to not fall. "I-I-I know not of where I am heading, nor where I am heading, o-only that I never wish to return home." Araréiel glanced over her shoulder, feeling the need to be certain that he was really talking to her.

When she remained quiet afterward, Eryndil softly asked her, "My lady, please tell me your name."

A tear slipped from her eye, followed by another. Araréiel searched her sack for a cloth or something to dry her eyes. A hand appeared before her, a handkershief held out to her. "Thank you," she said, taking the kerchief to dry her eyes, embarassed that she should cry in front of a stranger. Yet, somehow, she also felt she could tell him more now that he had seen her tears.

"My name is Araréiel, and I am from Eryn Lasgalen. I left home because my family sent away the one I loved. I am of noble blood, and he wasn't. He was but a servant in my father's home. But he loved me, and I, him. So I left. 'Tis better for me to be out and alone rather than surrounded by comforts and those who wish me unhappy. A cage is a cage, even if it is gold."

Her desperate, pale, lilac-blue eyes stared imploringly into his, but for what she was desperate she prefered to not think about. She longed for affection, affection she had deprived of so long, and she dared not to hope to find it again. Her soul starved for someone who understood her, accepted her and what she felt rather than those whom had previously surrounded her, expecting her to be someone she was not simply because of her station in life. The heart does not choose who it loves, just as hers had not chosen to love Caranturion and could not be forced to love a royal or another noble.

Araréiel dropped a hand to her lap, clutching the kerchief with her other. For the first time in a long time she felt calm, as if maybe, just maybe, she were in the presence of a kindrid spirit. The Elf before her appeared to be one who had many travels, perhaps had seen excitement and far lands while she had seen nothing extraordinary. "From where do you come, and to where do you head, my lord? Or may I call you...Eryndil?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EDIT by Pio:

Please note the Inn Facts at the top of the page. The forest your character is from is no longer called Mirkwood - it was renamed after the War of the Ring to Eryn Lasgalen.

Thanks!

[Envinyatar]

Derufin was nearly out the door when he heard the familiar voice call out his name. He turned, as did Zimzi, and grinned a bit sheepishly at the Innkeeper. Then, much to her surprise, the smiling man moved quickly toward her and lifting her up in a bearish hug, swung her wildly about about, her feet flying. Her face a bit red from this abrupt show of affection she gasped out for him to put her down.

Zimzi shook her head at the exuberant gesture and put her arm round Aman’s shoulders as her feet settled onto the floor of the kitchen. A bit wobbly from the spin, Aman was glad to be guided into a chair near her by the kitchen table. ‘We’re quite happy to be back at last,’ the young woman said. ‘As you can well see,’ she went on, giving a look of mock sternness to Derufin. ‘You could get her a little something to drink, I think,’ Zimzi said softening her look a little.

‘I think, really, that we should all have something to drink,’ chuckled Derufin, leaning down to whisper something in Buttercup’s ear. The Hobbit ran down the stairs to the cellar, and returned quickly with a very old and dusty bottle of Old Winyards. Ruby pulled the good crystal stemware from the locked cupboard and polished them quickly with the clean side of her apron.

Cook had by this time poked her nose out from the pantry, and spying Aman had lavished almost as fierce a hug on her as had Derufin. ‘Oh, my dear girl,’ she said, sitting in a chair near her. ‘You have no idea how happy I am to be back in Bywater. And sitting here in my own kitchen.’ She leaned near the Innkeeper. ‘I had heard, you know, that there had been a disaster take place. But I have to say, it looks just as I expected to find it on my return – quite well taken care of and all in order!’

POP!

Derufin had pulled the cork from the bottle, drawing all their attention now to him, as he poured a generous portion for each, and asked Zimzi to pass them round. He raised his glass, once everyone had theirs in hand, saying, ‘Here’s to The Green Dragon! Long may she hold sway in the heart of the Shire!’ He turned then to Zimzi and saluted her with a nod of his head. ‘And here’s to my precious jewel, Zimziran,’ he went on in a softer voice. ‘Long may she hold sway in my heart.’

Zimzi smiled widely at his words and gave him a wink and a toast of her own. ‘May we grow old on one pillow, my dear.’

A round was drunk and another poured, as Buttercup leaned in toward the slightly bewildered Aman. ‘You must have guessed by now . . . they’re going to be handfasted very soon . . . this week in fact, as soon as her parents and brothers arrive . . .

[nynnd1]

Bredan stirred from his sleep on the front lawn of the inn, he did not mean to drift off, but he had not known peace of mind and body like he felt at the moment. Bredan rolled to his right, still not completely awake, his eyes still seeing a distorted image of what appeared to be two people sitting together, embraced in love, it brought back feelings that Bredan had towards Aman and what he had felt for Iolet. He shut his eyes tight to try and force some life into them, and the grass tickled his ear, making him jump up. Bredan noticed the two lovers shock at this man who had sprung from the ground as it seemed.

“Hallo. What a lovely night.” Bredan said looking up at the sky. The couple nodded in shock at the man from Gondor.

Bredan brushed himself down and made sure he looked presentable, he still had his travelling clothes on as he was prepared to leave that night on his pursuit of the wildmen. Bredan looked at the grass where he had just slept, it was unusual in the fact that, where most lawns flatten when laid upon for a while, this grass seemed to bounce back and maintain perhaps the loveliest shade of green Bredan had ever seen, and that was a lot to say as Bredan grew up near Ithilen. Bredan also noticed that he felt more refreshed then he had after sleeping in the bed of the room he had at the Green Dragon, it was as if the grass had some magic about it, he then remembered part of the story of the fellowship, where the companions dwelt in Lothlorien, with the elf queen. Master Sam had got some soil from her, maybe the grass had some of this magic in it. Bredan could have stayed looking at the grass all night, and probably day as well, if it were not for the sounds and movements his stomach was making. Bredan’s senses were suddenly split, his sight was on the exquisite grass of the shire, but his sense of smell and his hearing were now directed towards the inn, it smelt and sounded like supper time, Bredan could already hear songs and bits of poetry, so doing a little jig he wandered to the inn.

Opening the door Bredan stepped in. Although his main priority was to eat and settle his hunger Bredan was in the mood for company, scanning the room he found that his eyes were not picking up anything, he was not blinded, it was just his sight was not picking out anything particular, just looking around aimlessly, Bredan found that his ears were what was attracting him to people for who he was hoping to dine tonight.

Bredan found himself drawn to the voice of a man at the bar, he looked at the direction his ears were willing him and noticed a man with dark hair to his shoulders and a worn out cape on his lap.

“You’re voice is very comforting and you’re songs intriguing, would you mind a bit of company for supper?”

[piosenniel]

~*~ Notice of New RPG Opening ~*~

ArwenBaggins invites you to take a look at her game: Farmer in the Dale

The Discussion Thread is now open to take on players.

Please, read the proposal carefully, craft a good character, and write a well done First Post.

See you there!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Bombadil]

Eryndil was overwhelmed with concern for this woman, and smiled when she started opening up to him. "From where do you come, and to where do you head, my lord? Or may I call you...Eryndil?" She asked.

"You may my lady. I come from the trees. I am friend of the Ents and the huorns, of the Lord Legolas in Ithilien, Celebrun and Thranduil in Eryn Lasgalen - your wonderful home. I am friend of Tom Bombadil and his son Iadarion and daughter Bethberry. I have come to the Shire to explore its history. For I am a great lover of such things."

Eryndil gently sat down beside her and threw off his hood, which surprised Araréiel and any who saw it, for his hair was also green. She didn't know whether to laugh, yell, or ignore it. Eryndil smiled: "I have been marked by my friends in Fangorn as Galendor. It's naugt but dye, for my original color was a dark."

It didn't take long, though, for the lady to look gloomy again. "Tell me please Araréiel...what is wrong? It is painful to see such a graceful thing cry."

[Araréiel]

"I'm not crying, Eryndil," Araréiel said without conviction, her cheeks the color crimson with embarassment, though a lone tear began it's descent. "Well, okay, maybe I am...a little. It's just that you said the name of L-, o-of an old friend of mine, one whom I dearly miss. The only one I ever felt I could truly talk to. He encouraged me to follow my heart despite what my family told me to do, to love who my heart loved, not who they told me I must."

Finally a little maid came over and asked her what she would like. Araréiel placed her order before turning to Eryndil.

"Would you like anything?" she asked. Eryndil shook his head to show is content, and the maid scurried off to the back to place Araréiel's order with the cook.

Araréiel turned in her seat to fully face Eryndil, her curiousity getting the better of her. She tentatively reached, with a slight laugh, out to touch his hair, feeling the need to assure herself that it was really hair. Then she smiled. "From the trees.... You are an Elf, yet you come from the trees? Please explain this to me."

[Bombadil]

Eryndil was happy that her mood was somewhat improving. Normally Eryndil would take offense to people laughing at his hair, but this time he had revealed it for that sole purpose.

"From the trees.... You are an Elf, yet you come from the trees? Please explain this to me." Araréiel said as she touched his hair to test its authenticity. Galendor sat for awhile without reply - as if he was digging deep into memory. "Ah yes!" He exclaimed, "there was a song the ents made for me many years ago when I was born in Fangorn. I believe it went like this:"

Hail! The elven son of trees
who roams the woods as he may please,
In Fangorn did the young elf lie,
beside his mother who had died.
Grief we held, lament we feel
for the child Eryndil.
His Father dead, alone and scared
the shepards of the forest cared.
To the child was taught the lore
of Middle-Earth and times before.
He refused to dress in naught but green
Of other forests he had dreamed
So we let him leave but with our mark,
His hair would fare as green and dark.
In colors of our leaves he left, our green lord,
Hail! Eryndil son of trees! Hail, Galendor!

Eryndil ended with a stare as if he was gazing through his own heart which lay far beyond. His nostalgia was short, and he turned to Araréiel, "I hope that answers your questions my lady. Now, tell me more of your sad story- if it does not dishearten you - for I would like to help any way I can." He smiled and waited.

[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

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

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

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.

_____________________________________________

Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

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.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

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