The Green Dragon Inn - Part 5

[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.

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.

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Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Derufin, a Man from Ethring in the Ringló Vale, is the stablemaster and general handyman/jack of all trades for the Inn.

Vinca Bunce, Hobbit – ‘Cook’ – widowed runs the kitchen

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

Amaranthas Bolger – very old, crotchety Hobbit from Hobbiton, nicknamed ‘The Dragon’

Piosenniel – Elven, Innkeeper prior to Aman; married to Mithadan; has two children: a twin boy and girl; as yet unnamed infants.

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It is now late evening at the Inn, on a nice mid-summer's night.

[Envinyatar]

Her impish wink had been followed by a decidedly inelegant yawn. Derufin retrieved the spoon she had placed back on the rim of the bowl just as it teetered and tipped toward the floor. Another yawn followed and her eyelids, heavy with fatigue fell shut slowly, the lashes brushing her cheek and then rising for a brief moment before she surrendered. Her head lolled back against the end of the bed, and he watched as her breathing slowed.

‘Busy day, eh?!’ He set the half finished bowl of crisp on the ground by his chair and brushed a lank strand of hair from her mouth. He pulled on his boots grunting softly at the tenderness of his ankle, then bent down and gathered the sleeper in his arms. He could see dreams just beginning to run beneath her lids. Standing up cautiously, his weight shifting gingerly on his feet as he approached the side of his bed, he laid her down gently. His hand reached down to pull the spare quilt over her slight frame, and he tucked the pillow beneath her head.

He stood and watched her for a moment, her face, free from worry, smoothed out, her hand tucked beneath her chin. ‘Pleasant dreamings, Vanwe,’ he murmured, as he bent and blew out the lamp, ‘and thank you.’

Derufin went to the other room, the one where Eodwine had slept, and lay down on the cot. Lighting the small reading lamp, he fished in his pocket and drew out his letter. Slipping his fingers beneath the seal, he broke it and unfolded the letter, his eyes savoring the long blocks of script written within. Words danced in familiar phrasings and he smiled as he heard her voice pulling him into the ordinary details of her life . . .

He fell asleep, having read the letter a second time - lying on his back, sprawled out on the narrow cot, left arm flung up above his head, his right hand resting on his stomach. The vellum slid from the bed, as he shifted in his sleep, and fell fluttering to the floor . . .

[Meneltarmacil]

Eldarmacil left his horse tied up outside the Inn and strode inside. He wore a dark green cloak, under which he wore a long sword on his belt. He removed his hood, revealing his long golden hair and elven ears.

He paid for his room and the stabling for his horse, then sat down in a corner of the Inn with his mug of ale. As he noticed a woman (Niniel) talking with a Gondorian man (Dynavir) at a nearby table, he suddenly remembered the reason that Celeborn had sent him there.

He walked over to where they were sitting. "May I join you?" he asked.

[ July 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Every one please remember: It is Year 12 of the 4th Age.

All the Ringbearers - Frodo, Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel have departed for the West.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[GaladrieloftheOlden]

Herlion stooped down a bit, entering the inn, so as not to hit his head upon the top of the doorway. Upon coming inside, he glanced with slight regret at the sunlit street outside, walls of houses echoing with the yells of small children and the calmer speech of older ones as a slight breeze played with his dark hair. Then he shut the door carefully, though it probably would not have made a difference had he slammed it, so loud was the din of conversation, and looked around.

There didn't seem to be anybody he recognized about. He sighed. It was rather difficult for him to get used to the way the inns worked, all the conversations and friendships started merely on a whim, and often forgotten the moment those involved left the house, to be renewed some other day, or not at all.

Some people jostled at him from, seemingly, all directions, so he moved aside, glancing at the assorted people gathered around tabled or sitting on benches. He found something to sit in a corner, and tried to relax into it, though his muscles simply wouldn't ease up. Finally he managed to find a comfortable position, and pulled out his pipe, lighting it slowly, in the corner, just watching everybody around him, looking nonchalant, feeling bashful.

[littlemanpoet]

OOC: I will be away until early August. If this means that the unknown wanderer does not arrive the following day, I will arrange an appropriate in-story explanation. I hope somebody can take care of Falco in my absense. Sorry for the excess verbage.

[Imladris]

Lira asked herself what she had intended to accomplish as she uneasily waited for the door to open. What could she say to calm the elf-woman's rage and relieve her sorrow? She was a stranger and Lira did not even know her name; she had been a fool to think she could help the Elf.

Creaking softly, the door began to open slowly, revealing a wondrous fair maiden whose eyes blazed with sudden anger, while at the same time reflecting a heart-rending pain and grief that stabbed at Lira's own soul.

"Welcome," the woman said, beckoning Lira into her quarters.

The two elves stood in uncomfortable silence as they eyed each other. Lira glanced wretchedly down at the knotted pine poard floor and wished she had not come. Yet how could she leave this woman who was filled with anger and hidden grief? Revealing a slim green garment edged with silver, Lira removed her black robe from her shoulders and gently folded it across the bed. "I am Lira, a Sindarin Elf of Ithilien," she said, fixing her eyes upon the tortured face of the Elf before her. "Even a stranger can heal the wounds of a broken soul," Lira added gently. "What evil has caused you so much grief and pain?"

[ July 24, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel smiled a little sadly. Sometimes she thought from her nightmares that her past wasn't such a happy one, and maybe it was for the better that she couldn't remember it. But other times, she cried herself to sleep, wondering if there was someone out there, somewhere, who could tell her her name and the names of her parents. It was almost a pity that Mardath had left, nervous as he had made her, since he seemed so familiar, but she just couldn't figure out why.

She looked at Dynaviir. "Well, w-w-we've said all th-th-that there i-is to say about me. What about y-y-you? I--I know n-n-next to n-n-nothing about you."

She smiled, to let him know that she didn't mind his asking about her past. It wasn't as if that question was uncommon, after all, what did people do when they first met but talk about themselves? The question of who she really was just was one of the things she could not answer. She had almost gotten used to it. Almost.

[Dynaviir]

Dynaviir looked away. This was unfortunately one of the most awkward conversations he had ever had. What could he have said?

"Th-there isn't much to tell," he stuttered, sounding almost like Niniel for a moment. "I am from Anfalas, though my father often visited Minas Tirith, and I later moved to Penneth Gelin as a child. Though later I went to serve for the Gondorian army during the war. Now I am a ranger of the South, protecting the people from dark tidings, though few know it."

He relaxed a little, then added, "I wished to meet the Dunedain, but I have yet to meet one in my travels." He stopped talking there and fell silent. He didn't want to go into details about his past, but he knew the names of his homes wouldn't do as a valuable history. But then what else was there to say, other than about his father... his past...

He moved his hand to the top of his cloak and there he seemed to hold something, although it was hidden by his cloak. As he did so he looked down. Then he let it go and turned back to Niniel, and pushed the thoughts aside.

"What is it like up here? To live in such a peaceful place as the Shire? Or... I'm sorry, I didn't ask you where you stay. Do you live here in the Shire?"

[Everdawn]

Scylla raised an eyebrow at her cousin, who had finally calmed down. "If you will let me explain my dear Yebasian, For your information, the Farmers in question, would be the Danimadid clan am i right?"

Yebasian slowly nodded her head. "That is them." her tone was gruff. Scylla unfolded another piece of paper from inside a pocket of her cloak and began to read. "ah! yes, you see, they owed me some money, a lot of money infact, and i suppose that since i sent you they thought they could get something out of you in return."

"So why did you send me then!" protested Yebasian. "Becuase, the roads are being watched, and i have been stopped twice already. Though they have no idea i have slipped through their fingers. How is my mother?"

[Elora]

... The sands blew against her face, piercing the too thin cloak she pulled tighter against the onslaught. The wind pushed her backwards as she struggled up the slope of the dune. Her mouth was filled with sand, her legs burnt. When the wind died down, harsh voices shouted from behind her. She twisted her head, seeing the shadows boil over the ridge behind her and terror slowed her further. The wind pushed her back, into their ropes and chains and curses and she had nothing left even for tears as the first rough hand painfully yanked her backward and off her feet...

In the quilt, Vanwe shifted at the mercy of her wandering dreams, winding it a little tighter around her.

... "I do not know it's proper name. I call it the Watcher for it watched over me at need," said a man's low voice. It shimmered in the night sky as if it recognised that name and now her as she looked up at the star she had asked the Ranger about...

A soft murmuring escaped her, lips forming the words of the star's name in a sigh, and Vanwe relaxed a little as she wandered further. The healings, untutored as she was in it's art, had drained much of her strength and her dreams were at the mercy of her deepest memories. Elf, she blended dream with recollection and it lived as though she did not sleep at all.

...Their children's faces twisted with a deeper, more adult revulsion. In sing song voices made shrill by their derison, they chanted "Witch, witch, witch." The more she denied their accusation, the louder they chanted and the tighter they drew their circle around her. She did not see who threw the first pebble, nor the first rock picked up in small hands from the stony ground of the village.

"Stop it," she cried in a child's voice of her own, yet different to theirs as she was from her Mortal jury. Anger burnt through her fear and she shouted filled with wrath. "If you do not stop my mother will stop you!"

The faces grew cold and white. Some gasped at her statement. She was aghast as she realised what she had said. Already someone ran towards a small hut and her stomach sank lower still. There was nervous laughter when the woman appeared, the child who had informed her trailing behind her for protection from the demon child.

"You and your tales!" The woman's voice was a hot and sibilant hiss in her ear as she grabbed her shoulder. "Who are you to be terrifying the children, forgotten spawn," the woman snarled as she dragged her towards where the man she most feared leaned in the shade of the small shed.

The woman relayed the story given to her. "She been frightening the children with her mother. Says she's coming back!" There was a note of fear in the woman's voice that escaped her. The man, though, laughed humourously. He turned away and when she could see him again he had that braided leather in his hands. She stopped her lips from betraying her again with a "No". He dragged her towards him, the woman turned away and soon it was happening again.

Blood, she knew, felt hotter than the midday sun where either fell on her skin. The sound of the leather falling and his sounds of exertion as he brought it down on her back replaced all sight and sound for her and she sank beneath the blows. He would stop, and until then she had to stay silent and listen to his repeated vow. "You'll not bring her back here, cursed whelp."

When he was finished, she could crawl away and maybe find somewhere to clean up as best she could. It wasn't until then that her voice betrayed her silence and in the shade of the animal shelter, she whimpered as she reached for the torn pieces of her shift at her back. A goat bleated at her...

The whimper was still on her lips when her eyes flew open. Her throat was closed and she pushed out against the quilt in the strange place she found herself in. It was dark, and she did not remember it. Was it the lean-to the goats used to hide from the sun during the day?

With a low moan, Vanwe reached with her hands and found a mattrass beneath her fingers. She felt no blood on her back, nor the sting of lacerated flesh. Her frantic breathing slowed as her disorientation cleared. It was a dream, vivid and painful as they can be. Shivering she pulled the quilt back to her and curled up. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. A dream and only that, brought on by exhaustion. She was in the stables. She could hear and smell the horses nearby.

Just a dream blended with memories she would do almost anything to rid herself of. Aching, she clutched the quilt to her and swallowed against unshed tears. Vanwe swallowed also a keening grief that rose sharply from her stomach. No matter how many rocks and beatings, her mother had not come. She never would. Vanwe's shivering did not abate for a very long time in that warm summer night. She placed a hand over her mouth so as not to wake anyone and furiously tried to sleep, this time without the living dreams of exhaustion. Just to sleep, as alone in her mind as she was in life. Vanwe sent a plea to the Watcher that this be so.

"Please", she whispered to the night around her.

[Elentarimir]

Megilian rode silently up to the Green Dragon Inn. She had been hunting ceaselessly for three days now, and the trail she had been following led here. She dismounted her sleek white horse and walk into the stable, the horse following loyally behind her. "Come now," she whispered to the horse, as she opened the stable. The horse obediently trudged in, and Megilian shut the door. With one last look after her horse, Megilian entered the inn.

It was noisy, and crowded; not at all Megilian's type of thing. She drew her hood up higher over her head, covering her long, brown hair and her piercing blue eyes. She strode confidently across the room to the innkeeper, and asked after a room. There was a quiet discussion, and a few silver pennies changed hands, before Megilian walked up to the bar, key to her room in hand. At the bar, Megilian ordered a small wine. Since she was looking for someone, it would not do to be drunk. After receiving her drink, she sat down in a corner of the room, at a table by herself. Her eyes glittered from under her cloak, as she surveyed the room, looking for the young boy she was searching for.

[Esgallhugwen]

Eyeing her cautiously as she took off her dark cloak, laying it across the bed lightly. She spoke, her fair voice telling her name and origin, a Sindarin Elf of Ithilien whose name was Lira. An odd looking Elf as she was but Esgallhugwen could make no judgement upon her for she herself had rare traits for an Elf, indeed, no matter where she hailed from. The auburn hair was a tell tale sign of her difference and rare origin, and crystal grey eyes.

Yet all was fairly the same she had great percieving abilities; her skills included healing and that of battle know how.
"Even a stranger can heal the wounds of a broken soul," Lira had said; why not trust a total stranger she was fair and had a goodness within her, might prove better than to trust your own Kin.

They had been good to you except "the Few" she thought. Biding her time with the blonde Elf she answered 'I am Esgallhugwen of the Silvan Elves, my people reside in the east' It was all she would share for now of her origins to her she had already spoken enough. Her clan was now few in number, and her family's original abode was no longer in the east, it was a dark pile of ruble after The war of the Ring.
It wasn't known by many because it was small, and too many battles had gone on then for them to notice.

Not being of a trustful mind was her nature, it would take time, and perhaps she would never tell Lira of her darkness, that was for her own mind and body to have, no other should have to go through what she felt, what she feels.

[ July 25, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Arestevana]

The stranger woke after a breif rest and moved downstairs to get a drink. As he approached the bar, he saw several figures whom he had not noticed on his arrival. He slid his coins across the counter and grabbed his mug. The first was a mysterious young lady sitting at a corner table. She was scanning the room, even as he did. The next-- his eyes slid to the opposite corner, where a man sat smoking a pipe.

The stranger nearly dropped his mug in shock. Setting it firmly on the counter top, he rose and took several steps toward the corner. The man was tall and dark-haired, observing the goings-on with careful nonchalance. Taking another step closer, the stranger forced himself to relax. It was not who he had at first thought it to be. That did not however, make his situation any less dangerous. He frowned, unconsciously reaching for his sword. The sheath he had bound to his leg to keep in from swinging or becoming very noticeable; the hilt was covered by his cloak. Still, the knowledge that it was there was reassurance enough. He turned around and walked over instead to the woman sitting alone on the other side of the room. He motioned to a chair across from her and spoke.
"Good evening, miss. Do you mind if I sit down?"

[ July 27, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel sighed and shook her head. "N-no. I--I do n-n-not live here, th-th-though I have b-b-been here longer th-than I usually stay any-anywhere. S-so far, i-i-it has been pleasant." Far more so than anywhere else had been, especially the mountains. Compared to them, and the inhabitants thereof, the Shire was a paradise, though she did not doubt that it had its faults.

She sighed, and put her hands to her temples. This conversation was getting very complicated. He had something he didn't want to talk about; she had nothing to tell him about her past; neither lived where they currently found themselves.

She sighed. Things had once been much simpler for her, she was sure. If only she could remember something about that time...she shook her head. No use falling into that state of melancholy again. She had learned to live with it, so by Eru, she refused to feel sorry for herself.

[Rochelle]

She quietly looked around to see why Quellë was so distraught. Chocolate gaze could find no fault in the place, and it even appeared that the roof had been recently thatched. She shrugged and led the white stallion from his holding and out into the sun.

She picked up a brush and began to groom the horse. His white coat gleamed in the evening sun with nary a spot on it by the time she was finished. He whickered approval and content as he whuffed warm air into her shoulder. She smiled and gave him an approving pat before she led him back into the dimness of the barn.

Na sîdh mellon nîn. Alandelu si

She gave him a quick pat before exiting the stable. She would be staying with her hobbit friend Wilmac whilst among the Shire...it truly was a beautiful haven.

[Elen Ilúvitauri]

Yebasian slumped in the chair before rolling up her sleeves. "Ah! You never tell me these things! If i had known those Rohan farmers were shifty, I would have never put up with their complaints!" She sat up straight to face her cousin.

"So the roads are being watched you say, well its not me they are after its you, if only that monster of a man-"

"Yebasian, you must never speak of it!" hissed Scylla from the other side of the table. "Your mother is well, though your uncle died last fall, his heart they say. The travelling was to much for the old man. And that yearling is broken in and set among the other horses right for ploughing this year." she said.

[Dynaviir]

Dynaviir sighed. This conversation was going nowhere, and he felt he intimidated her slightly. But he looked at her and smiled anyway. He was trying his best to be polite. But then he saw through one of the windows the tail of a horse being taken into the stables, and he remembered about Doienwei.

"Do you have a pony, or a horse?" he said. "I need to go and see to Doienwei, my pony. Every night since she first came to me I have stayed with her to talk. I'll need to go to her before it becomes too dark, she can become unsettled easily."

He knew he had to go, but he didn't want it to look like an excuse to leave from Ninial's view. "You can come, if you like, but she can be easily startled. She wouldn't mind visitors, though." He smiled again and stood up.

[Imladris]

Lira narrowed her blue eyes at Esgallhugwen: the Elf Maiden wasn't being very cooperative. Lira could feel the darkness within her, she had seen it clearly in her mien and attitude; why would Esgallhugwen not share it with her, and let her comfort her? Lira had wandered among the tall trees of Mirkwood, Lothlorien, and the Old Forest listening to the teachings and lays of the Elves, and never had she felt such darkness within one. Yet maybe there were Elves like this and she had not been mature enough to feel it.

Glancing again at Esgallhugwen, Lira looked deep into her grey eyes and again saw the deep sadness that filled them, while the anger that had first blazed within them was a mere spark. "If you hide your Darkness, it will not go away," Lira said gently. "Instead it will consume your very soul."

[Dragon Elf odin Ragnorock]

One quiet night in the Green Dragon Inn a young looking person in a black cloak opens the door. After he walks in he finds a table in a dark and lonly coner. He knew nobody. He took off the cloke he was waring and set his simitare down in the corner.when the watriss came up and tund on the lightthan she saw a young elf about the age of twentywith a dragon scale around his neck.
He was wering travliers clothes and had travling boots on.

"What would you like to drink,"said Ruby
"Can I have an Ale please,"said the elf
"sure" said ruby
"by the way my name is Ragnorock" said the elf.
"Hi I am Ruby" Said Ruby

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Beren87]

Beren slowly got up from the table he was sitting at, the man sitting across from him already falling down into his Ale. He silently gathered up the money on the table where he was just sitting, scooting it as quietly as possible into his overflowing coin-purse. Another round of cards, had put him quite well off now. Gambling may not have been the most distinguised of all activities, but if it got him through, then why not?

Turning with a smile on his face, he looked out the window to find a inky darkess. Stunned, he surveyed the room, which to his disbelief was nearly empty. He had meant to meet Derufin tonight! Now he would be in these raggedy clothes until tomorrow, or whenever he managed to find him again.

He silently cursed to himself, not letting the word escape into the quiet of the common room. He may be a gambler, but he'd like to keep that the worst of his known vices. The stairway creaked and groned as he walked up it, not wanting to let his passage go unknown. The man he had been playing with stirred slightly, but did not awake. With a sigh of relief, Beren continued up the stairs. Having a man whom he had just won over 100 gold pieces from awake was not his idea of fun. Well, truthfully, he thought, it would be fun, but he rather liked this Inn and getting thrown out of it wasn't one of the more pleasurable possible turns of fate.

As he entered his room, he lit a few of the candles on the bedside table. His water basin had been refilled and the bed straightened up in his absence, but he barely noticed in his stupor. Clothes fell to the floor before the bed creaked with his entering of it's warm sheets. Rolling over, he reminded himself to see that man in the morning...clothes were certainly needed.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel also stood. "I--I would love t-to come. My m-m-mare is also st-stabled out th-th-there."

The two of them walked out to the stable, where Dynaviir's lovely little mare, Doienwei, waited. She was a sweet little bay mare with a short, slightly stand up mane and a gently swishing tail. Niniel was at once captivated. Compared to this wonderful little horse, Niniel's nameless gray was hardly worth a thought, even though her lines were impeccable. Niniel had made sure of that before she stole the mare.

She stood back while Dynaviir went into the stall and petted and groomed Doienwei, all the while murmuring into the mare's ears, which were turned to catch everything that he said. She envied him this love that sprang between him and his horse. Niniel refused to become attached to anything, for fear that she would leave them behind if someone were to discover her trade. And that she had plyed it on them.

"H-how long h-h-have you had her?" she asked, curious as to how long it had taken to develop such a bond between the two. She was beginning to wish that she would become mute or something, because everytime she spoke, Dynaviir seemed to withdraw a little more, as if he was afraid of frightening her away. Mute might actually be an improvement on a stutter that sounded like some sort of half-wit.

[Envinyatar]

"Please", she whispered to the night around her.

Her plea broke through the layers of dreams, and he sat up quickly, thinking his daughter, Meldë, had called out to him. She had often had dreams that frightened her, and he had always been the one to see to her, leaving his wife to slumber on. But his was not his bed, nor did the breeze that blew in the window bring with it the fresh tang of the Ringló . . . and there, beside him, was the empty bed giving lie to his sleep-fogged hopes. Still, someone had cried out, and he rose from the bed as he remembered Vanwe, who lay sleeping in the next room.

If, indeed, it had been her, she now lay sleeping once again, turned on her side, the quilt drawn up to her chin. He sat on the edge of the mattress, as he had done for his daughter, and rubbed the small of her back. ‘It’s all right now, little one,’ he murmured soothingly to her. ‘The bad things have fled; they cannot find you.’ She hunched her shoulders at his words, the quilt slipping from them. Derufin settled it back over her, and brushed the hair back from her sleeping face. For a few moments, he watched as her breathing slowed and her eyes lay quiet behind her lids.

Rising up, he took his pouch and pipe from the table near the bed and went out into the Inn yard to sit on the bench beneath the great oak . . .

[Beren87]

The end table crashed back as Beren's head hit it on it's trip down from the bed. His rolling body landed with a "Phlump!" upon the floor, a lump growing on his head.

"Ouch.." he said, quite stunned at this odd turn of events. 5 seconds ago he had been deep in a dream involving an open field and that lovely innkeeper.

Hoping this wasn't a sign, he got up and dressed himself, the pain on his forehead preventing him from even the thought of laying back down. His feet carried him down the steps to the common room again, but it was mostly quiet at this hour. Even the seemingly ever-present server had gone off to bed now, leaving the patrons to either fend for themselves or, if they were brave, to wake her.

Deciding that perhaps fresh air would do him a little good, he stepped out the door and to the small yard around the side of the Inn. Sitting beneath the large oak was a man, softly drawing on a pipe, his smoke going up into the velvety night.

Moving over behind him as silently as possible, Beren leaned against the tree.

"Looks like it's just us up at this hour, mate."

Slowly the man looked up and around, revealing himself to be Derufin. "Ah, Beren, good to see you. I was just sitting here, watching the fireflies dance. What brings you out?"

Rubbing his head, he replied, "Well, just like you, couldn't sleep I suppose."

"So what would you like to do about those clothes? I set out a few earlier, some that might fit you. We're about the same size, though, you may have to take up the legs a bit. I'm an inch or so taller."

"Well, your kindness is unmatched. I'll just be needing two sets for now, just enough to get me through until I can have the local tailor make some or such." He slipped down beside Derufin, leaning his back against the tree.

"I'll run in and get them for you, it'll only take but a minute." He said this as he rose and turned back to the Inn.

Beren sat, silently singing to himself. The fireflies rose and fell with the wind, courting in the night. Their lights flickering on and off as the spun around each other.

He turned his head as Derufin came back, holding a bundle of cloth in his arms. His footsteps were light on the evening wind, but the crunching of the grass alerted as to his presence.

"This should last you a while anyway, they're clean, and that's all that matters". Derufin held out the bundle as Beren got up from the soft ground.

He took the clothes, examining them over quickly, then looking back up. "How much would you like?"

At this Derufin got a a bit uncomfortable, moving awkwardly. "Er..well, I.."

"Well," said Beren, opening his purse, "Do you think 45 would be good?"

"That's really too much..you don't.." said he.

"Do stop, here's 45 and that's that. I thank you kindly, my good sir. And if there's anything you ever need help with, just call for me. I'll hopefully be lodged here for quite a while. Beren said this, pushing the coins into Derufin's hand, then closing it around them.

"That I will, Beren. And the same goes for you, I'm always around." he smiled as he said this, then stretched his hand out.

Beren took his hand, shaking it warmly. "Well, good sir, I'll be going now, hopefully sometime tomorrow I'll be seeing you again."

He turned and strolled back to the Inn, the bundle of clothes packed tightly under his left arm, the cool breeze playing through his hair. Two fireflies were dancing outside the door of the Inn as he opened it, lightly, he pushed them aside softly with his hand.

[ July 27, 2003: Message edited by: Beren87 ]

[Everdawn]

"That topic of conversation was buried with the man of the subject." said Scylla sharply to her cousin. It was not like Yebasian to dig up the past, but it was her own fault.

Scylla's family had been gypsies, having no permanent home they roamed the lands from southern Gondor to Harad. The matchmaker had made her a match to an old merchant in Minas Tirith. It had been a painful marriage and her husband had been abusive and beet Scylla into a inch of her life. The next time her husband tried to do this, he was not so lucky, and was slain by Scylla who fled to Harad in fear of the authorities.

She knew that no one would believe a girl from modest beginnings, so she set up a horse wrangling business in South East Gondor and began to trade with the other countries. Her cousin Yebasian had been a great help in averting soldiers who were still on the lookout.

Although Yebasian was cunning she was easily slipped up, meaning she was not so good at keeping information to herself when she was drunk. But this never bothered Scylla because Yebasian always mentioned her origional name, Cayatana, who was now no longer in existance. Scylla had taken her grandmothers name, the origional Cayatana was famous among the tribes of north eastern Harad, being said to be able to see a little way into the future, she made most of her earnings reading plams.

"Uncle Rehymid, bless his soul. Was a great man." Scylla raised her ale glass in the air and drank deeply from it. "Tell me truthfully Yebasian, have i not made you wealthy though?"

Yebasian gave Scylla a look of contempt, "Aye, that is true. I am wealthy, even if i have nothing to show for it."
Scylla forgave Yebasian for this. "Tell me now, what have you been up to, it has almost been a year since we last met."

[Esgallhugwen]

'To hide is not in my nature, I don't wish to hide from it' she glanced out the open window the moon was rising over the horizon, she drew her attention back to Lira who was searching in her grey eyes. 'But to tell you would possess you with the burden of the grief as well, and to do that whould be far too unjust for me to bear driving me into further sorrow' she sighed hurtfully as Lira felt the pain in her voice.

She looked aside at the night sky; Esgallhugwen wanted to weep at the beautiful stars because of Lira's soft haunting voice, but couldn't bare to do it with such company.

Esgallhugwen now longed to walk out among the stars like times long ago, where she didn't have such a burden among her soul. Lira stood patiently with curiosity in her blue eyes, wanting to help so badly.

'Lira' Esgallhugwen spoke softly 'you care much for one you do not know'. There was a brave hope within her, Esgallhugwen could see it in her blue eyes and in her mind.

How could one care so much for a complete stranger? In all her years, though they were short among the elves, she had never felt such openess and williness to help, even among her own Kin who chose to remain sundered from others of any race except those who remained among the household and land of her father.

Esgallhugwen had never wanted to go forth and look for others when her mother had lived, she had been content being with her loving mother and few friends, and did not see why her father sought to restrain his people from leaving and searching for new lands and other peoples of the same race or different, such as men, dwarves and even the little folk.

'Do you wish to go outside, perhaps for a ride?' Esgallhugwen asked politely, wanting to be under the rising moon and stars on this clear night, she didn't feel comfortable enclosed in this room while sharing it with another, no matter how kind she was. She felt it too cramped, it was pleasant to sleep in but not to talk or stay in for a long while.

[Dynaviir]

Dynaviir looked up at Ninial and smiled. He was feeling a bit more relaxed now, and he was glad she had come. He had wished for friendship when he came.

"I've had her ever since the war ended" he said. "She is from Rohan, and one of the soldiers gave me her after I saved his life. She was very young then, and she should not have been in the battle. But now she has grown, and she has grown with me."

"She likes you." He smiled at Ninial and his eyes seemed to be more focused now, less brooding. "Please, sit down, she would like you to stroke her mane."

He looked into Doienwei's eyes, and he whispered something to her. She neighed slightly, and tilted her head as in agreement. He smiled at his pony. "Doienwei says you look trustworthy, and she would like your company too." Doienwei neighed again and looked up at Ninial, almost smiling.

[Imladris]

Lira furrowed her brow and bowed her head when she learned that Esgallhugwen would not share her burden of sorrow with her. They were both strangers and it was the natural response; nevertheless, Lira was thrown into a sea of surging disappointment.

She vaguely heard Esgallhugwen asking if she would like to go for a ride, and she nodded yes. Like phantoms they floated down the stairs, for many were all ready abed, and crept silently towards the stables.

A soft wind whispered in their ears and upon its wings brought the fresh smell of grass and flowers. Lira breathed deeply, thankful that the stench of beer and ale was gone. As the breeze tugged her hair, her spirit soared, exalting that it was free: free to hear the trill of crickets, the murmur of water, the sounds of the night, the shimmer of the stars, the silver glow of the moon.

As they glided into the stables, Lira turned her head and murmured, "You told me that I care much for one that I do not know. You are a Silvan Elf, I a Sindarin. We are kin, you and I, because we are of the race of Elves. I asked you to share your grief because if one has a friend, even if she be a stranger now, that burden of sorrow and anger is easier to bear, for now you have one to help you: one to pull you from sloughs of despondancy, one to hear and feel your bottled anger and to comfort you in your distress." After a short pause, Lira said, "This is my mare, Merkaliel. What is the name of your horse?"

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Elentarimir]

Megilien watched a young man walk into the room. She sipped her wine, intrigued by his quiet entrance and the fact that he looked somewhat familiar. She saw him notice her as he grabbed a mug of something, presumably beer or rum. Megilien looked away, but watched him from the corner of her eye.

He watched one of the other men, with a look of terror in his eyes. After a time, he walked over to her. Megilien wasn't in the mood to be drooled over, but didn't object when he asked if he could take a seat. The young man sat down. She turned to face him, and took another sip of her wine.

"What's your name?" she asked quietly.

[Dragon Elf odin Ragnorock]

A few moments later, Ruby brought Ragnorock his drink of ale.
"Sorry, could I trouble you for some cheese and some bread," said Ragnorock
"Sure, it will be a few moments because we ran out of bread” said Ruby
"Thanks" said Ragnorock

After Ruby left Ragnorock looked at the signet ring his very good friend gave to him. I was wreathed in diamonds and it has a bow with an arrow crossing it. He still dose not know what he should do with it. It was his friend's wish be fore he died in Ragnorck’s arms that he have it. Even though he dose not know why. He dose not know anything about the ring. So he is looking for someone that knows something about it. He heard that there was an elf in this inn that knew what it was or knew someone that knows about it. He also knows some elves in rivendell that might know what the ring dose.

Ragnorock looks around the bar and cannot see any elves in the room. So he walks up to the barkeep and asks:

“ Are there any elves that live in this Inn?”
“Yes, but she is not here right now.”
“Can you tell her to talk to me when she gets back? I will be sitting in that corner over there.”

Ragnorock walks and sits down at the table and sat down and drank his ale and eats his cheese.

"Any thing more?" said Ruby
"Yes actually, can you tell me anything about the ring I am holding?"
" no I am very sorry I know nothing about that ring, but I would hold it very close to you because out of this inn in might get stolen."
"Thanks" said Ragnorock

He again looks puzzled at the ring and still tries to decipher why his friend gave it to him. He tries to think back to that very bloody day. He remembers his friend getting stabbed in the chest with a spear and then shot six times with arrows from a goblins bow, and he still manages to kill ten more before he died. After that he killed the goblin and massacred 70 more along with 10 orcs. After that he was so badly hurt he could not remember anything more. Until he got to Fangorn Forest where his other Human and Elven friends took him to see Giladriel. And she told him some about the ring but he dose not remember any of it. Then he remembers someone telling him that there was an elf in the Green Dragon Inn that could tell him about the ring or would know someone that knew something about the ring.

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Elora]

The Watcher heard her plea, whispering soothing words in a gentle voice. Vanwe drifted deeply through the night. A peace found her that she rarely was blessed with. Visions of cranes rising on wing at sunset, the watery expanse gleaming with the firey sun beneath their outstretched wings. The stars shone in faint pin pricks above them. It was quiet, and at that time she had been safe from pursuit.

Vanwe continued to blend memory with dream, finding glimpses from her childhood where the beauty had outshone the ugliness of her life. The desert was breathtaking at night. She had often watched it breathe beneath a sky of velvet indigo whilst the village slept. She would sit, knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them to conserve warmth, and soak it in. Or she would carve small limps of wood that had not been burnt in the fires of that night.

Where her brow had furrowed and her expression stiffened in anger and fear, was now smooth peace. Serene in sleep, a hint of a smile curving her lips, Vanwe was content to remember as a voice whispered, "The bad things have gone. They cannot harm you." In her dreams, it was true. They had never been able to take her dreams from her.

In the dusky night of her dreamscape, she turned on bare feet that touched cool sand, dancing silently and arms outstretched to the starry sky. "They cannot harm me," she whispered again. "I will not run," Vanwe added in her dream. Joy at her freedom bubbled up from deep within and for the rest of the night her sleep was troubled no more.

Derufin could not know the gift of his words. A shadow had passed, and the world beyond its veil was bright and filled with promise, much like the Elf that lay dreaming...

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel smiled back, charmed by this sweet little mare. And perhaps a little bit by her rider as well. She reached forward and scratched behind the mare's ears, feeling the sleekness of the hide and the rough texture of the mane. The mare whickered, enjoying this extra caress.

Niniel sighed a little. It would almost be worth the inevitable loss if she could really have a friend, for just a little while. But she didn't dare allow anyone to get close to her. They would hate her later. No, just being friendly with someone for a little while, then slipping out of their lives quietly was best. Besides, she didn't need anyone else. She could survive on her own. She didn't need anyone. She didn't. She didn't.

She shook her head. Those were far too gloomy thoughts for this moment. It was a time to enjoy the here and the now, to let herself be a young woman for a little. She would enjoy every minute of this friendship. She would.

[Dynaviir]

Dynaviir watched Niniel and Doienwei for a while, glad to see Niniel smiling. He had seen so few smiles in his life. But he treasured them when they came, and he wished for the peace a smile could bring. He didn't want to hide behind fake smiles anymore. But he was glad, for as he smiled now in the stables he did not need to pretend.

Doienwei seemed to neigh a little more, and she moved her head around to see her master. Again another smile seemed to spread on her face, as if now at peace by her master's joy. She didn't fidget as Niniel stroked her.

Dynaviir now remembered a question. "Do you have a pony?" he asked, without needing to force a smile. "You seem to be good with her, Niniel."

Suddenly he felt the wind blow on his face as he finished, and he looked up. It was coming at an odd angle to enter the stables, but he was glad for the cool air. It was dark now, but he hadn't realised how dark until now. He looked up at what he could see of the sky and saw the stars shining and casting light below. It reminded him of a more peaceful memory, long ago.

[Arestevana]

The stranger sank into a seat opposite the woman feeling quite releived. This feeling vanished almost instantly, however, as she asked "What's your name?" Freezing, the stranger struggled to think up some excuse. He blurted the first thing that popped into his head. "What fool would tell his name to a stranger?" The woman looked irritated, but he was thankful that he sounded somewhat believable, if a bit crazy.

The lady opposite him frowned. At last she spoke. "My name is Megilien. Now let's have yours." Four words and his shelter collapsed. He hesitated. Then, "My name is Randir." Megilien frowned again. "Your name..." Oh. He saw the problem, attempted to correct it. "My mother was halfelven- it was she who named me." It was obvious that the lady was still suspicious. Hurriedly, Randir attempted to change the subject. "But enough of me, lady. What of yourself? Where are you from, and what brings you to the Shire?"

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel smiled back, finally feeling comfortable. Dynaviir wasn't treating her as if she were made of glass any longer, which relieved her greatly. She'd had enough of that in her life, thank you.

"I--I have a-a-a horse, yes. Sh-sh-she's stabled r-r-right over there," Niniel replied, gesturing in the general direction of her gray. It was dim, and there were several horses in that area, so it was hard to tell which horse she was pointing at. It wasn't intentionally misleading, it was habitual. Mistrust had been ingrained in her mind since she was young. Well, younger. She didn't know what her childhood had been like.

"What's her name?" asked Dynaviir curiously.

"She d-d-doesn't h-h-have one."

[piosenniel]

All Posters in the Inn

• When you do edits on your posts, please take time to scroll all the way to the end of the post and remove the previous 'Message edited by:' notations.
  
  This makes the post look much neater, and is the favored way of doing edits in real Game posts.
  
• The Innkeeper and the moderators control the times of day and the conditions in the Shire and the Inn. It gets too confusing if the characters who pop in and out of the Inn try to change the basic format set up.
  
  Please look at the most recent Fact sheet on the page or for a notice placed by the Innkeeper or Moderator that the time of day has changed, or the weather has changed.
  
  Having said this: [b]please note that the Innkeeper, Aman, has moved the timeline on to morning in her following post.

Thanks!

~~ Pio

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Please note: It is now DAY in the Shire - late morning - breakfast is still being served

_____________________________________________


Aman woke later than she should have done, due to having been awokened last night by Vanwe's low, scared moan. The sound had brought up memories in Aman's mind which caused some rather odd dreams...which had given way to more pleasant dreams....

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Aman rubbed her eyes and tried to remember the precise dreams, but she could only conjure up one particular face. A sheepishly smiling face, attached to a body of rather tattered clothes, rubbing his head ruefully....

Shaking her head and getting up, the Innkeeper of the Green Dragon dressed quickly and swept her hair back into the usual bun, before pausing as she caught her reflection in the long mirror which usually remained ignored at one side of the room. She looked at herself carefully and, thoughtfully, removed her hands from her hair, letting it cascade in a nut brown waterfall over her shoulders as she shook her head slightly to fix the parting more, so her fine hair framed her pale face and bright, green eyes. For a moment she simply surveyed herself in the mirror thoughtfully...before the grating sound of a chair or something being scraped back pulled her to her senses. She jerked slightly, as if awakening from a dream, and looked away from the mirror as if embarrassed. But she couldn't help lingering for a moment, wondering whether her hair was better up or down, before sweeping aside such foolishness and pulling it back up into the bun, loosing a few strands at the front so they hung lightly and casually around her face.

Stepping out into the Inn from her room, Aman glanced guiltily to see whether anyone else had noticed her lateness, but from Cami's smile, it didn't seem that she had slept for too much longer, and the hobbit didn't seem to mind. Breathing a small sigh of relief and returning the smile, Aman turned into the bar...and bumped straight into the owner of the rueful face in her dream.

Beren stepped back quickly, nodding good morning to Aman. "Sorry, Miss Aman, I wasm't looking and...anyway, good morning." He seemed to almost visibly remember his manners and added the last bit. Aman returned the slightly bashful smile, pushing away the blush that had started (it only tended to show at the tips and sides of her ears and the back of her neck) and wished Beren a good morning in return. It was only Derufin, watching from one side, who noticed that the bashful smiles matched each other.

Aman realised belatedly that they were both behind the bar and sent a puzzled look to Beren.

"Ah, I was....Derufin just said I may as well help out a bit."

"Aye, as you seemed to be...otherwise preoccupied." Derufin's grin spoke volumes and Aman wondered for a fleeting second whether the stablemaster could indeed read her mind. She glared at him and he excused himself quickly, although the smile did not remove itself. Ruby, clearing a table, seemed to have something stuck in her eye and was evidently trying to blink it out, before she scurried into the kitchen after Derufin.

Aman smiled politely at Beren, served a newcomer to the bar, then went into the kitchen after the others to get her breakfast. Funnily enough, the talking mysteriously stopped as she entered...

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

~*~ TIME CHANGE FOR THE INN ~*~

It is now morning, the weather is still holding pleasant on this fine midsummer day.

[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.

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:

Derufin, a Man from Ethring in the Ringló Vale, is the stablemaster and general handyman/jack of all trades for the Inn.

Vinca Bunce, Hobbit – ‘Cook’ – widowed runs the kitchen

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

Buttercup Brownlock, Hobbit – not married – kitchen assistant and maid

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

Amaranthas Bolger – very old, crotchety Hobbit from Hobbiton, nicknamed ‘The Dragon’

Piosenniel – Elven, Innkeeper prior to Aman; married to Mithadan; has two children: a twin boy and girl; as yet unnamed infants.

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

It is now the next morning at the Inn, on a pleasant mid-summer's day.

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[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Sirithheruwen’s post

Greenlimb woke up feeling refreshed and ready to meet the day, whatever it may bring. He drank many buckets of wellwater before he decided to start his search again at the Inn, with the Halflings.

As he walked in, many turned to look at him, but he smiled comfortingly back and the little people turned back to their drinks. He asked everyone in the little room if they had seen any entwives. Some just moved to another table, some just said no, and a polite few thought about it carefully before they replied, "No, sir, sorry, sir."

Greenlimb sighed and made his way out of the Inn to explore, and maybe, just maybe, find what he was looking for. He smiled to himself. This will be harder than I thought.

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]