The Green Dragon Inn - Part 8

[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

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

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff and Postmaster; his pony’s name is Dumpling.
_____________________________________________
Please Note:

• No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn.
  
• 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.

_____________________________________________


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_____________________________________________

It is now afternoon in the Shire.

The clouds have blown away, and the day has grown warm.

[piosenniel]

I want to remind Inn patrons of one of the Shire rules from The Red Book of Westmarch:

Short chat-style posts which encourage other players to post in a chatty style are also not allowed.

Be descriptive, and try not to use a lot of dialog.

Communication between players in the Inn is welcomed, but please try to enhance it with some descriptive writing. This is not a television show or a movie where we can see your character and the environment they are in. You need to provide that for us - not just the dialog of the scene.

Thanks!

~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

Camlost, the crow

Hopping quietly on his one leg, Camlost squeezed himself further into the shadows. The light from the lamp above the bar caught the bird’s glittering eye as he surveyed the people in the Common Room. There was a Hobbit just come down from his room wearing a very fine vest. The buttons glittered as they caught the light, catching the crow’s attention. How he would love to have one for his little ‘collection’! Not possible now though – the Hobbit went to sit with another man, a dangerous looking fellow with an axe by his side. Perhaps later, if the Hobbit left his room window open, he would see about ‘borrowing’ a button.

There were Elves about, too. Too risky to try to get anything from them. Far too observant they were, with their grey eyes. Always poking about in other creatures’ business. Though there was one – the female from Eryn Lasgalen. The hem of her cloak was picked out in silver threads. ‘If she hangs it somewhere, perhaps I can pull a few without her noticing,’ murmured Camlost to himself.

Thoughts of pretty glittering baubles were pushed away as the bird took note of the table with the man and woman from the Riddermark. Hpw could he tell? They had the smell of horses about them and their hands and fingers as they gestured, he noted, were rough with calluses from years of contact with the leather reins and leads. One of them, the man with the long brown hair, had ordered meat and ale. Engrossed in conversation with another man, they had pushed their plates and mugs to one side, setting the platter of meat and roast potato up on the broad windowsill.

If only there were a diversion!

On cue, the door to the Inn flew open and a man walked in. Threw his cloak on the floor, stamped on it, then ordered a pint of warm milk. Needless to say, eyes turned to the curious fellow. Seeing his opportunity, Camlost glided down to the platter on the sill, landing squarely on a large cutlet of venison.

Prize in claw, he flapped his wings hard and flew quickly up to the crossbeam above the bar, dripping juices and gravy on the unsuspecting heads of a few patrons. Squeezing back into the shadows with his first course, he stabbed at the meat, tearing off good sized chunks.

Drink would be needed next, he thought to himself. His head turned from side to side, looking for a likely source . . .

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman raised an eyebrow inwardly, but shrugged, nodding. "Of course." You certainly did get all sorts in the Green Dragon, but this fellow...

Turning to where she kept the coffee, tea and warm milk for hot chocolate behind the bar, Aman pulled out a mug for the customer whilst he stared absent-mindedly around the Common Room - both completely unaware of the rush of wings and the delighted and victorious crow as he flew away.

Aman excused herself from the man as she left the mug in front of him, not noticing the coins immediately, as she popped her head in to check lunch was organised - it took a good two hours to do venison really nicely when it was slow cooked in Vinca's oven. Not Vinca's at the moment, Aman thought with a sigh. And after Aman and Serilda had talked it over, the little hobbit lass had eventually parted to work for 'Cousin Adalia', with a promise to write to the Innkeeper or send her a message at some point telling how it was going. Two cooks gone in the space of a week...

Still, no matter, Buttercup had mentioned a sister with a good hand for cooking... at the moment, Ruby was doing her best, and her best was more than the hobbit-lass gave herself credit for. Aman was greeted by a hiss of boiling metal meeting water and withdrew her head hastily, calling quietly through the kitchen door, "Lunch is coming, Ruby?"

"Aye, Aman, aye," came the slightly distracted reply followed by a string of orders to someone else evidently pulled into the kitchen. Aman nodded, satisfied, then turned back to Gird, her eyes falling on the coins, a glimmering pile of gold, lying by their owners arm as if they amounted to but a few pennies...and her eyebrows shot up. He could pay for half the Inn to have a drink with that little lot! Clearing her throat politely, Aman took two coins from the pile and pushed the rest over to Gird - something you could say for the Rohirric Innkeeper was that she was honest.

"Sir, I think you may have misjudged the drink a little," she murmured, grinning.

[Niluial]

Niluial walked into the Inn and nervously looked around. She took off her silk, black cape and hung it on the coat hanger. Niluial straitened out her dress and looked around. She spotted an empty table in a corner and walked quietly there. She didn’t want to draw much a attention or make people socialize with her. Niluial sat on a chair and tucked her long black hair behind her ear. She watched the people in the Inn doing there own things and was happy to see that no one was looking at her or even noticed her. She looked out the window just to make sure he wasn’t close or on her tail, that is all she needed.

What if he was to find me here? I couldn’t go back. He better not find me but he was following my trail. I wonder if… Niluial’s deep thoughts were distracted by the sudden movement in her pocket. “Silma!” Niluial gasped. She reached into her pocket and took out a small black kitten with piercing blue eyes. She loved her kitten dearly but had completely forgotten about Silma in her side pocket through out the whole days journey. But Silma was content and had slept all the way. Niluial laughed and Silma started to purr.

Niluial sat with Silma in the corner and watched the door. She eyed out every person to make sure he didn’t enter.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:17 PM December 28, 2003: Message edited by: Niluial ]

[Phervasaion]

Phervásaion stopped and thought for a moment about how long he should stop at the inn. "Ah," he said. "I’ve just remembered I have not booked my room for the night yet. Excuse me for a moment Kitanna while I just speak to the innkeeper for a while."

He got up and made his way too the bar. Aman was busy dealing with customers and taking food and drink orders but, he saw Ruby the maid on her break. Phervásaion walked up to her and said "Excuse me madam, sorry to disturb you on your break but I wondered if I could book a room for the night. I would ask Aman but she looks busy serving other customers at the moment."

"Of course," Ruby replied. "To be honest my break has just finished but I was just finishing my drink off quickly before I started again." Phervásaion gave her the money and his name and Ruby handed him the key to his room. "Enjoy your stay at the Green Dragon," she said as she gave Phervásaion the keys. He thanked her and went back to his table.

"Sorry," he said to Kitanna. "But I need to take my bags and things up to my room and unpack."

"It’s okay. I’ll wait down here for you and then we may go for our walk if you wish," she replied as he grabbed his bags and sword.

"Yes that would be good. Maybe, while I’m gone you can talk to the man from Rohan over there," Phervásaion pointed towards Éothed. "I’ll be back down in about half an hour," he said as he made his way to the stairs. He climbed up them in his shabby old boots carrying what little supplies he had with him and came too his room. He unlocked the door and opened it. "Hmm, nice and cosy," Phervásaion whispered to himself. He put his bags on his bed and threw his clothes and supplies in the draws not caring really for neatness. They were already old and worn anyway.

[Pyroclastic]

Romenna bid her new friend Delleth fair skies and a good evening, and watched him leave the Inn. She had not realized how much she missed pleasant conversation.
"A traveling partner," she thought to herself, "how nice it would be to have someone to journey with, once again." Romenna looked around the Inn, if ever there was a place to find such a mate, this would be it.

There was the strange man at the bar, the one who had stomped on his own cloak. Not Romenna's idea of the ideal companion. Every table seemed to host a group of friends this afternoon, and Romenna was not likely to barge in on an entire group. She listened as one collective or another recounted old stories and made plans for travels. The door opened, and a woman with long, black hair entered the Inn. She cast a furtive glance about the Inn, then removed a beautifully flowing black cape and hung it on a peg. The lady seated herself at a quiet corner table in the back. She appeared to be keeping a vigilant watch for an unwelcome someone. Romenna sipped the final contents of her ale and observed the woman. She was shy, certainly. The lady softy petted the kitten she had drawn from her pocket. Her demeanor spoke of fear, and her build and movement did not suggest any capability for self defense. Romenna’s lips thinned as she watched the lady, nothing angered her more than attacks upon the defenseless. Perhaps it wasn’t Romenna who was in need of a traveling companion.

Romenna ordered two cups of tea, and as a second thought ask for a bowl of milk as well from the Hobbit lass behind the bar. Romenna brought them over to the mysterious lady’s table.
"My lady, I am Romenna of the realm of Gondor. Might I trouble you to have tea with a fellow traveling woman?"

[Niluial]

Niluial sat playing with a piece of her black hair. She could feel someone’s eyes on her, but wasn’t too sure who it was. She looked around the room but could see no one looking at her or her dear kitten. Every table was crowded with chattering and happy laughter. Niluial looked at Silma and smiled “Don’t worry, we will soon be happy! Once we find someone to protect us or just anyone” Niluial paused and looked around “he won’t find us my dear he won’t!” Silma purred and found her way onto Niluial’s lap.

Niluial travelled back into her deep thoughts and worries. She looked up and saw a woman looking at her and suddenly felt uncomfortable. Niluial turned her head and tried to ignore the woman but couldn’t help wondering why the woman was looking at her.

Niluial watched the woman pick up two cups of tea and a bowl of milk. Niluial was confused, she had not seen anyone with the woman. The woman walked in the direction of where Niluial was sitting. Niluial grew tense and sat up straight. Niluial eyed the woman, she didn’t look suspicious in any way and looked friendly. The woman placed the two cups of tea and milk on the table and said “My lady, I am Romenna of the realm of Gondor. Might I trouble you to have tea with a fellow travelling woman.” Niluial smiled and said “Oh greetings my name is Niluial and of course please take a seat.” The woman pushed the bowl of milk towards Niluial and Niluial smiled and said “Thank you” then looked at Silma and said “look Romenna brought you some milk!” Niluial put the bowl of milk on the floor and Silma jumped off Niluial’s lap and meowed. Silma hadn’t had milk for a few days and was happy to see it once again.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:54 PM December 28, 2003: Message edited by: Niluial ]

[Imladris]

Iris of Bree

Iris stormed up the walk to the Green Dragon, fuming curses under her breath at the entire Shire and hobbits in particular. The little things could be so difficult! Whoever would have thought it would have been so much trouble to mail a stupid to Bree! The hobbit had actually tried to cheer her up, as if she needed to be cheered up, she thought with a dark glower as she shoved her way into the Common Room. Couldn’t anybody be slightly out of tune with the world without a beaming hobbit with ruddy cheeks and curly hair and those despicable big hairy feet trying to make you laugh! Why couldn’t anyone leave her alone?

She swayed at the entrance to the Inn, looking for an out of the way corner for her to sulk quietly in. And of course there wasn’t. Why, oh why, couldn’t anything work for her? Since there was not empty table she could shroud with her dark cloak of choler, she began to search for a table that dwelt in a hidden corner and that few people haunted. There was one: a table with a woman of black hair and another woman holding cups with steam curling from the depths in her hands.

Two people…that couldn’t be too bad. Not perfect, but still -- with an irate sigh, Iris tamed her wild pace and merely stomped with an etched frown, disturbed green eyes, and bouncing ruddy curls to the table and slumped into a convenient chair.

The woman with the tea looked surprised and said, “Oh, would you like some tea also?”

Iris closed her eyes and rolled them violently underneath her lids. Another soul offering her kindness. As if she needed kindness. “If I had wanted tea, I would have asked for some myself,” she replied bitingly. Why couldn’t she be invisible and that way no one could bother her with their constant prattle. She considered going back up to Finduilas’ room, but she had holed herself up there for the entire visit anyway. She glanced sharply for an empty table: nothing. So she was stuck with these two: how wonderful.

Finduilas of Gondor

I thought that the ents sounded like wonderful creatures and I told Elentari so. “I never knew of Ents,” I said somewhat soundly. “They sound like fascinating creatures, especially old Fangorn.” Of course, I think that I would have grown impatient with them because of their slow speech, but other than that -- I smiled gently and brushed my lips against the rough bark of the tree.

The tune to that beautiful song was earthish: the perfect thing for a song of trees. I could feel my fingers twitch to pluck it out upon my beloved lyre, but I was blind so how could I do it. Well, by jolly, I would learn how to play again. I shot up from my reclined position upon the limb and rammed my head into a net of living twigs that snatched and clawed at my hair and cried, “Elentari!”

I could hear her giggle behind me and the next instant, her elvin hands were gently un-snagging my hair from the clutches of the mischievous tree. “I need your help, Elentari,” I said as she was busy untying me. “Help me learn to play the lyre again, please. I could learn the position of the strings while you sing the notes. And if I cant find it, you can help me! You do know how to play the lyre, don’t you?”

[Angel_Queen]

Ravon looked up to the two men beside her. "I'm from Eryn Lasgalen. Far from here. I guess you could say I'm too far from home." Ravon began to remember her childhood. She never wanted to leave home. Yet now she had. "I've never been to Rohan. What's it like."

She met the eyes of Lewis. She so wanted to see more of the world. Yet she had a job to do. She's no trouble to anyone. I'll just tell them that she's dead or something.

[Orual]

"Eryn Lasgalen!" Eruisto repeated, listening carefully the words as he said them slowly. As a liar and a manipulator, he was as much a wordsmith as any bard or writer. To him, the name sounded like the late afternoon sun on dark green oak leaves, like mystery and romance, but also like the faint remembrance of a sound drifting away on the wind. He licked his lips, as they were dry; why did he suddenly feel a sense of loss?

He looked again at Melisil, who seemed lost in thought. He felt like a small child next to her, young and foolish, not yet accustomed to the ways of the world. He felt like he was shrinking in his seat until his feet could hang, a foot or more above the floor.

Trying to keep his feet from kicking, he turned back to his drink and raised it to his lips, but did not drink. His mind was full of thought, and questions, but none came to him. He simply sat and let Melisil finish her thinking while he indulged in his own.

[Kitanna]

Kitanna sat for a moment. Wither companion gone for the time she would have to stay out of trouble. She looked around and spotted Eothed. Did he even have news of Rohan? Well, there was one simple way to find out.

Kitanna waltzed through the inn and over to where the man sat. His brown hair fell into eyes. "Excuse me. I was wondering, do you have any news of Rohan?"

And once again, we enter to see a hobbit sitting and smoking his pipe. Drogo Brandybuck was his name. The name, of which I can tell you, comes from the Baggins genealogy. Drogo was sitting at the table drinking with his friend Bucky. Bucky Billingsworth, that is. A not so respectable hobbit.

They were good friends, as hobbits go. They went through the afternoon smoking and talking of dark things, for that was there profession- treasure hunters. An odd job for people as unadventurous as hobbits.

[SonOfBombadil]

"I've never been to Rohan. What's it like." asked Ravon. Lewis looked up and found himself looking into the eyes of Ravon. He looked at her face, studying it for a second, before looking away. Her elvish beauty had made him feel unworthy of looking into her eyes.

"Ahh yes, Rohan," he started with a sigh, as though he was remembering something he loved much, and missed dearly. He began talking about the wide open fields, the feel of the wind in your face as you ride across them.

Lewis then began to talk about the city of Edoras, and the glorious golden hall of the king Eomer. He then talked about the rebuilding of Helms Deep, which had started just before he had left.

He then sat there for a while deep in thought and memory. He looked up and saw Ravon still looking at him, Eofeng also seemed to be reminiscing about old times.

"Oh, here I go, blabbing on about so much stuff, that you're no longer listening out of interest anymore. Just doing it to be polite." Lewis said with a chuckle, raising his drink to his lips.

Bucky drank a mouthful of ale and sat his pint on the table. Drogo gave a short puff of his pipe. "So, old friend, what news from the Misties?" asked Drogo in a tone that was as firm and serious as a bull.

"We'll," replied Bucky, "It's a little too early to tell...well, except I did bring back a souvenier..." Bucky pulled from his pocket a small necklace. It was silver with a green gem hanging from it. On the gem were two eagle flying in circles.

"What is that thing? Where did you get it?"

"This, my friend, is the Eaglestone. I found it in one of the many emptied goblin caves."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 2:11 AM December 29, 2003: Message edited by: randomhobbit42 ]

[Gird]

Gird woke up from his trance and looked at Aman, and then to his pile of coins. "Oh, yes, I guess I did" he said, his mind still returning from the thoughts of hobbit feet. He grabbed the coins and dropped them into his pocket.

He turned to his milk, and took a big long drought. he placed the mug down with a 'clunck!' revealing a large 'milk mustache' on his upper lip. Ahhh, he thought, it's good to have a cozy place like this to drink ones milk.

"Oh!" he suddenly cried, "one more thing, could I get a room for the night?" "Of course" came the reply, Aman seemed releived that that was all he was yelling about. "Okay, you can put it under the name Gird" said Gird. He then had to clearly spell it out, so that it would not be written with an e. It had happened before, and he felt very embarrassed and humiliated when it did happen.

Aman handed Gird the key, and he looked at it, and then with a flick of his wrist, it seemed to dissapear. A smile was on his face, he had amused himself at the smoothness of the illusion, completely unaware that probably no one else had seen it, or even cared.

Gird picked up his mug, and refreshed not only himself, but also his 'milk mustache.'

"Well, well, well. It seems to me that these caves need some exploring," answered Drogo in a tone that was both fascinated and at the same time sarcastic.

Bucky leaned in closer. "That's why I asked you to meet me here this afternoon. We need to get together a search party. You have the best hunters. I have the best maps. We could make a fortune!"

"Could? I don't like the sound of that. What kind of risks are we talking about?"

"The risks one might take for a fortune fit for the King of Gondor," replied Bucky with a twinkle in his eye.

[Melisil]

"Eryn Lasgalen!" Eruisto repeated.

Melisil looked up at him, still in her thoughts. She smiled to herself as she knew that Elvish itself was a very deep and wonderfull language, and to anyone it's meanings could be different. She thought of home for a moment, then of times past, then of the present. Just sitting here in a bar, undecided on where to go next. She did not think of the future though. She had learned many times that the future will come as it may, and most times- not all, but most- it was better not to think upon it.

She repeated a few songs from long ago in her head. Then Melisil stopped; She looked up again to Eruisto's face.

"I wish I could turn you Elf." she said, half to herself, half to him, "I wish I could show you many the many wonders I have seen. It would do you good, I'm sure." she paused, "But then.. you are not of Elvish race, and that is in other ways much better."

Melisil paused again. She looked around. "I'm sorry." she said, in her more common voice again. "I've been thinking out loud. I'm tired, I've been traveling for a while. Still, I am not that tired, and lack of sleep is no excuse for anything." She hailed Ruby, "Could I please book a room for the night? Under the name Melisil if you please."

"Certainly miss." Ruby replied, as she went to get her the key.

Melisil looked over to Eruisto again. She asked curiously, as though she had just met him again. "You said you're from Gondor?"

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 2:48 AM December 29, 2003: Message edited by: Melisil ]

[Everdawn]

Sírabel and Lanus

"You know, im feeling quite glad now ive had cake, I think it was quite a good idea that i had." said Lanus smugly smiling at Sírabel with one side of his mouth crooked and his dark hair falling over his eyes.

"It was my idea" muttered Sírabel.

"Well whoevers it was, it was a well one indeed." he nodded pushing his plate into the centre of the table. Sírabel had a troubled look upon her face, something which did not look as it was supposed to be there, like a burnt log in the middle of a field of flowers. "What is it?" he asked.

"Ive been trying to think" said she, "About how a girl like I can only stay in the shire for so long, what ever shall i do next?" Sírabel sighed. "I though i may go back to Gondor, to Minas Tirith, to Contabro. Did I ever tell you of Contabro?" she asked and Lanus shook his head. "Another story for another time perhaps? Where was i? yes, Gondor. Which got me thinking, are you going to be a rogue all your life and freelance messages for lords and thieves? Is that really where your path lies?"

Lanus cheerful mood was snapped, his face in turn grew dark. "I see Miss Dleone, we still have much to learn of one another, and much which I still have not revealed about myself. No I do not see that i will be errend-running for my life, to !Lords and Thievesand one day I will return to Ithilien and take the post which was my fathers with the prince. The Haradrim, have i told you of the Haradrim?" Sírabel humble shook her head "A tale for another time perhaps?" he said mocking her.

"You can be so cruel sometimes Lanus, and here i thought you were nice, and even now i see a darkness creep over you." she said softly and reached for her folio which sat under the table. Out of it fell the two letters she had recieved from Lanus the pervious after noon. "I almost forgot!" she exclaimed picking them off the floor from under the table. "Ill have to-" there was a loud yell which was then uttered from her mouth as her head hit the top of the table.

"Miss Delone!" said Lanus helping her up. "You made the whole table shake, and- oh dear-" he put her back in her seat but beheld the trickle of blood which was now driping from a cut in her head.

"That hurt" Sírabel moaned, her eyes watering.

"Come now, lets get this fixed." said Lanus, lifting her so she was standing, but she swayed back to the seat. Next helping her across the room, they came to the bar and Sírabel was propped upon a stool. "Innkeeper!" he called as the young woman was serving a hobbit. "Have you anything which may aid my friend here, she knocked her head on the table."

[Will Witfoot]

Fungrim was momentarilly taken aback by the jolly-seeming hobbit. But Durin knew, he was happy for the company. It almost reminded him of the old days when he had still lived in the ancestral city of the dwarfes, surrounded by his kind and kin.

"I am Fungrim Flightaxe, once of the great hold of the Iron Mountains. From which part of the Shire do you hail from, master Hamfast?".

He drank some of the beer. For the first time in the day it tasted excellent.

[piosenniel]

Buttercup

Buttercup was out in the yard, filling the water bucket from the pump. The dishes were piling up in the sink, and what with Cook being gone and she a Ruby having to fill in to make the meals, there was just not enough time in the day to get everything done in a timely manner. A voice hailed her from the road, and she looked up, shading her eyes against the sun. It was Halfred, waving at her with a slim envelope.

She dried her hands on her apron, and ran to meet him. Must be some important letter for one of the Inn’s guests, she thought. Halfred handed her the envelope, looking at her expectantly. ‘Well, lass, are you going to open it or not? It’s addressed to you, you know.’

No, she didn’t know, having not looked at the writing on the envelope as yet. ‘Oh my gracious!’ she squeaked, looking at the precise letters, neatly displayed in the middle of the vellum field.

~*~ To Buttercup, Ruby, and Miz Aman / From The Tower Hills ~*~

Halfred followed her into the Inn. She was grinning as she raced into the kitchen. ‘It’s a letter!’ she shouted. ‘For all of us! Ms. Bunce has written!’ The two women gathered round her, while Halfred stood at the back, craning his neck to hear.


My dear friends,

Sorry to have taken so long to send a note back to you. But, I have to tell you that I have simply been too busy to set pen to paper. It has been a leisurely trip, for all the rush there was in leaving. Both Mistress Piosenniel and her nanny, Gilly, were reluctant to say good-bye so quickly to the lands and folk of the Shire. And Mister Mithadan is hard put to say ‘no’ to his lady. (And I would not want to be there should such an occasion arise!)

We spent several days in Whitwell, where Gilly is from and had a delightful time. Plenty of hands to play with the twins. And Gilly’s mother, I must say, runs an admirable kitchen of her own. There is a certain, tart black currant sauce for lamb which I have managed to pry out of her with an exchange for my own mint sauce. I half suspect she has left something out of her recipe, but I believe I savored it long enough that I can guess all the ingredients and their quantities.

Our next stop was The Dusty Traveler Inn, just south of Michel Delving. Now the Cook there, one Calendula Bracegirdle, has her work cut out for her! For ‘Dusty’ is too kind a word for that area. We were covered in white chalk dust from head to toe by the time we reached the Inn. The wind blows in from the west and the chalky White Downs gives up itself particle by particle as the breezes scattered the fine white chalky dust in the air. They have devised an interesting covering for the windows – a very fine, tightly woven silk netting that screens out most of the dust when the windows are thrown open. Calendula believes that the distinctive flavor of the foods from her area comes from the inevitable spattering of dust that every thing acquires. I am inclined to agree with her; it gives the flavors a certain dry edge. And think also that it is an excellent prompt for selling the great amounts of ale and other spirits that they do. One cannot help but be thirsty when one is swallowing dust!

From there it was on to The Far Downs, which Gilly reminded me were oft times called the Fox Downs. Try as we might, we had no sightings of any foxes there except for the one on the sign at the small Inn at Greenholm – The Fox and Firkin. Rooms were scarce to be had there. A party of Hobbits from Longbottom were there, trading leaf for imports that had come in across the Westmarch from Harlindon. Master Derufin and Mister Mithadan bunked out in the stable’s loft, while Mistress Piosenniel and the babies, Gilly, I, and Zimzi shared two small adjoining rooms. The meals were good. Nothing fancy, just good Shire food, and plenty of it. Interesting note – they employ a male cook. Tomlin Took by name. His wife had been the Cook previous to him, but she passed on a number of years ago, took ill from some bad potted eel she’d put by one year, or so I heard. Anyway, he’s and interesting person, about my age, I’d say. I’ve told him we’ll stop in again on our way back to Bywater.

You are probably wondering how the two lovebirds are doing? Well, I must say, that Master Derufin has made my job quite easy so far. He’s been the complete gentlemen, treats her like she was his waking dream. Which isn’t hard to do, she’s such a sweet young woman. This is not to say I have not let them take a number of walks alone in the evenings after dinner. How else are they to get to know each other? Propriety is all very good, up to a point, though in my mind it need not squeeze out romance altogether.

Now we have crossed over the Westmarch and are camped in the Tower Hills. For all her Elvish ways, Mistress Piosenniel is not having as easy a time with this new baby as she did with the twins. This one has a more contentious spirit. We have spent several days here in the shade of the trees and the towers while she waits for her stomach to remain settled enough to travel on. Master Derufin and Zimzi, and I have taken the opportunity today to climb to the top of Elostirion – to look West. They linger above, while she points out the way to her home from the balcony.

I’m sitting at the base of the White Tower, my back propped against its sun warmed wall. A hummingbird has found me. That is it has found my white vest with the big red flowers woven on it! Try as it might it cannot draw honey from them!

Derufin and Zimzi are coming down the stairs; I can hear them laughing. I’ll send this to you when we reach the Grey Havens. Someone will be coming this way from the Gulf, and can leave this with one of the Shiriffs at the bounds to bring to the Dragon. Will write again when there is time.

* Remember to clean out the flue from the stove in the kitchen. It’s that time again. And we wouldn’t want a repeat of the fire we had several years ago.

~ V. Bunce

[Fosco Burrows]

"I've made it at last! After that journey I could do with some liquid refreshment, some old toby from my favourite pipe and a good dose of old fashioned shire hospitality, I hope to find them all here." "Fosco Burrows is my name" the weary traveller announces to all at the bar who are prepared to listen and for my sins I own a broken cart and a horse that is fit for retirement!"

The thirsty young hobbit orders an ale and tells the drinkers at the bar about his journey. "I'm a miller from the small village of Whitwell about 7 miles south of Tuckborough, I've travelled the 25 miles to Bywater to dwell whilst I hope to do business regarding corn with Farmer Cotton who farms these fields"

"Anybody travelling the East road tonight will find my cart and horse in a sorry state by the side of the highway, for I have been forced to walk the last few miles!" The hobbit then excuses himself and retires to a table near the fire to catch his breath and more importantly sample the local wares.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 4:01 AM December 30, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Fire-Galad]

SINDAHIR

A shadowed figure sat near the back of the inn. Two small lights were all that could be seen of her eyes. 'As grey as the Anduin' her father always said. The girl shook her head. 'No this is why you're going to Valinor.' Sindahir gave a small sigh. She missed them. Her father, a lord in the house of Elrond, her mother, a beautiful and graceful Lorien Elf, even her annoying older brother Feanor, named after the Noldor lord of old. Now, they were just memories. Sindahir remembered how each of them left her and she hated not only her family for leaving, but also she hated herself for remembering it and anything else that had to do with her life in Minas Tirith. Except for one thing and it often stopped Sindahir from killing herself. Before she ran away six monthes ago, two weeks after her mother was killed by Orcs, Sindahir often locked herself in her room and never went out so her father asked if he found something or someone who could tell her about what ever she wanted to know, Sindahir would act the way she did normally. She had thought and told him she would if he found someone about the War that happened outside the city.

Sindahir smiled to herself. Her father kept his promise by finding one of the companians who had traveled with King Elassar. Sindahir didn't remember the Elf's name, but she did remember that whenever he visited her, a Dwarf was always with him. When the trio were done with the stories,Sindahir remarked that she would love to have an adventure.

Sindahir returned to watching and listening to the crowd, she nearly jumped when she two familar names, Rohan and Minas Tirith. Sindahir drew her grey cloak closer to her slim body remembering that her horse came from Rohan. Snowstar, Shadowfax's foal and soon Lady of the herds in Rohan. The names came from a group of four. One was of the Rohirimm and two were Elves, her own kind. The fourth Sindahir didn't know his race. 'I better keep an eye on them' Sindahir thought to herself.

[Orual]

It seemed as though Melisil was about to leave, so Eruisto had begun to stand to bid her good night. Then she turned around, and, with a curious look, asked, "You said you're from Gondor?"

Eruisto was a bit confused by the question at first, but he had just asked her about her home, so it only seemed fair that he should answer a question about his own birthplace.

"Yes, my lady. I wasn't born in the White City itself, but just outside. My grandfather was a member of the guard, and my brother still is, under the King Elessar." Though he had not been in Gondor for several years now, Eruisto still said the name of the King with a special reverance bordering on awe. "It's a great country, especially now that we're under a king again."

He sighed, a proud smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he looked at Melisil. "I may not be an Elf, but there's still honor and dignity left in Gondor. I think that the King has brought it out in us." He looked quickly at Melisil, hoping he hadn't said too much. He wondered if it was polite to speak of the rising of Men to an Elf. He hoped that he had not hurt her feelings. Not the type to often wait around and find out--that got him in trouble--he went right on over whatever comment Melisil might have had, if she had one at all.

"But even Gondor couldn't hold me forever, though I do long for Minas Tirith some nights, when I'm sleeping in a hay loft or a dry trough, I can feel the breeze and see the flags whipping around and the leaves of the White Tree rustling faintly..." Eruisto broke off and smiled apologetically. "But nonetheless, I'm here now. I do think I'll see the White Tower again, though. It calls to me sometimes." He glanced curiously at Melisil. "I guess you can understand that."

[Pyroclastic]

Romenna and Niluial looked up in startlement as a curly haired woman slumped into a chair at their table unexpectedly. Romenna blinked and recovered from her surprise in time to remember her manners. "Would you like some tea also?" She inquired of the stranger.
"If I wanted tea, I would have ask for some myself," the stranger replied rudely. The woman stared moodily beyond Romenna at nothing, lost in her own thoughts.

Romenna sat back to better see the angry woman standing beside the table. Something was obviously bothering her, and she seemed in no mood to be comforted. The lady wanted to be angry, she needed to be angry. Romenna glanced at Niluial, studing her companion’s reaction to the angry intruder. Niluial petted her kitten as it lapped at its bowl of milk, the woman did not seem to bother her. Whoever it was that Niluial feared, this was not the person. Romenna reached up and unclasped the clip holding her brown braids atop her head, and slowly unwound the braids, giving her fingers something to do while she thought. "This is becoming quite a pattern," she thought to herself. "Everywhere I go, I somehow attract a crowd. Ah, the troubles of being friendly."

Romenna looked at each of her table mates. The newcomer was happy being grumpy and alone. Niluial took a first sip of her tea and considered the taste of it. Neither woman seemed inclined to start conversation. All three women jumped in startlement from the sudden shout of laughter by a man at a nearby table. The curly haired woman glared at the man. Niluial took a gulp of tea and cast a worried look around the Inn, once again looking for someone. Niluial’s kitten stood up from her now empty bowl of milk, and began to creep across the table, hunting some unseen prey. The kitten crouched, wiggling in anticipation, its eyes focused on the elusive object of desire. Then it leapt, its tiny claws extended, and landed on the far edge of the table. As it landed it suddenly sprang to one side, startled by some imaginary kitten foe. The kitty sprang too strongly though, hit a slick spot on the table, and skidded off the edge of the table.
"Silma!" Niluial cried. The new woman lunged across the table and caught the kitten just as it slipped off of the edge. Silma the kitten looked surprised at her unexpected adventure, and squirmed in the lady’s grasp. The lady handed the kitten back to Niluial wordlessly. Silma had other ideas. She kicked and struggled against Niluial, and landed a fierce scratch on her hand. Niluial squeaked in surprise at the pain and dropped Silma onto the table. Silma hissed proudly and skittered across the table to the curly haired woman and sat on the edge of the table, watching her and purring with a certain fierceness.

Romenna smiled and laughed while fishing a handkerchief from her pocket for Niluial. The curly haired woman looked at the cat, dumbfounded. "Cats are like that," Romenna said. Taking advantage of the opportunity provided by the kitten, Romenna decided to introduce herself. "Greetings and fair skies to you, my lady. I am Romenna of Gondor. Traveler, and guard for hire. My companion is Niluial, and I know not the name of the kitten."
Niluial smiled, "Her name is Silma." Turning to Romenna she said, "You are a guard for hire? I have never known a female mercenary before."
"I was the second youngest in a family of four boys," Romenna said. "All of them became warriors for Gondor. Without a mother to insist upon propriety, I don’t think they ever truly realized that I was a sister, not another brother." Romenna looked remenicent for a moment. Her brothers would have adored The Green Dragon. The had always had an affinity for the more obscure pubs. Especially Joren. There had been that one tavern on the outskirts of Harad…
Romenna shook her head, realizing that she had been daydreaming in the middle of her story. "At any rate, I learned war craft with the rest of my brothers. There are few opportunities for female warriors, but I have no other skill. The work is perhaps less glorious than for men, but such is the world." Romenna took a sip of her tea, and waited for Niluial’s reply.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:34 AM December 31, 2003: Message edited by: Pyroclastic ]

[Arothir]

Eothed had asked Taurnil how long he was going to stay. Taurnil was silent for a while. This was a nice inn, yes, but he wanted to get out of Middle-earth soon. He argued in his mind. He still wasn't sure how long he would remain in Middle-earth.

"Well, Eothed, it depends I guess. I feel like staying for a while, but loneliness is getting to me. I will try to make friends at the Inn. I hope my mood doesn't change, or I will leave the Inn and Middle-earth for good. But how is Rohan?"

[Fire-Galad]

Sindahir was so deep in thought that she didn't notice Ruby coming to her table with a letter.
"Here miss," said Ruby holding up the letter.
Sindahir snapped back to reality.
"Thank you Ruby." Ruby walked away and Sindahir read the message.

Dear Sindahir
I hope this reaches you before you leave. I have been told by Aragron, or King Elassar as the Gondorians call him, that your family was royalty. Before Gil-Galad went to fight in the Last Alliance, he named his youngest brother his heir. the brother was your father.

Sindahir reread the last two sentences. Her father a king? The letter continued.

So you see you are a princess of the Noldor. If you don't believe me thats fine. I must say this, come back to Minas Tirith before you leave Middle-Earth. I have something to tell you.
May the Valar protect you
Legolas
Sindahir stared at the letter. "Legolas," she whispered to herself. So she was to go back to Gondor the one place in Middle-Earth she didn't want to be, but the possibility of answers to the questions bugging her was too great and Sindahir secretly agreed to go back to Minas Tirith.

[Fosco Burrows]

"This is a fine inn and I feel most welcomed and at home here" Fosco said to himself but loud enough to be heard and to be thought of as a jolly polite and curteous hobbit.

Fosco was anxious however as his sole purpose for being here was to do business with Farmer Maggott, and following his problems on the East Road that day believed he would be late. Yet Farmer Maggott was not in the Green Dragon this afternoon.

"I do hope Farmer Maggott is not annoyed at my poor time keeping and I hope also that he has not gone home with the intent to end our business agreement"

Fosco sat at his table drinking his ale worrying about his new dilemma. The burrow's branch of Hobbits are known for their lack of good fortune and their constant worrying as a result! Fosco stroked his rotund hobbit face and scratched at his blonde hair (with all his worrying it was a miracle he had any hair left!), he began to look around the inn for someone to unload his worries upon "a problem shared is a problem halved" his father would always say, and it had become the unofficial family motto.

At this moment a group of Hobbits entered the inn. There were three of them and they began to look around the assembled throng of drinkers and travellers who had nearly filled the Green Dragon. Their eyes darted nervously around often stopping on what they believed to be familiar faces.

"Fosco, Fosco" the largest and most out of breath hobbit gasped. "Thank the stars above we have found you" huffed and puffed the tallest and strongest looking of the hobbits, he was obviously of farming and hard working stock. "We have been following you since you left Whitwell but could not catch you. We found your horse walking along the East road and a little further down your broken cart. I'm afraid we feared the worst" The third hobbit who was much smaller and youngest looking of the hobbits looked upset and added " we searched the route for you but found nothing, you have given us all a bit of a fright!"

Fosco looked at the three hobbits with a puzzled look on his face, he was not known for his speed of thought but at this moment in time time he knew he must ask one question of his trackers "why did you need to follow me anyhow"

Nemair looked over his shoulder into the coming darkness of twilight. Nothing was there though he strained his far seeing eyes. Nothing. The itch in his side would not leave. His ears twitch as the soft sound of hooting owls float on the soft wind towards his perked up elven ears.

Everything was to quite, which was the problem he supposed. Used as he was to traveling as a scout for the King in the woods of Eryn Lasgalen... It was never this quiet there, and it hadn't been for all his long life.

New sounds reach his ears as his eyes see a glowing rectangle of light. The door to an inn perhaps. Well its high time he settled down and found a drink to calm his jumpy nerves.

As he neared the door to the inn Nemair was able to discern the sounds more and more clearly. Raucous laughter, drunken singing and shouts. Perhaps this was not the place to settle ones nerves he thought as he came to the door.

A small sign swung in the silent zephyrs of early summer, it read the Green Dragon. An interesting name for a place in the Shire, which was supposed to be quiet and monster free, thanks to the work of King Elessar...

Shaking his head slowly the elf pushed open the door and ducked his way inside.

Upon entering the inn Nemair new that something was different about this inn, then from the halls of Eryn Lasgalen. Everywhere different groups settled, elves, dwarves, hobbits, and men, all mixed up to whatever system this place had devised.
As he looked around the room he spotted a small bird in the rafters trying to stay out of sight, and he smelled what could have been cooking venison from the kitchens.

Coming up to the bar he waited for the small hobbit lass to get around to him.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman heard Buttercup gasp and turned to see the little hobbit waving a piece of paper excitedly, her face flushed, but business called...the Innkeeper motioned one minute to the flustered hobbit-server and came forward to the jumpy-looking elf who had just approached the bar, a mixture of vague confusion (strange that vagueness should be seen on such sharp features) and acute interest settling on his features. I hope he's not too jumpy..., the Innkeeper raised an eyebrow inwardly with the thought, eyeing the bow and quiver of arrows he carried. She had become rather lax on the weapons policy, but maybe it would be better to start bringing it back...

"Good day, sir, how may I help you?" she inquired, smiling politely.

The elf regarded her for a second - probably confused as to why a woman of accurately Rohirric appearance (horses, horses, she had to go out and see the horses this morning, she had promised she would...) was asking such a question in the bar. An introduction was in order then...

"My name is Aman, I'm the Innkeeper." Her hand moved across the bar as she spoke.

[Fire-Galad]

Sindahir was packing up her belongings in her room. After she finished, Sindahir picked up her Lothlorien cloak, fastned the brooch at her neck, slung her bow and quiver of arrows onto her back, and got ready to leave the Shire. Sindahir had decided to take the same path as the Fellowship until she got to the Misty Mountians. Then she would take the Gap of Rohan and pick up the trail that Gandalf and Pippin used.

Sindahir pulled out a map and drew out her course in ink. She then folded up the map, put it in her backpack, and from under her bed Sindahir pulled out three large, white boxes. She shook all three of them and, after hearing two rattles, put them as well in her pack.

When Sindahir got back to the entrance of the inn, she noticed two men talking to each other. One was a Rohirrim, Eothed, and the other was an Elf, Taurnil. 'Maybe they can help,' Sindahir thought. 'Anyways it's worth a try.'

Sindahir took a deep breath, pushed her silver hair out of her face, and walked over to where they were sitting. "Excuse me," said Sindahir, in her strong and smooth voice, to the Elf. "I'm going to Minas Tirith. I would be honored if you and your companion would join me."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:13 PM January 01, 2004: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Melisil]

"I do think I'll see the White Tower again, though. It calls to me sometimes." Eruisto glanced at Melisil. "I guess you can understand that."

"You will, no worries of that." Melisil smiled sitting down, more casually then before though, "Members of the gaurd of Gondor in your family is something to be proud of, I'll say that. And yes, King Elessar has done your country a great amount of good."

She took a sip of her ale before continuing, "Minas Tirith calls to you the same way that both the Grey Havens, and Eryn Lasgalen call to me. I can see it by watching you, that is where you love most." Melisil looked at some of the other customers of the Green Dragon, thinking hard for a moment. She sighed then looked to Eruisto once again, "The calling to the Grey Havens becomes greater the longer I live, yet leaving middle earth forever saddens me greatly and I am torn between the two choices." she stopped again, studying Eruisto's face. For a reason unknown to her, she felt a question coming up inside her,

"Eruisto, how old are you?"

[The Perky Ent]

"I lived in Longbottom in the South Farthing, but after an careless accident, I'm currently living in the Inn, seaking my fortune." Hamfast said to Fungrim, sipping his drink. Hamfast had been in the Inn so long he could spot people with his eyes closed. Hamfast was tired of all this waiting. He wanted to be with Ruby.

Taking a abnormaly large chunk of bread and talking with his mouthful, Fungrim said "That's a shame. However, that reminds me of a story. I was walking down the mountain when I man a tall man with a horse when...". Fungrim was drifting out of Hamfast's perception. With a loud thud, Hamfast fell asleep with his eyes wide open and drool running down his face.

"Hamfast? Hamfast?" Fungrim said to a inanimate hobbit. Hamfast was breathing. Fungrim smirked and thought that that perticular hobbit wouldn't be drinking for a while...

CADORSA

Cadorsa pulled her cloak tighter about her shoulders as she entered the town. The sun was bright yet the wind that had blown the clouds away was harsh on her face.

Her horse, Jacks, was an older mare, nothing special about her except for the fact that she had once belonged to Cadorsa's father. He had traveled to Bree from Gondor upon her, in search of a new life. He had met the young and frivolous Marietya, the stable mistress, there and married her. A few years later Cadorsa had been born, but took her mother's life in her violent entry.

Now Cadorsa found herself very alone in this world with the death of her dear father and the eviction of the house she had grown up in. She had gone where the road had taken her, but now with the harsh light of the sun things were beginning to come together.

She must get back to Minas Tirith to find what family she had left. Her father had had a twin sister, and if she lived, Cadorsa would have a family to go home to.

She smiled slightly at the sight of an inn, The Green Dragon. She was weary and thirsty, perhaps she could find a few maps of roads to Minas Tirith.

Leaving her horse with the stable boy, she smoothed out her skirts and walked into the inn and up to the bar. Tucking her chin length blonde hair behind her ear, and gazing with green eyes at the wood on the counter, she listened to the voices about her. One voice got her attention with it's words.

"I'm going to Minas Tirith. I would be honored if you and your companion would join me,"

Cadorsa jumped and turned to see a beautiful young elf maid speaking to another elf.

"Minas Tirith?" Cadorsa said, standing and walking over to the maid, "You are going to Minas Tirith?"

The elf looked warily at her, causing Cadorsa to blush slightly for her rudeness for interupting.

"I am in need of a guide to the White City, if you would be needing a companion, I would be willing," Cadorsa looked up at the silver haired maiden and prayed for a positive response.

[Fire-Galad]

Sindahir glared at this human girl and before Sindahir could stop herself, she replaid. "I'm sorry, but I'm looking for adults not children." The girl said that she was sorry and wouldn't bother her again, turned away, and walked out the door.

Sindahir at first felt satisfied that the girl left, but her guilt began to grow. 'She was in need of help and you knew it.' Sindahir finally made up her mind. 'I can still go to Minas Tirith if I take her. Anyways I do have the course drawn out on my map.' With that, Sindahir ran out the door.

Sindahir found the girl at the stables.
"Come on Jacks, lets go see if we can find someone to help."
"And what kind of help do you need?" Sindahir was leaning against the near the girl. The girl just looked at Sindahir.
"I thought you said you were looking for adults and not children?"
"I know what I said and I'm sorry. I would be honored if you would join me...uh...I didn't hear you name."
"Cadorsa."
"Sindahir."
The two shook hands and Sindahir asked Cadorsa.
"So when do you want to start?"

[Finwe]

FINWE

As he rode into the town, Finwë slipped his hood up over his head and kept to the side of the road. It wouldn’t do at all for someone to take a good look at his face, especially not now. He lifted his hand and softly skimmed his fingers over the long, pale scar along his cheekbone. No, it wouldn’t do at all. As he entered the town, Finwë noticed a rather comfortable-looking inn by the side of the road, and decided that both he and his horse needed a rest. They had been riding for five days, barely stopping for food and water, and they had a long way to go. Once they reached the inn, Finwë dismounted, and led his horse to the stables. There was an empty stall next to the entrance, and he led his horse inside, making sure that he had enough hay and water. As he walked out, he noticed a stable boy half-dozing by the wall.

“You, boy. Take good care of my horse.”

The boy jumped up, a respectful look on his face.

“Yes sir. Anything you say sir.”

Finwë smiled, and flipped him a silver coin.

“Go have fun.”

The boy nodded his head, grinning, and ran inside the stables. Finwë grinned and walked toward the main part of the Inn. He really needed some rest and one or two mugs of good ale ought to give him that. He kept his hood up as he walked in the door, and even though he attracted more than a few stares in his long, black velvet cloak, his slightly curved sword strapped across his back, two hunting daggers at his waist, and bow and quiver slung across his shoulders, he went straight to the bar.

“A tankard of ale, please, and an apple if you have any.”

Finwë settled down on a stool, and took out a dagger, placing it on the bar in front of him. Yes, ale and an apple or two would do very nicely.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 5:53 PM January 01, 2004: Message edited by: Finwe ]

SAVED for re-worked post.

Please check your PM's (Private Messages).

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:58 PM January 02, 2004: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Fire-Galad]

Cadorsa let out a yawn. Sindahir turned and look at her. "Oh Cadorsa I'm sorry. You're tired and so is Jacks."

"No I'm okay but...yawn...I am a little worn out."

"Then lets go and see about getting another bed put into my room so you can sleep there."

"That would be nice."

The two girls made their way to the door of the inn. Once inside Sindahir headed to the counter and Cadorsa followed her.

"Aman can I have a word with you?" The Rohirric innkeeper came over to Sindahir.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering, could you have a second bed put into my room so that my friend Cadorsa can sleep there?"

"Sure."

As the two of them were eating, Sindahir couldn't help but look around at the crowd. She then notice someone walk in. She was going to pass it of as another traveler, but she noticed the stranger never took his cloak off. Sindahir's curiosity always got the better of her before and thats why it took her six months to get to the Shire and she wasn't going to do that again. So she just closed her eyes and tried to see if she could hear him talking. After not hearing anything, who could it was always so loud in here, Sindahir opened her eyes. She saw him sitting at a table by himself.
"so Sindahir," Cadorsa started. "What were you doing here?" Sindahir considered the question before answering.
"Well you see, when Elves get tired of being in Middle-Earth they leave. Thats what I was going to do only I got a letter from a friend of mine named Legolas. He said that he hoped that the letter would reach me before I left. He also said that he wanted to tell me something and that I was to go back to Minas Tirith."

"Oh, did he say anything else?"

"Well, he did say something but I'm not going to say here."

"Why?"

"Lets just say I might be royalty."

"Wow!"

"Sssh."

"Sorry but how?"

Sindahir went to explain about the Fingolfin and his family and about his grand-son, King Gil-Galad and the rumor that he had named his brother his heir and that her father might have been that long-lost heir. Sindahir went on to say that her father and older brother were killed and so was her mother.

"So you see? I might be a princess."

"Forget princess didn't you say your was killed?" Sindahir's eyes widened.

"So you're saying that I might be a queen?" Cadorsa nodded as Sindahir tried to get over the shock. As she she did, Sindahir started to laugh alittle. She then remembered not to say anything only it was too late. Someone had heard everything that was said between the girls.

[Gird]

Gird was finishing off his milk, when he noticed someone enter the Inn. The only reason he really noticed him above anyone else who had entered, is because he wore a velvet cloak. I suppose if you have to wear a hooded cloak, may as well make it a nice fabric, Gird reasoned with himself.

He noted, as the man ordered his ale, he ordered it in the quantity of a tankard. Now he wasn't altogether sure what a tankard was, but it sure sounded big. He went on for a moment or two thinking about the size of a tankard. Now, is a tankard like a big tank? like a big barrel of ale? Tankard almost sounds big enough for a hobbit to be able to swin in.

Gird noted though, with a bit of dismay, as he was about to order a tankard for himself, that the man's ale was served to him. Tankard, he guessed, was just another name for a pint. Oh well, it sounded impressive.

He decided that it was about to introduce himself to the man. Gird leaned over and said with a smile, "Hullo, my name's Gird" He then reached over and grabbed the man's apple right from underneath him, and took a big bite, and interupted himself with an "oh!" and then a "this is the best apple I've had in a long time!"

He licked his lips, finally cleaning off the 'milk mustache,' that had been lingering there for quite a while. He then remembered his manners, and turned back to the man.

"I am sorry, what did you say your name was?"

Cadorsa turned back to the counter and wound one of her fingers around her short fair hair. She had cut it when her father had died as a sign of mourning. Her dark clothing also gave away the fact that someone close to her had passed to the gods. A funny pair they made, she thought, we must look laughable, a mounring woman and an elf maiden.

Cadorsa wiped the last of her bread around the empty bowl of stew in front of her and looked over at Sindahir.

"So, Sindahir," She said, setting the uneaten bread in the middle of the bowl and looking over at her companions with curious green eyes, "What were you doing here?"

The Elf considered the question for a moment, "Well you see, when Elves get tired of being in Middle-Earth they leave. Thats what I was going to do only I got a letter from a friend of mine named Legolas." Cadorsa's ears perked at the name, Legolas? Where had she heard that before?, "He said that he hoped that the letter would reach me before I left. He also said that he wanted to tell me something and that I was to go back to Minas Tirith,"

Cadorsa nodded solomnly, still trying to remember where she had heard that name before, "Did he say anything else?" she asked, bringing her hands together on the counter and staring at her fingers.

"Well," Sindahir shifted in her chair nudging closer to Cadorsa, as if she had something to say for her ears only, "He did say something but I'm not going to say here."

"Why?" Cadorsa questioned.

"Lets just say," Said Sindahir, edging closer, her voice going very low, "I may be royalty."

Cadorsa's eyes widened and her mouth formed a small 'o' of astonishment, "Oh my," She breathed, "Royalty?"

"Shh," Said Sindahir, "I shouldn't have mentioned it,"

"But how?" Cadorsa asked, turning her attention to the room as to seem as casual as possible.

Her voice went low as she explained the story of her family and lineage and Cadorsa sat with listening ears and casual eyes as the elf recounted.

"So you see?" She ended, taking a drink from her mug, "I may be a princess."

Cadorsa gave her a look from narrowed eyes, "Princess? Did you not say that your family has been killed?"

Sindahir's eyes went wide, reminding Cadorsa of the sun, large and revealing, "Queen," She said just below a whisper. She drew her breath and luaghed a bit sitting back in her chair, staring at the counter in shock at the thought.

Cadorsa drew away from her and took a drink from her own mug, tasting the bitter ale as it slid down her throat and warmed her stomach.

The sudden realisation that they had just had the conversation in a public house hit the two maidens at the same time, and Cadorsa put her head in her hands.

"Do you believe anyone heard our talk?" Sindahir asked looking around the room slightly.

Cadorsa did the same and shook her head, "I think i'm going to have another ale," She said, setting her mug down.

They soon found, however, that someone had heard their words...

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 2:15 PM January 02, 2004: Message edited by: Mercy of the Valar ]