The Green Dragon Inn - Part 10

[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.

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Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

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 from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

Fredgar Hornblower – local Shiriff from Hobbiton – played by Fool of a Took
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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.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.
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IT IS NOW LATE AFTERNOON IN THE SHIRE, NEAR SUPPERTIME. THE WEATHER IS PLEASANT.

[Arry]

At the pump near the stables, Alwin laved his hands and face. It had been a productive day. Rolling up his sleeves above his elbows, he let the cold water gush over his hands as he rubbed the dirt from them. He pulled out a clean, if ragged, handkerchief and wet it thoroughly, rubbing it over his begrimed face. Last he rinsed it and set it round the back of his neck; the late afternoon was still warm, and he welcomed the coolness of the water against his skin.

He had tended to the larger garden at the back of the Inn in the morning – putting small pilings of hay about the hills of potatoes. ‘Taters,’ he reminded himself, chuckling. ‘That’s what the little folk in these parts call them.’ Nestled between the hilly rows of tubers were the big fat onions, some just sprouting up, some ready to be taken up and braided together to hang in the pantry once it was done. There were beans, too. He strung them up on poles, securing them with lengths of twine. And beets, those tasty, sweet red jewels stood proudly, their delicious green leaves moving gently in the evening breezes. At one end of the staples’ garden were the sprawling squash plants, their large leaves hiding the green treasures waiting silently beneath them. Tomorrow, he thought, he would take some of the chicken droppings and work them into the soil . . .

On his way to the stables, he looked at the other garden a ways from his that a certain Hobbit lass had taken the time to plant for the Inn’s kitchen. Herbs for cooking and for medicines. And a nice plot of all those little leafy plants needed for salads. And there with care were placed the smaller vegetables the cook would surely need to create her offerings. Little spring onions standing like soldiers in rows, carrots waving dark green fronds, and cucumbers, and the little bushes of pattypan squashes. He had seen her, the gardener who had done this, taking time from her stone hauling to tend carefully her little plot. Her demeanor, usually serious and a bit downcast as if something heavy weighed on her, changed when she plunged her fingers into the rich soil. The furrows in her brow smoothed out; her hands fell to their task in a sure and gentle manner. He wondered what had caused such a young one to bear so heavy a burden.

At the stables, he gave a satisfied smile at the stacks of wood shingles that now were being transported to the crew of Hobbits who were using them on the Inn’s roof. They had already laid down a layer of pitchy tar to seal the planks that covered the Inn’s pitched roof, and now they hammered in a continuous rhythm. Placing each row of wide, cedar shingles carefully and securing them with nails along the laths. They’d joked with him, saying that since he had been so kind as to peel the logs for the shingles, wouldn’t he like to be the one to drive the first nail home. Laughing, he had declined. His chin nodding at the tall ladders the reached up to the roof, he let his eyes grow wide as if in mock horror at the thought of having to climb one of them.

Not quite hungry yet, Alwin made his way to the old oak tree. Folding the cloak he’d grabbed from beside his pallet in the stables, he sat down on his makeshift cushion and pulled out his worn leathern pouch from a pocket in the folds of his robe. The leaves above him rustled slightly, and he glanced up with a smile. In his hand was his old wooden pipe, retrieved from the pouch. He held it up toward the branches above saying she should tell him if it bothered her, and he would move. Dipping the darkened bowl of the pipe into the pouch, he filled it with Westman’s-weed, of what sort he could not recall, the pouch having been filled and refilled so many times.

‘Ah!’ he sighed wearily, getting up once again. ‘I should have done this on the way to here.’ A few strides brought him to the cooking fire. Crouching down, he pulled a slim, sliver of wood from the fire and lit the pipe. Once done, the leaves well caught with the flame, he returned to the tree and settled down for a pleasant smoke before supper.

[Primrose Bolger]

Kiera was sitting on the oak's wide branch, stringing some pebbles from the stream together with a length of thin leather cord. The pebbles had taken some time to drill through with her little hand tool, and then, of course, she had needed to smooth and polish them a bit. The ones she had picked were glittery in the filtered light beneath the oak leaves as she held them up on the tallowed cord, chosen for the bits of crystal mixed in the dark gray of the river stone. Between them she put short spacers made from slender wands of willow – the one that wept near the little stream. In the center of the string, she affixed the sky-blue robin’s feather she had found in her little pouch. She could see it now, catching the breeze as if to fly away.

Done, she held the little necklace up. It would go about the neck of the little statue she had carved for the Inn. Stone, water, air, and wood. It would protect the Inn from unwelcome creatures and ward off misfortune. Kiera drew out the small stone Drughu figure her mother had given her when she’d set out on this journey. It had kept her well these many months; she hoped hers would serve the Inn as well.

Engrossed in her work, she did not hear the old man approach until he spoke. Lying flat on her stomach, she pushed the leaves apart a little and stared down at him. His pipe held aloft, he spoke softly. She grinned at him, shaking her head to show she would not mind the smoke. Her own people smoked the wild, sweet leaf that grew on the edges of their forest. It was of one kind only in her land, but her travels had shown that other folk had many varieties of it that they used.

When he had returned from lighting his pipe, she peeped through the leaves again. Little rings of smoke drifted up to her, and she sniffed them appreciatively. Daring a little more bravery than usual to her, she reached one thin nut brown arm toward the old fellow. In her hand was clasped the end of her own pipe, and she knocked it gently on the oak’s trunk, drawing the attention of the man below.

[Esgallhugwen]

A dark chesnut horse leisurely made her way toward the Green Dragon Inn. The pleasant breeze of late afternoon ran its fingers through her master's light golden hair. He was a young man from Rohan, Aldor was his name, his mares name was Nessa.

"See dear girl, I told you it wouldn't take that long to get here-"

He stopped short and took a look at the goings on in front of him. The roof was being put on the Inn and there was still evidence that a fire had taken place. Aldor trotted a bit closer and dismounted quickly and smoothly off Nessa's back, looking about him in wonder at all the bustling people.

He briskly walked up to a hooded man, he didn't seem all that busy and Aldor wished to know if he could be of any assistance, it was in his nature to help anyone he could.

"Excuse me sir, by any chance would you know what befell this place and if I may be of any help, I just arrived and was a bit taken aback at what my eyes have seen".

The hooded figure turned to him, "I too have just arrived, naught but a few moments ago, and am also seeking to be of assistance" he replied. Aldor nodded his head in contemplation "well its best we get to it then and find out who's in charge. The name's Aldor, what name do you go by?"

"Kiyvan" he replied.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

"Yes Snaveling," Roa said, "I think you do owe us all an explanation."

Snaveling was a thief, and a liar; he had no compunction about doing whatever underhanded trick was necessary to see that he benefited from any given situation. He had sneaked, slunk, manipulated and mislead. He had run away from people who needed his help, and put the lives of others in danger when it presented an advantage to him. He helped no-one. He took no risks for anyone's advantage but his own. But in all his life he had never, ever, felt the cold thrill of murderous thought enter his mind.

Until now.

Tobias Hornblower was easily the most ridiculous and simple-minded being that Snaveling had ever had the misfortune to become entangled with. At this very moment, as he bobbed before Snaveling, poking his finger upward at the man who wanted him very much dead, he seemed utterly oblivious to the fact that he was exposing them both for all their perfidity and constructions before the very people upon whom they had been practicing them. Snaveling was utterly speechless with rage. He felt his face grow dark and dangerous, his hands began to twitch and then, something happened that had not happened to Snaveling in so long, that he was the last person there to realise what it was.

He began to laugh. Not the malicious cackle of glee that he usually gave vent to at the misfortune of others. And not the sly, thin, cruel sound that he sometimes uttered when cutting the throat of bird or a rabbit that his trap had caught but not slain. But an honest, healthy, heartfelt laugh, the likes of which he no longer knew he was even capable of. The laugh rose above the heads of those around him, and carried through the yard. And at the sound of its echo returning to him, Snaveling could not help but laugh the more. His sides ached, and tears came down his face. He fell backward against the trestle to catch his balance, and his sides heaved with the effort it took to fill his lungs with air.

Roa was the first to join him, and Valthalion was soon to follow. Galadel's musical laughter mingled with their own, and like the laughter of all Elves, it was as though she were weeping with a joy that went deeper than the mortal heart. The last to succumb was Toby, for his rage was great and his confusion mighty, but even he could not resist.

"Why," Snaveling gasped when he could finally draw breath, "why did I confess? BECAUSE I DID IT, YOU WONDERFULLY RIDICULOUS LITTLE HOBBIT!!!!" Snaveling fought to control himself, in order to explain. Gulping down his laughter he struggled toward Toby and said more quietly. "I can't explain it any better than that, my friend -- yes! I call you my friend you miraculous rogue, and so I hope you will call me. I confessed because I did steal the purse, and I was in an agony of pain and torment because of it, and there was no other way to make it stop."

"But why," Toby gasped, "why are you laughing?"

"Because I just this moment realised how ridiculous the whole thing has been. Do you realise Toby that I have spent an entire week calculating, lying, decieving, worrying and being tortured by a purse of gold!? A purse of gold!! Do you have any idea, how dark my nights have been? How I've longed, each evening, to die rather than face the painful hours until morning? Do you realise that every day I have been so possessed by thoughts of that stupid little purse of gold that I did not feel the sun on my skin, or take the time to enjoy the wind on my face? Toby," he grabbed Tobias by the shoulders and looked into his face. "It just wasn't worth it any more!"

Toby looked like he was going to explode -- with mirth or wrath Snaveling could not tell -- but the look on that rat-like face sent him into another paroxysm of laughter that felt like starshine in midsummer.

[Kransha]

The hobbit stared up, looking with a mixture of utter confusion and perfect understanding at Snaveling. He himself was unsure which of the two emotions was coursing steadily through his veins now. The man before him laughed, a laughing that took Tobias Hornblower a moment to recover from. The heartiness and jovial light quality of the laugh was so unfitting of the venomous man that Toby for a fleeting second was not sure if it was indeed Snaveling who he was speaking to. His eyes, instead of widening in surprise, half closed, focused without moving on the suddenly warm face of his perfidious compatriot. His mouth practically fell open, and the dull tongue within that mouth hinted at moving, but no words came. The gentlehobbit just kept looking at the expression gracing Snaveling’s face and hearing the man’s kinder words ringing gently in his head.

He’s right. What have I gained from all this pointless deception? I had an unmatched set of cooking utensils and some silver coins, which are now lost to me. Why did I persist and why have I waited so long to question that? There is something I am missing here, but I will not find it out if I seek it. Perhaps the best way is the one that lies before me. At least I would no longer be antagonized. A new hobbit I would be, turning over a new leaf, so to speak. No one in Longbottom would pay any mind, but the blemish upon my reputation would be wiped clean…And no one would mind if I still borrowed some trivial little mementos every now an then.

“You are a very peculiar man, Snaveling, but I begin to see the meaning of your words.” Toby’s smile was no longer forced, but true. The emotional gesture began simply as the corners of his mouth began to leap up slowly, his entire face soon becoming engulfed by a warm-hearted grin. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief and strange new happiness, Toby continued. “I could still learn much from you and those like you. Perhaps now we can be of more ease around this place and less wary. What you’ve said is most certainly enlightening, Snaveling, and I assure you, I have taken it to heart. This is surely an interesting new leaf you’ve overturned, and I intend to follow suit.” He put his hands on Snaveling’s, which were still grasping his arms, and breathed deeply again, regaining all his lost composure. He looked calmly at Snaveling, who also settled and stepped back from the smaller hobbit.

“On that note, now may be the most ideal of times to sit down, have a good draught of Longbottom Leaf, and we can finally get around to discussing the little matter of that house in the Southfarthing you desired.” Toby Hornblower genuinely grinned, reaching into his sequined vest pocket for his pipe.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Regin took a large puff on his pipe stuffed with Gondorian Pride as he sat back against the massive oak tree. He listened as the wind wove through the leaves and swayed the branches gently producing a soothing sound, calming him. Greatly stressed from working for hours on end with very little rest, he had taken a respite to smoke his pipe and relax. Regin lazily watched the sun set in the late afternoon sky streaking the horizon with dazzling oranges, reds, and violets. At that moment, he felt himself touch something greater, and a smile spread across his hardened face. Finishing his tobacco he went down to put in a bit more work before dinner was ready. Regin mused that he would have to thank Carl later for the tobacco and tell him how much he had enjoyed it.

As he walked back towards the building, Regin noticed two new men who looked as if they had just arrived at the Dragon. One of them appeared to be a man from Rohan who rode atop a beautiful chestnut mare. Both wore hoods and seemed bewildered as to the situation with the partially built Inn. Always eager for new workers, Regin walked over and introduced himself.

“Hello, my name is Regin Hardhammer and I am the head of reconstruction for the Green Dragon Inn. Welcome to both of you; we are glad that you have come here to assist us in our task. What are your names? Judging from your baffled looks, you seem to be unaware of what occurred here. Allow me to explain. You see there was a fire started by an unfortunate cooking accident on the part of a young hobbit lass trying to fix breakfast. Although the blaze was completely unintentional, the girl was almost arrested, and would have gone to jail without some quick thinking by yours truly.” Regin beamed as he pointed to his chest and took a while to bask in his own glory. Then he continued.

“Anyway because of me she is serving her time working on the reconstruction of the Inn, cleaning up the mess she started, instead of sitting behind bars. The fire damaged the Inn so severely that we had to rebuild it from the foundation up. After being put in charge, I started working immediately with a team of highly dedicated folk from the Dragon. We progressed rapidly, although not without our share of headaches, including beams crashing down from the sky and nearly killing several workers. We should be finished before too long, but we can certainly use your help in the meanwhile. Both of you are welcome to pitch in and lend some more strong hands towards the rebuilding effort. You may cut shingles for the roof, shape beams for the walls, or nail down the boards on the floor. I put my fellow Dwarf Fungrim in charge of construction of the fireplace in the Commons. He is almost finished there, but may still need some help. Let me know if there's something special that you have an interest in doing.”

[Child of the 7th Age]

~*~* NOTICE OF TIME CHANGE COMING SOON ~*~*

After midnight on Sunday, CST, we will be moving the timeline in the Inn forward 10 days.

The rebuilding of the Inn will be finished. Guests are welcome to tour the building and have a look at the improvements. We will also be preparing for a party and celebration to commemorate the reopening of the Dragon. Meriadoc Brandybuck is expected to attend, coming all the way from Buckland, and it is anticipated that Cook will also be returning.

Please join in the preparations so that we may start the party shortly.

Thanks!

~*~ Cami Goodchild, Shire Moderator
~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Arry]

Alwin had to stand up to reach the pipe held by the little hand. It was a lovely piece, the bowl of rich brown briarwood, with a long curved blackthorn stem. The bowl was thick, the outside of it carved into the shape of an acorn, lustrous from the polishing it had undergone. ‘Very nice,’ he murmured, turning it round in his hands. ‘Lovely, really.’

Her brown eyes regarded him in a serious manner as he spoke. He shifted his stance beneath the tree, stepping back a pace to see her face more easily. Dipping her pipe into his pouch he filled the bowl loosely then tamped it down a bit. With a piece of straw he plucked from his cloak, he lit her pipe from his own.

He stretched up once again, holding the pipe aloft. Surprised by the sound of her voice, he nearly dropped it . . .

[Primrose Bolger]

‘Have a care not to burn yourself, old one.’

Kiera’s fingers grasped for the stem and pulled the pipe aloft. She had not meant to startle him with her simple thank-you, but he had stumbled when she spoke, an ember from the bowl tumbling down the fabric of his sleeve. He nodded at her caution and with a quick flick of his fingers sent the ember flying to the ground. She nodded in approval as he moved to grind it out with the toe of his boot.

Both of them settled back into the comfortable embrace of the tree; he on the ground and she above among the leaves. A comfortable silence ensued as the smoke from their pipes rose skyward, broken only by the occasional clatter of each pipe stem as it moved along the edges of their teeth, seeking a more comfortable portion of the lower lip on which to cushion itself.

"Well Aldor" Kiyvan said with almost a tune in his words "let us go look for a place that might need or want our help".Aldor nodded and the two began to look around.

" Anyone in need of a hand" Kiyvan called out trying to alert anyone he could to his words. In wait for a reply he pulled up what looked like a finely crafted chair indeed an rested his feet.

[Envinyatar]

‘Now, who’s written this do you suppose?’ Buttercup held up the folded letter that Halfred had just delivered. An errand rider on a sweat lathered horse had brought it in, directing him to deliver it at once to Mistress Buttercup. ‘The one who sends it has paid well for it,’ the rider had said, clinking a few silver coins into the hands of the surprised Hobbit. With a tap of his heels against his mount’s flanks he was away, down the East Road, heading for Breeland. Halfred had run to fetch Dumpling, and with a wave of his hand to his dear wife, had driven the pony as fast as he would go to the Green Dragon.

‘A man,’ wheezed Halfred, his exertions in getting to the Inn overtaking him, ‘the rider said it was a man who handed him the letter.’ Dumpling snorted and nudged the Shiriff/Postmaster in the back. His lip curled up as if to comment on the fact that if anyone should be wheezing it should be him, who had borne the stout Hobbit to the Inn at such a fast clip.

Buttercup turned the letter over. It was sealed with a plain white wax and it looked as if someone had just pressed his finger into it to secure the seal. ‘Well, open it, you ninny,’ said Ruby. She had come up at the sight of Halfred's delivery and now stood peering down at the letter, her hands twitching, wanting to rip the missive open herself. Buttercup ran her forefinger beneath the folded over flap and shook the one page open. Her eyes went wide as she scanned the bottom of the letter for the signature.

‘It’s from Derufin!’ She read the hastily penned letter in a low voice as Ruby huddled near.

^*^*^*^*^

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

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

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

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

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

- D –
Derufin, his mark

^*^*^*^*^

‘Oh dear,’ whispered Ruby to Buttercup. The late afternoon seemed to suddenly grow chill and her skin prickled with growing anxiety. Both Hobbits peered down the path to the Inn, expecting any moment to see a wagon drawn by half-dead horses come flying round the bend – the ghastly form of Vinca Bunce, Cook, standing by the driver, curls flying, her finger pointing at the Inn and fire in her eyes. ‘We’d best tell Miz Aman about this.’

Buttercup grabbed her friend by the arm and pulled her along pell-mell, knocking over chairs and bumping into workers without so much as a ‘sorry’ or ‘excuse me’ as they hurried by . .

[Amanaduial the archer]

As she sent a delighted Carl on his way, plans of Pride-growing running delightedly through his mind, she saw Ruby and Buttercuo hurrying towards her with, apparently, utmost haste, a look of grim, determined panic on their face. It was not an expression to inspire any sort of gladness in Aman's heart. She stepped forward out of the cool shadows to greet them and Ruby was the first to speak, brandishing a piece of paper as she garbled what might have passed for an explanation. In a different hemisphere maybe. Aman held up her hands against the torrent of words calmingly. "Woah, woah, slow down - who died?" she smiled, her expression light even though her heart was sinking.

Ruby brandished the piece of paper at her again with a squeak of "It's from Derufin! About Cook!" The Innkeeper plucked the parchment from the hobbit maid's hand, noting Derufin's hand, not very familiar to the Innkeeper herself, and began to read.

After a second, she turned as pale as the hobbits had a moment before and clutched at the wooden scaffolding nearby, ignoring shouts from above when Regin quelled them. The dwarf looked over, concerned at the Innkeeper's so-sudden change of demeanour. "Everything alright, lass?"

Aman didn't quite trust herself to speak and simply nodded mutely before looking back at the two servers. For an instant, a trick of sound caused her to think horses were coming down the driveway and she leapt aside, staring down wildly, expecting to see the doom-laden wagon bearing the vengeful Vinca at any second, then, when thankfully greeted with no such apparition, looked guiltily back at the pair in front of her. She opened and closed her mouth once, waving the letter limply and Buttercup nodded haplessly. "Indeed, Miz Aman, indeed!"

[Esgallhugwen]

Aldor's emerald green cloak shifted as he stroked Nessa's muzzle, listening to the work that still needed to be done. " A pleasure to meet you Master Dwarf, my name is Aldor" he pulled back his hood revealing brilliant light golden hair and crystal blue eyes, he stepped forward and shook Regin's hand.

"I'll be glad to help with whatever I can, I've been told I'm quite capable with handiwork, perhaps I'll begin by nailing the floor boards down" Aldor gestured toward the Inn.

"Very good then Aldor" answered Regin "A hammer and a box of nails should be inside on a table" Aldor nodded and made his way to the Inn, but quickly turned back to his horse "stay" he told her, she neighed and walked over to the shade of the large oak tree.

He rubbed his hands together before taking hold of the hammer and set to work, intent on every nail going in perfectly straight. Aldor dropped into a rhythm and began whistling to himself.

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa was walking around the grounds of the newly finished Inn. They had acomplished much in a short time. Roa had known from experience that people were capable of great things when forced into hard times, but she had not been expecting things to be done so soon. Roa thought about all that happened since she arrived that fateful morning. She had made a place for herself here, and she could feel her attachment to the Inn which she had labored so greatly over. Soon, breakfast would be served from a newly finished kitchen, and tours would start to veiw the improvments. Already, preparations were being made for a re-opening party. Hobbits certainly know how to throw a good party, she thought to herself. Supplies were coming from all over the Shire.

Of course, this meant that Valthalion would be coming to discuss their agreement. She wondereed what he would say now. If he had not learned his value yet, she would have to find another way of teaching him. Roa decided to seek council from Galadel concerning this matter.

Galadel had been a great friend to her over this time. It was truly a gift to converse with someone of her wisdom, and Roa treasured their time together. Her tonic slowly helped Roa's memory return. There were still pieces missing, such as how she had been trapped in the cellar. Perhaps she would never remember, adn Roa did not know why that bothered her so much.

As she neared she could smell the food being cooked for breakfast. She would join the others for morning meal soon. Well, more likely it would only be her and Toby again. Valthalion, or Val, as she was now accostumed to calling him- a name started by Toby, had taken to helping with breakfast. Galadel did not eat much, and would come in later, after gathering herbs or making helpful drinks for the tired workers. Of course, now that the Inn was finished she might join them. Her and Toby ate alone, and this suited her fine. Her discussions with Galadel were a treasure indeed, but the conversations with Toby were good for her soul. He never failed to make her laugh.

Then there was the matter of Snaveling. He had been faring better since his confession. Roa stifled a chuckle. In truth, it was as though his soul had been freed from the darkest prison and the heaviest burdens. Well, perhaps that was not far from the mark. But something was still bothering him. He was avoiding her more and more. Why, she could not say. Galadel would only say something was keeping his heart. Perhaps it was the trouble of his home. Today she would try to convince him to approach her King.

[rutslegolas]

Harold had finished keeping the chairs and tables in the common room after it was polished with some help from the lads in the Inn. He looked to admire his work and indeed it was a very well done.And tiring work it also had been so he went into the newly repaired Inn, it looked amazing .

Looking to have some fresh air he took a beer mug from Buttercup and went outside near the stables and below the oak tree he saw a grim looking man (one of the big people) smoking his pipe at ease.Harold intended to know who this grim looking man was .So he went near the tree and bowed low to the man and asked "What may you be doing master and may I join you ?",looking intently at the his pipe.

The man got up and bowed low too,"I would be pleased to have your company,my name is Alwin and pray what may be yours?".Harold laughed this little hobbit was most gracious"My name is Harold Brandybuck from the Southfarthing."

So Harold sat down with Alwin and took out his pipe and smoked too,he offered Alwin some of his pipeweed a kind of weed similar to the new Gondorian Pride it was.Alwin liked the weed and wanted to know from where did Harold get it.And Harold explained that his wife grew the weed in his little garden.And then the went into the Inn to have some ale and food.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hawthorne Brandybuck:

Hawthorne slipped inside the back door of the Dragon and hastily ran through the kitchen, being careful not to stop or get in the way of Ruby or Buttercup. Whenever she could, the young hobbit had made a point to detour safely around the stove and ovens, but this time she was carrying a large number of pails and gardening implements, and it would have been awkward to walk all the way around. Once she had made it into the Common Room, Hawthorne gave a sigh of relief. Her face relaxed into a broad smile as she made her way through the front of the Dragon and continued on to the small chamber under the stairwell that Aman had recently assigned to her.

Like most of the other guests and staff, Hawthorne was amazed at how quickly the new Inn had gone up and how handsome the new building looked. Everything looked clean and neat and tidy, with floors highly polished and walls newly whitewashed. Her own herb and salad garden that she'd established in the rear of the courtyard was coming along nicely. The tiny plants were poking their sturdy heads above the ground. She'd worked hard to keep the beds free of weeds, and to make sure there was a wide assortment of medicinal and culinary herbs.

As she dumped down the gardening tools in the corner of her room, she ran over to the cupboard to retrieve her fishing pole. Now that the greater part of the building effort was over, Hawthorne spent most of her time helping out in the gardens or wandering down to The Water to catch fish to supplement the Inn's dinner menu.

In any case she wanted to make sure and spend a good part of the day off the grounds of the Dragon. She'd heard a number of rumors that Cook and her entourage were just a short ways distant, and might even make it back to the Inn by late afternoon. Everything Hawthorne had heard about Cook had made her extremely reticent to meet the great lady. Ruby and Buttercup had tossed out several grim comments indicating Hawthorne would not have long to live once Cook reigned supreme over the kitchen again.

Just as she was about to scamper down the corridor and bolt out the front door of the Inn, her old boss Regin Hardhammer approached and asked for her help in planning the party that was scheduled to begin later that evening. Despite her reluctance to stay at the Inn or run into Cook, Hawthorne didn't want to let Regin down, so she promised that she'd return shortly to help. She'd been careful to volunteer her services for decorations and entertainment rather than having anything to do with the preparation of the meal.

For now, however, she grabbed up her fishing pole again, and two nets that she'd made, running down in the direction of the Water.

[Witch_Queen]

Cree
Cree opened her eyes. The last thing she could remember was tasting some stew the sheiff had given them. She sat up and peared around to see if she could find Grimm. Avalon was perched outside. Cree could hear the crow. "Good morning to you too, Avalon." Cree stood up and looked at the figure beside her. "Grimm, wake up its morning already. The inn is almost complete. I would like to find Aman and see what I can accomplish today. I hear a party has been scheduled for later." Cree began shaking Grimm. Her patience had grown short over the years.

She walked over to Avalon. "Get him up will you?" The bird nodded her head and flew over to Grimm. "Get up." Cree could understand what Avalon was saying. Though altogether it just sounded like screeches. "Avalon, that's enough." Cree smiled as Grimm woke up. Everything is back to normal

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

Aduthondiel
Aduthondiel looked over to Crystal who seemed to be taking in her every word. "I'm sorry. It seems that I have been rambling on about everything and nothing at the same time. I seriously have to get out more." She dropped her head to see the grass beneath her feet. "All I do is talk about life and death and how everything should have been." Aduthondiel felt bad about eveything still.

" All that is good is never alone, all that is evil is never grown. All life should be held as a precious item. After all we never know when our time is up and the horn is blown to end our.." Aduthondiel stopped talking. Those words haunted her from the time she had left Eryn Lasgalen. Her father had always told her to watch what she was doing. Aduthondiel had only ignored him until now. "Now I understand what my father had meant all that time. You, Crystal, have helped me realize that life is worth all the gold in Middle Earth and then some."

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

It had been an odd week for Snaveling. As the renewed Inn had been completed he had felt a change no less profound come over him. He had laughed more and enjoyed the labour that he put into the rebuilding. He had sat with Toby for hours together and listened to him ramble on about the doings of the Shire. And while not all of what the hobbit had to say was of interest to him, he found the comings and goings, the births, the misadventures and the little scandals that kept the imagination of these people to be refreshing. Wordlessly they had remarked on the changes in each other, as both forgot about the gold and the silver that they had gained in the fire, and then lost. But, as Snaveling had learned from Toby in one of his interminable and circular tales about the Shire-folk, “a fox doesn’t stop stealing chickens just because he loses his tail.”

Just the day before yesterday a large group of hobbits from far to the west of the Shire had arrived and inquired about the cost of stabling their ponies. Unfortunately for them, they had inquired of Toby and Snaveling as they were taking a break from the reconstruction effort to have a bit of a smoke. Without even having to confer with Toby, Snaveling said “Two shillings.” The travellers quickly handed over the coins, and Toby and he had quickly spent them on the some of the finest leaf that either of them had ever sampled – Gondorian Pride, or some such it was called.

It was the last of this that Snaveling was smoking as he reclined against the stable wall, soaking up the first of the morning sun. He watched as Roa headed for the Inn, undoubtedly to have her breakfast with Toby. Snaveling had been avoiding her for days and was in no hurry to face her now. The memory of his actions in the cellar had been crowding into his mind with increasing force of late, and he was beginning to fear that the Ranger might remember them herself. He did not know what would happen when she did. He had confessed to stealing the purse, but Roa had not – as yet – released him from her bond, and Snaveling was reluctant to demand that she do. The truth be told, he had become somewhat wary of Roa in the time that he had known her. He had spent a lot of time chatting with Val in the last few days, as Roa had seemed to delight in assigning them to work together. The youth’s fascination with Roa, and his obvious affection – bordering on idolatry – for the Ranger, had only increased Snaveling’s discomfort toward her. She was mighty indeed, and not the person he had taken her for at first. Rarely did Snaveling misjudge people, but he was beginning to worry that he had done so with Roa…perhaps badly.

So concerned was Snaveling with what might happen should Roa remember the cellar, he had contemplated simply slipping out of the Inn one night and making for the Wild. But he was sure that Roa would pursue him should he flee, and while he was woodcrafty he knew that he could not elude a Dunedain Ranger. And there was another consideration, one that surprised him. One of the topics of conversation that he and Toby seemed to turn to again and again was the prospect of his buying some land to the south of the Shire and settling down. While such an idea, on the surface, should have appeared loathsome to Snaveling, there was something about it that appealed to him. He was sure that he did not want to live in the Shire amid all these halflings, but the idea of a house of his own had a magical kind of air to it…like the memory of an old song that was just out of reach of his conscious thought. For a moment he thought he saw something in his mind, but it was gone and he shrugged to ward off a sudden chill that swept through him, and he sucked on his pipe to drive away the terrible melancholy that he felt suddenly well up the back of his throat. Such feelings had been coming to him more and more lately, and he had no idea why.

Galadel was at his side, smiling down at him. Snaveling had given up the effort to dislike the Lady and had taken to speaking with her whenever he could. At first, they had shared their knowledge of herbs and plants. Snaveling had been able to tell her about the herblore of his land and she had told him much about the properties of plants both new to him and long familiar. It was not a friendship that had grown up between them; Snaveling very much doubted that anything like that would ever be possible between himself and one of the Eldar, but there was companionship, and an odd kind of respect. Still, something about the Elf disturbed him. He was sure, now, that she had played a role in his recovery from whatever curse it was that had assailed him over the gold, but still she seemed to want more of him. Of late, she had suggested that he spend more time with Roa, and just yesterday she had commented on how the Ranger’s memory was improving daily. Snaveling was beginning to worry that perhaps the Elf knew something about what had happened in the cellar, and that she might tell Roa of it.

This morning, however, their talk was of birds. Galadel was appalled that Snaveling’s knowledge was confined to hunting them, but he knew things of their ways that she did not. Galadel, for her part, was able to tell Snaveling much about their ways and their manners when amongst themselves. Eventually, however, the conversation turned to Roa once more.

“Why do you avoid her, Snaveling? There is much that you can still do to help yourself should you open your heart to her.”

Snaveling felt his face go hard as his heart quailed within him. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean My Lady,” he stumbled. “I listen to her and do as she bids.”

“That is not what I mean,” she replied. “I think, Snaveling that the time has come for you to listen to your heart and do as it bids.” She looked at him but he did not reply. The truth of her words, if not their full meaning, sank into him. “When you are ready, I will be with you. Do not fear Roa. She is indeed a powerful Woman and a dangerous enemy to those who do her or her King wrong. But you can trust to her heart and to her wisdom.” Galadel rose and walked off, leaving Snaveling to finish his pipe in concentrated silence.

[Will Witfoot]

Fungrim surveyed the almost finnished fireplace with pride. It had been a long time indeed since he had last been called up to do any building, but he thought it had come together rather nicelly. The only thing that needed work now was the chimney, and perhaps he might add a few finnishing touches to the hearth itself.

He turned to Indy who stood beside him, looking at the stonework with the same air of satisfaction as himself. Aswell she might, for she had more than done her share of work, if you took into notice her age. She had been an eager student, too, taking in what little he had to teach her about massonry. More than that, she had provided him with the much needed company. It was funny, really, how much easier it was to be around a child than even his own kin.

And, he admitted, she had been good company. Usually she chattered endlessly about almost anything, from the immediate subject of the work they were doing to the things she liked to do, her hopes and fears. Sometimes they would both simply work in a complete, tranquil silence.

"Well, Indy my lass, we've done a good job. Now lets try to get the chimney finnished today, shall we?".

[Feared Half-Elf]

Elkamia awoke, and stretched, balancing carefully on the large branch of the elm. She'd been at the Dragon since the fire, and was detirmined to see it to the end of it's refurbishment. She'd been building as much as the menfolk, and now she saw her own work on the Dragon.

Of course, there was the name, The Green Dragon Inn above the door, but her own gift to the Inn was there too. A large dragon, carved from the wood of a fallen tree she had found a few nights ago, was alongside the name. Carving had always been a hobby of hers, and the dragon carving was a gift to Aman, and everyone who would enjoy it's presence.

Of course, some people wandering around were still smoking that disgusting weed, but she'd grown used to it and it didn't bother her so much now. It was still nasty, but she could ignore it.

She swung her leg over the branch and dropped a few metres to the ground. One of the first things she'd learnt as a young elf was how to drop from a tree and land. People around the place were waking up and heading to the more or less finished common room, where breakfast was now being served.

Walking into the Inn, she greeted Aman and a few of the others that had been here for a while. It was impossible not to make a friend or two here, even being a quite elf who preferred silence to talk most of the time.

[piosenniel]

~*~* NOTICE OF TIME CHANGE IN THE INN ~*~*

The timeline in the Inn has moved forward by 10 days.

The rebuilding of the Inn is largely finished, with only a few final touches still to be done. Guests are welcome to tour the building and have a look at the improvements.

We also need to plan a party and celebration to commemorate the reopening of the Dragon. Meriadoc Brandybuck is expected to attend, coming all the way from Buckland. Cook will also be returning, although possibly with murderous intent in mind towards whoever caused the destruction of her beloved kitchen.

Please join in the preparations so that we may start the party shortly.

It is now early morning. The day is clear and sunny.

Thanks!

~*~ Cami Goodchild, Shire Moderator
~*~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Kransha]

Heavy eyelids fluttered open very suddenly and focused pupils darted from side to side, seeing only a vision blurred by stunning morning light and the haze of sleep still lifting. Toby Hornblower’s scraggly fingers shot towards his face, eagerly clawing the sand from his eyes as he thrust himself forward excitedly with a swift springing motion from his legs, which had been tucked neatly beneath him as he slept against the wall of the Green Dragon stable. As his vision stabilized, he saw the glinting beams of sun piercing those subtle slits between the wooden planks of the stable foundation and door. He felt the warmth of a new day as he exercised his legs, still tired from sleep.

It had been ten days since the final undesirable incident with Snaveling, Roa, and Galadel. After that final stirring conversation with the seemingly converted man, Snaveling, Toby had also been altered. He felt so much warmer now, both inside and out. He was more eager to be friendly, to be jovial, and to be simply happy with life, not asking for more when he could have wholesome, uncomplicated merriment to elevate his weary spirit. He had felt so much more swelling emotion in the pit of his cold heart as his three new compatriots treated him more as a friend than a counterpart. He’d spent time with Snaveling, telling the man countless stories about life in the Southfarthing to relieve his own nostalgic hopes and customs of the Little Folk. He’d regaled Roa with his semi-preposterous anecdotes that he’d heard from his long gone brethren in Longbottom. He’d imbibed more pipe-weed then aver before in his long life after taking a great liking to the leaf known as “Gondorian Pride” which hailed from Whitwell and given his entire lifestyle a decent amount of stern contemplation.

Tobias thrust the door open, trotting vigorously out onto the grounds; he looked out at the rebuilt inn, bathed in gentle sunlight that coruscated like gleaming honey over the structure. The heavens were cloudless and as blue as a calm sea, with the luminous golden circlet hovering just over the horizon and slowly moving higher into the red-tinged morning sky. Toby breathed in the air and smiled comfortably, closing his eyes and taking in the fabricated smell of success and tranquility. He walked briskly towards the inn, passing by the early risers who had begun to tie up all the loose ends around the now nearly finished inn, working hard to get everything done so a celebration of the reconstruction's completion could begin without delay.

Toby Hornblower knew that he had done many foul things in his day (many that his relatives in Longbottom were still oblivious of) and he was completely aware that he was not the best of hobbits, but the past week and days had given him the time to contemplate his illicit hobbies and redemption. He had figured out a way to redeem himself in what way he could. The elder gentlehobbit knew that he could not make amends for all his shrouded behavior, but he could indeed try to make some reparations for the hardships he’d caused. It could be his general apology to those he had wronged and a gift to the hardworking folk…and, he suspected it would be a good one.

He headed over to the area where breakfast was being served and sat down hastily, eager to eat.

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa sat down next to Toby, who was busily eating his breakfast. "And how are you this fine day, Master Hobbit?" she asked with a smile. "Quite well today, madam, quite well. And you, my lady?" They went through the usual morning talk. Toby would talk of the latest news in the Shire, and Roa would regale him with some good stories of far away places. He never seemed particularly interested in such things, but every hobbit enjoys a good story. Toby also realized that Roa liked to speak of her home. It helped with her memory. He would then tell a fantastic tale of misadventures in the Shire, and Roa would peel with laughter, drawing many strange looks.

Today was special, though. Toby was helping with the party arrangements, and asked Roa if she would deign to help as well. "Of course," she agreed, "It would be my pleasure. What is it you require of me?"

"To be honest, my lady, I was hoping that you would help with the decorations. We need people to move things about, find the proper places, and other such things." He seemed almost ashamedf to ask, and Roa could guess why. After all, she had done hard labor for the past two weeks; decorations seemed like weak work for her. But it would be a nice change in routine...

"Very well, master hobbit I would be delighted." He looked very much relieved. She smiled and continued with her meal.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal looked over at her in surprise. She had no idea that her mere presence and they way that she acted would teach someone the values of life.

"I am glad to help you. Life is very valuable, never take it for granted my friend." She replied as she looked at the sunrise. So beautiful, Crystal thought.

[Esgallhugwen]

Aldor awoke with the cool breeze of morning in his hair and the warm rays on his face. The work seemed to fly by these last few days, and he was glad and proud to have been a part of it.

The floor was done and all the furniture was in its place, a few finishing details were being put on the fireplace, engravings and such, a lovely work of stone really. He stepped inside the door and was amazed at how everyone's work had come together so magnificently, even though he was only involved in the later part of rebuilding.

A smell of warm pastries entered his senses and he sat down immediately to enjoy breakfast. He was soon joined by Kiyvan the man whom he had befriended ten days ago when they first came to the Inn.

"Good morning Aldor" he greeted with a waking stretch, Aldor could only wave as he had a rather generous amount of pastry held within his mouth, he gulped it down quickly with a swig of cider, "good morning Kiyvan, please have seat, you must try one of these breakfast pastries, they're very good".

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~ NOTICE OF NEW GAME OPENING ~*~*~*~

Alaklondewen invites you to play in her new RPG: A Land to Call Their Own.

Click HERE to see it.
_______________________________________________

OPENING DATE FOR DISCUSSION THREAD:

Wednesday, 03/03, 11 p.m., Pacific Time, U.S.
_______________________________________________

Until then: please read it carefully, create a good Hobbit character according to the guidelines given by the owner, and craft a well written First Post to be submitted with your character’s description form.


It should be a fun game!

~*~ Pio

[rutslegolas]

Harold Brandybuck went into the newly repaired Inn ,it looked magnificient ,he was surprised that the Inn was repaired so quickly though the fire had been devastating,he had slept in the stable and now it was a fine clear morning and he still desired to have some breakfast,so he woke his friend Alwin and they both went into the Inn to have some beacon and eggs.

The Inn was being prepared for the reopening party and Harold wondered how his carpentering skills would help in this carpentering,however he did not have time for more thughts as Buttercup came to them with their breakfast.Alwin and he had the breakfast and in smokes of their pipes wondered how they could help for the party ,when Alwin suddenly got up startled ,Harold wondering what had happened looked towards the Inn door and .....

[Arry]

He sat sharing a pipe with Harold, their talk turning to matters of the upcoming party. Alwin motioned with his hand to the tables and chairs that now graced the Common Room. ‘I don’t think you need to worry about doing something more for the party. Look what you’ve already done.’ The tables were all polished, their smooth surfaces glinting softly in the light from the windows. Those chairs not already in use, stood ready for the influx of visitors to the Inn that would surely accompany the announcement of a party.

The door to the Inn was open, held so by one of the sawhorses. There were still items that needed to be moved back into the Inn and the workmen found it easier just to leave the door open. Harold had just fished out his pouch of tobacco, preparing to fill his pipe again, when Alwin heard the loud clip-clop of hooves against the wood of the Inn steps and porch. He stood up, frowning at the sound.

Then, there, framed in the doorway was a little brown muzzle followed by the ears and stocky body of one of the Inn ponies. Alwin glanced out the window and saw the rest of the ponies and horses milling about in the yard. Someone had forgotten to fasten them into their pen. Alwin gasped and motioned for Harold to take a look. The horses were eating the flowers from the front gardens, and through the window on the opposite side of the Inn, the ponies could be seen munching on the salad greens and scaring the chickens, who clucked loudly at the intruders.

Alwin grabbed hold of the pony who’d come in to nose through the plate of pastries on one of the tables; Harold led the way back out to the Inn yard to begin the rest of the round-up . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hawthorne had just come back from the fishing hole carrying a handsome string of perch and trout that she intended to give to Ruby and Buttercup as a peace offering. But before she could make her way round to the kitchen, she was startled to see a number of ponies who had escaped from their pen, now milling about the grounds of the Inn. Quickening her step to find out exactly what was happening, she was appalled to observe that several of the animals were standing in the midst of the gardens along the front of the Dragon, making a dainty meal out of the choicest blossoms. Her eyes widened further as she caught a glimpse of her precious garden at the rear of the Inn with a fat brown pony standing knee deep in the middle of the row, a half-eaten leaf of lettuce hanging out both sides of his mouth.

What knucklehead had let the animals out? Hawthorne looked on in abject horror and vowed to have her revenge. For the past two weeks, she had devoted countless hours to weeding and nurturing the flowers and cultivating her little plot of vegetables and herbs. Now the fences had been kicked down, and many of the lovely plants trampled into the ground. This was supposed to be her surprise for Cook, a little present so that she wouldn't be quite so angry for the damage that the kitchen had suffered.

Fighting back tears, Hawthorne frantically motioned to Harold and Alwin, and any of the other guests who happened to be walking by, begging them to help her round up the animals so that the damage to the gardens could be minimized. She ran towards the rear of the Inn, waving her arms in the air and trying to herd the animals back in the direction of their pen. Al the while she was grumpily reflecting....Why can't anything I do ever come out right?

[Primrose Bolger]

Nosed by one of the free ranging ponies, a few of the irate chickens had flown the coop. In a flurry of feathers they’d found their way to the great oak tree and now sought refuge among the branches. One of them, a particularly noisome little banty, shook his comb at Kiera, crowing loudly. Stretching his wings out and puffing his chest, he fixed her with his bright black eye and advance on her, claiming his new domain.

‘Best you not do that, little master,’ she cooed at him in a soothing voice. He stopped, distracted by her left hand as it wove in a rhythmic pattern in the air. His head bobbed at it, and he shook his feathers as if in warning. With a practiced scoop of her right arm, she grabbed him quickly by the legs. Holding him upside down earned her a few vicious pecks before her left hand caught him by the neck and held him gently. She cradled him under her arm and lulled him into quiescence with a sing-song pattern of nonsense sounds.

The hens, there were four of them, clustered close together on the branch a little ways off. They squawked at the melee taking place below and eyed the milling ponies and their pursuers with suspicion.

Quiet now, the rooster made little clucking noises, content for the moment. The hens gathered near him, listening to the soothing flow of assuring sounds. ‘You can stay until the night falls,’ she told the lot of them. ‘Then I’ll see you safely back to the henhouse and your little yard.’

One of the horses, feeling penned in by his pursuers, kicked out at that moment, catching one of the poles that held up the fencing to the hen yard. Kiera shook her head as a section of the fence collapsed. ‘This Inn is in need of a bit of good luck,’ she murmured to herself. The rooster, stretching his neck to see the source of the new noise, nodded his head as if in agreement.

[Feared Half-Elf]

Elkamia dropped her breakfast back onto it's plate and shot out of the Inn door with a speed that no-one here had ever seen before. She raced at one of the horses and leapt onto it's back, using it to round up a group of perhaps four ponies that were heading towards the herb garden. Years of warrior practise had trained her for moments like this, when animals of some sort were loose!

Trying to stifle a giggle as one of the other Hobbits raced across the yard after a particularly adamant pony, she shepharded to four ponies back into the pen, shutting the gate from horseback. Surely the owner of this grey gelding wouldn't mind?

The gelding leapt forwards, and she laid her hand on the head of another horse, this time a cheatnut. The fiery creature calmed, and she got that one back to the pen too.

[Fool Of A Took]

Grimm heard some screeching. He rolled over and laid a hand over his ear. Something picked at his arm. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He yawned and looked around. His gaze was totally blurred. He heard some more screeching and he looked at his left side and found Avalon. He smiled to the bird and said "Oh, it was just you." He looked up and saw that Cree was already up. He jumped up and stretched. He yawned even louder and Cree giggled a little. "Come on now, the Inn is almost rebuilt again, let's see what Aman will have us do today." she said and Avalon flew over to her and landed on her shoulder.

It's perfect now, just as it should. He smiled to Cree and they began to walk to Aman that stood on the lawn. He felt hungry but he couldn't think of food now. The Inn was almost finished and everyone looked happy after all the sorrow that had paralyzed the people. It seemed like a celebrationparty for the new opening of the Inn was getting planned and the Shiriff from Hobbiton stood and organized things together with the Shiriff from Bywater.

Aman looked happy as they approached. "Is there anything that needs to be done, Miz Aman?" Grimm asked. It had been a lot of work, but Grimm was ready to help as much as he was available to.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling awoke to find a roan nuzzling his beard. He had not intended to fall asleep but the combination of the warm sun and his pipe had been such that he must have drifted off. He pushed the horse’s head away from his own and was surprised to see a number of ponies and horses about the yard. Hobbits were running about wildly trying to herd the animals back into their pens, and a few Elves and Men were lending a hand as well. Snaveling grimaced at the confusion. This place, he thought, if it’s not one thing, it’s another. . .. Taking hold of the roan’s bridle and clucking lightly with his tongue he led the mare back to her stall. He took a sly look round to make sure that he was unobserved before rifling through an unattended saddle bag that had been left across the pen wall. Finding it empty, he returned to the yard and helped herd a few more ponies into the stables.

By now, most of the chaos had been seen to and Snaveling was hungry. Chuckling to himself about the horses – not too unkindly – he went into the Inn to look for some breakfast. The change from the bright light of day to the interior of the Inn was abrupt, so the first thing he noticed was the smell of the freshly carpentered wood. The Common Room was spacious but not overly large, with an elaborately conceived hearth off to one side. The furniture was simply but sturdily built and came in two sizes: one for the Big Folk and one for the Little. Snaveling noticed with interest that a couple of tables had apparently been constructed with both Folk in mind, with raised benches on one side and regular chairs on the other. (If there was one thing that he had learned of Halflings, it was that they were practical.)

The Room was beginning to fill with people attending to their breakfasts, and at first Snaveling did not notice Toby and Roa at one of the specially built tables. When he did see them, his first impulse was to slink from the Inn to avoid being seen by Roa, but Toby’s eye fell on him before he could flee. The gentlehobbit called Snaveling over to where they were sitting. Reluctantly, Snaveling joined them. Toby, as usual, was talking vociferously, but there was something in his manner that attracted Snaveling’s attention. Toby is planning something, he thought. Indeed, while Toby was hiding it well, it was clear to Snaveling at least that the hobbit was quite pleased with some clever device that he was meditating upon. Snaveling thought of confronting him about it but decided to let the matter rest. Let him have his little mysteries; I’m sure we’ll all hear about it soon enough.

Snaveling avoided Roa’s gaze. She too had something on her mind, but unlike Toby, Snaveling was all too aware of what it was. How much longer could he hope it would be before she remembered? And then what would happen to him? It was as he thought this that Roa addressed him, causing him to react with startled alarm. “Toby has asked for me help with decorating the Inn; for the party tonight. Perhaps you could help us?”

Decorate? “Decorate?” he said. “Well…it will be easier than hauling around furniture. Where do we begin, My Lady,” he tried to hide – not quite successfully – his mocking tone. “I am entirely in your hands.”

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa frowned at Snaveling's tone. She knew he disliked her people, and she also knew he did not enjoy being held under her eye. Well, I suppose he has a right to dislike it. I should release him... Roa dismissed the thought. She did not know why, but she did not wish to release him, not yet. After all, he was a thief, and she did want to keep him out of trouble. However, that mocking tone irritated her. Fine then, we can settle that matter...

"You need not refer to me with such formality. Simply call me Roa. And that goes for you as well, Toby," she added as she turned to the hobbit. "I consider you both friends, now. We should address each other as such." Roa finished with genuine worth. She did not know when the change had occured, but they were both her friends now, as were Galadel and Val. Even Snaveling, though he was shady at best, had her friendship.

"Now then, where were we?" Toby continued on with his tale, and Snaveling looked rather startled. Roa smiled inwardly. It was a great deal of fun to catch him off-guard, though she could not say why.

[Kransha]

Toby Hornblower smiled warmly, a facial expression he wasn’t entirely accustomed to. He fixed the odd smile contorting his faced bit his lip, preparing for another rant. He quickly leaned forward as Roa, with a very comforting and gentle look on her face, turned back to him, also smiling. He put his arms on the table slowly, easing himself into a storytelling gait and setting the atmosphere for his tale.

“Alright, I am as aware as all of you that the Shire is not exactly an imperial power upon this Middle-Earth, but we keep our share of importance. Ever since the war, hobbits have forgotten the more glorious of our days, years and years ago. In the last age, we hobbit had our share of chivalrous warriors and ferocious epics and what not. Of course, a tale hangs upon that. After the Battle of Bywater, the thoughts of old were driven from the Shire’s mentality. But there are many of our wiser folk who still remember our grandest tale, the stories of the past. As a matter of fact, a great deal of our very culture can be described in this story. Many elders tell this story to children to teach them about our ways of life. If you truly want to know about the Shire, and about all Halflings, you are surely required to hear the stories about the Battle of Greenfields.”

He waited for some kind of visible reaction. There was technically none, but he could tell that he had at least piqued the interest of one of his two audience-members a little. His smile swelled, and his stomach began to bulge with obvious pride as he leaned back, nestling himself into an epic niche.

“You see, in the year of our reckoning, 1147, (that’s Shire-reckoning, by the way) there came a great host of beastly, savage, monstrous goblin-folk from the mighty citadel of Mount Gram (very big, looming place in the Misty Mountains) into this fair land, invading our territory with utter disregard for any hobbit’s safety. They looted and pillaged ruthlessly, destroying homes and stealing livestock to devour. Of course, the hobbits of that day would never stand for such things. So they banded together, they did, and made a force to stop those boorish orcs. They were led by Bandobras Took, called ‘The Bullroarer’ because of his great strength and height (he happened to be a family relative of mine), and the other respected hobbits of all farthings. My ancestor, Tolman Hornblower (distant uncle’s cousin of my current nephew, don’tcha know), was there too alongside him, as were the heralds of every great family (at the time, not very many, but still a few). Together, they met the foul orcs at Greenfields, in the Northfarthing (quaint little place, great for picnics), and battled heroically, losing not a single life among them. Then, as the conflict piqued, the horns of the Halflings sounded, echoing through the Shire. The powerful blasts from the Hornblower Horn (which gave my ancestor our family name) and the Horn-Call of Buckland, calling hobbits to arms, pushed our mighty troops forward. Finally, Bandobras came face to face with the most beastliest, ugliest, most foul and bad-breathing orc of them all, their leader, Golfimbul the goblin (many suspect he was a troll midget).”

He paused, realizing suddenly that his cheeks were extremely red, practically radiating uncomfortable crimson tinges. He let the bulge in his stomach leak out immediately, watching as he literally shrunk in place. He took another breath, gulping and gasping for air after the voracious rant. His listeners looked like they were ready for him to continue, so he began spending the breath on more ramblings, almost completely losing track of what he was saying as the mangled words poured out of the gaping, twisting maw that was formerly his mouth.

“And?” said Roa, with more of a suggesting nature than that of real, genuine eagerness to hear the story. Regardless, Toby’s mouth had already begun to move at an impossible speed.

“And Bullroarer, using his wooden club (many are of the opinion that it was either a great spiked mace or a piece of pipe-weed stem), struck off the head of Golfimbul and it sailed through the air, landing precisely in a rabbit hole (pity the rabbit wasn’t there, would’ve like rabbit for dinner). Unnerved, the goblins fled and the hobbits of the Shire were victorious. Legend has it that Bandobras first conceived the game of golf, striking Golfimbul’s head into that hole (very few play it much, but it’s still an achievement to invent it). Also, the Hornblower’s first obtained their family name (along with several other notable namings) and the Horn-Call of Buckland (alarm bell of those Brandybucks in the Eastfarthing) sounded for the very first time in Eriador.”

Toby took a very deep breath, slamming his hands on the table. He sat for a moment, staring blankly at the space between Roa and Snaveling, and promptly belched very loudly for no apparent reason.
“Ummm…sorry about that…It really couldn’t wait….What was I talking about exactly?”

[SonOfBombadil]

Lewis woke up to the fiery sunrise of the new day, and looked around himself. His cloak that he had wrapped around himself for sleeping was dew covered. The smell of freshly cut wood was in the air, and it reminded him where he was. Lewis had fallen asleep against the brand new stonework of the rebuilt Green Dragon. It wasn't unusual for him though, he was so used to sleeping outside anyways so it just came natural for him to wake up outside.

He took in a deep breath, and got up to his feet. His first thoughts went to Ravon. She was likely still sleeping though and he didn't want to wake her from her spot in the hayloft. He looked at the ring on his finger and was reminded of how close they had become over the last few weeks of rebuilding the Inn. Now it was almost over and he wondered what was in store for them. Lewis was certain however that whatever it was, it would be good. And he'd make sure of that.

Lewis smiled as he walked in through the new doorway of the Dragon. It wasn't completely finished, but it was very close, and it looked very good. New tables and chairs had been set about the inn, and it looked more and more like the cosy Inn that had been there before. He sat down in a chair, looking around the room, and also waiting for his head to completely wake up.

[rutslegolas]

As Harold Brandybuck sat in the Inn smoking his pipe comfortably with Alwin,his companion gave a gasp ,looking at the door Harold saw that the garden was filled with ponies and horses ,some foolish hoobit or man had left the stable door ajar not caring to close it and now the whole garden was full with ponies and horses munching happily on the carrots and radishshes planted in the garden for the upcoming party.

Alwin and Harold went to gather all the horses and ponies,it was a hard work for some of the horses would not listen to Alwin and he had to use some force,Harold gathered all the ponies (as horses very too big for him) and led them to the stables ,Alwin was already there waiting for him and they both carefully locked the stable door before they left.

Now even if Alwin had said that he need'ent to anything for the party, Regin Handhammer had suggested that Harold carve the board above the fireplace,with pictures of the Shire and the name of the Inn ,so Harold asked Alwin if he would help him ........

[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

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

Halfred Whitfoot – local Shiriff from Bywater and Postmaster for this area of the Shire; his pony’s name is Dumpling.

Fredgar Hornblower – local Shiriff from Hobbiton – played by Fool of a Took
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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.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.
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IT IS NOW MID DAY. THE WEATHER IS PLEASANT.

[Esgallhugwen]

Aldor laughed heartily at the incident that had ocurred in the morning, someone by mistake or for whatever reason had left the corral gate open, allowing all the ponies and horses to wonder freely. His horse however knew not to go very far from her friend and master, she had stayed in the front nibbling on the lush grass.

He strolled about the Inn looking into the rooms, clean and new, done well by a craftsmen's hands. But Aldor loved the outdoors utterly and soon longed for a bit of fresh air, not that he didn't cherish a warm bed and a roof over his head, he was accustomed to being outside and wondering here and there.

Soon he found himself lying on his back with his hands behind his head taking in the sweet smells and the sound of birds chirping in the light of the sun. He wondered if anyone would be needing his help for party preparations.