The Green Dragon Inn - Part 6

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma had finished her breakfast quickly. It was raining hard outside due to a summer storm so the market had been brought inside. The common room was bustling with hobbits mainly, selling and buying various objects.

The elf wandered round the room looking at various stalls. As she stopped at a hobbit selling candles she listened in on the conversation going on between the local Shirriff and another hobbit. It seemed to be about the journey to rescue the Rohan man. She picked up a candle and looked at it while still listening. Suddenly, the hobbit turned round and spoke to her;

"Will you be wanting that Mistress Elf?"

"Oh! N-n-no thanks. I was just erm, looking. Thank you!"

She hurried away from the table and both hobbits eyed her suspiciously until she was on the other side of the room. For about 10 minutes she wandered round the room without buying anything. Evetually, she went outside into the pouring rain to leave the looks behind.

The air was fresh and damp, the plants seemed to be laughing with pleasure as a break from the summer warmth. Eventually, she began to feel the water seep through to her skin and so took refuge in the stables. The horses neighed with impatience, wanting freedom from the enclosed stalls. Nuinyulma smiled and laughed with un unusual joy and taking out a small carrot from her pocket fed it to her dapple grey mare Lainniss. She horse took the food hungrily and quickly ate it.

Whispering a simple Elvish tune, she sat down on a stool which had been left there by someone and waited until the rain cleared up or she felt the need for some food- which ever came first.

[ September 28, 2003: Message edited by: elf-girl-63 ]

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen awoke with the fresh scent of rain coming through the window, How she loved the rain in all it's power and it's beauty. She breathed deeply leaning against the windowsill. A faint smile came across Esgallhugwen's face; her grey eyes glistening from the dewy rays of the sun.

She folded up her cloak neatly and tucked it into her bag, heading downstairs to the bustle forming in the early morning. She pondered and ran through the events of last night, cathching the tail end of the shirrifs conversation about the party being nothing but Elves and that Hobbits were the ones that were realy needed. Stubborn little Hobbit she thought as she wondered around the room looking at all the wares, pots and cups, beeswax candles and all sorts of fabrics; Esgallhugwen was amazed at the skill that the Hobbit's had to weave such things of beauty.

Esgallhugwen took a seat and ordered some hot spiced tea and a pastry. Buttercup returned quickly smiling all the while as if she knew something no one else knew.

She thanked Buttercup, taking a sip of her tea. The shirrif giving her an offish look as if to say not another Elf, that's all we need right now is yet another Elf to go tromping about. Esgallhugwen stared back a strange spark came into her eyes Oh yes this is yet another Elf and you'll be seeing more of me very soon! she thought smirking at him.

Standing up, Falco gave a start and quickly spun around pretending to examine some candles but nervously gave a glance back to make sure the coast was clear and it was, Esgallhugwen went outside in the rain.

Once the door had shut, some Hobbits and others went to the windows to peer out whisperings began to emerge about such things as 'Elves are the queerest of folk looking up into the rain and with no cloak on, lyble to catch a cold'

They whispered a little more for fear that Esgallhugwen may hear them, but soon enough they went back to their business.

The soft pattering of the rain gave her joy beyond the pain of past memories. Birds fluttered down into the already small forming puddles, taking baths before the rain became too heavy. She listened to them sing, the tea still warm in her she went towards the stables.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman rushed in from outside, closing the back door quickly behind her, holding her cloak hood over her head with the other hand. Leaning against it, she tipped her head back against the smooth, polished wood and sighed, maybe from relief, letting her now sodden hood fall down onto her shoulders, her hair, left down this morning, unwinding freely with it.

She had sat it the barn for a goos half an hour, having slipped out with the excuse that she was looking for Derufin. In the high, dark, cool space of the rafters, the young woman was free to think with only the rain as a backdrop to her thoughts. She needed time alone sometimes, and her mind had had plenty to feed on. Hurt, stress, anxiety...these turbulent emotions had been embedding themselves in her brain for several days, until she thought they would threaten to take over entirely. Falowik's news over Eodwine had been a surprise, both welcome and unwelcome to the Innkeeper - now they had a lead on the trail of her kinsman, something she was infinitely grateful for, but something nagged at her mind:

Why had Falowik not said something before?

The thought worried her, no doubt, but she hadn't said anything. After all, Uien seemed truly happy, and the grimy, suspicious newcomer that had been Falowik had settled into a glowing, quite charming young man, and so all in that quarter was well. But still...

And their quest. What if it should fail? What if an ambush should take them by surprise, causing Aman to lose several good friends, including Uien herself and Lira? What if they didn't find Eodwine, or...no, Aman resolved she would not finish that thought. The rohirrim messenger was a fighter, one of her people to his bones, to his mind, to his soul; he would not have gone down. Of that she was almost sure. But still the unfinished, unanswered questions came from all sides...

And there was Pio. Gracious Vala above, there was Pio. So strong was Aman's wish to live up to what her glowing, organised, excellent friend had been to this Inn, so fervent was her wish to show her predecessor she was doing it right...but now Buttercup's comment, unwittingly insulting, not meant for Aman's ears came back to her from the previous day, the hobbit's whisper so fresh in her mind that the waitress seemed to be sitting on the rafter beside her:

‘Runs a tight ship, that one does . . . and everyone hops when she says to . . . Backbone of the Inn in my opinion . . .’

Aman smiled bitterly. Not talking of Aman, of course. Never would be, with a description like that...

Still, the quarters for Pio, Mithadan, and their as yet unnamed twins were looking every more splendid with each passing evening in which Aman would look into them. Ah the twins...Aman remembered with a fond smile the expressions of awe and wonder and puzzlement on their tiny, perfect faces, their amazement at the world and everything in it, and the smile of perfect love and the tears of happiness on Pio's face as she looked down at her babies, holding them at first as if she would never, ever let go of the precious, perfect, living gems she had given life to. As she had looked up at Mithadan, Aman remembered the love and wonder which they had shared, and the way he had come to her side, a smile creasing his usually stern face.

The love and wonder which they had shared...the thought brought Aman onto that thought, that feeling, that tenative realisation which had kept her going, its smooth, flowing song sweeping through the dischords of worry in her mind. In her mind, another face replaced Pio and Mithadan's, a younger one, grinning ruefully as he rubbed his head with a hand, yet from the end of his pale skinned chin to his tousled hair, and from side to side of his grinning, handsome face, this face seemed, in a different way, in that instance, to be every bit as perfect as Pio's twins...

The realisation of what she felt hit Aman once more as she sighed again, her damp hair warm against her neck as she still leaned against the kitchen cum back door of the Inn. The realisation which had come to couples throughout millenia and would continue into the mists of time, that Uien and Falowik felt, that Pio and Mithadan felt, that she felt towards -

"Penny for your thoughts, Aman?"

The voice shook the Innkeeper and she almost visibly jumped, her eyes snapping open as she looked quickly forwards, straightening up. Her green, startled eyes met the amused gaze of...Beren.

Flushing deeply, Aman hoped her colour could be put down to the rain, and she recovered as best as she could. "I...well..Pio!" She grasped this straw. "Yes, I was just thinking about how, um, how Pio and Mithadan, and the twins, you know, how they would, um..." she stopped herself, almost clicking hr fingers in frustration. So busy was she trying to hide her thougts, she had forgotten even to wish to poor boy good morning. Closing her eyes, she laughed quietly for a second, then opened them to see Beren was laughing also. Inclining her head, smiling ruefully, Aman started again. "Good morning, Beren."

"The same to you, Aman," the gardener replied, still grinning mischieviously. They hesitated for a second, before both beginning to speak at once.

"Will you-?"
"Can I-?"
"Oh, sorry, you first."
"No, really, I insist."
"It doesn't matter, I was just..." Aman motioned past Beren, through the door, and the gardener started in sudden realisation.

"Oh! I'm sorry I-"

"Forget it." Aman's voice was softer, calming, and she smiled at Beren again. This time he blushed, and in his case it could not be put down to the rain. Smiling back, slightly flustered, Beren stepped aside to let Aman float into the Common Room, where she barely even noticed Ruby, Buttercup, and Derufin studiously minding their own business...

[Jack]

Wyn walked slowly towards the inn. Éofalas frowned at the sky; the rain fell down on Éofalas’s light beard. Dark gray ominous clouds glowered down at the silent man who watched them. Wet and gray was the world, and the light storm trickled on. A light wind blew gentle sheets of rain and stirred Wyn’s tail and Éofalas’s long, pale braid.

Éofalas smiled as Wyn as he shook his light gray head letting water spray all over him. With all Éofalas’s hurrying they had been still drenched with the rain. Taking a dry cloth he rubbed Wyn down carefully. Then Éofalas rebraided Wyn’s dark mane. The gray stallion stood silent as Éofalas did his work. “Good boy Wyn,” Éofalas murmured.

As he worked Éofalas wondered if this was a good idea… I just need a few days. He thought. He had left Rohan to get a few days to himself. Now he was having second thoughts. Éofalas flipped his wet braid over his shoulder, and throwing his small pack over his shoulder Éofalas walked briskly out of the stables and towards the inn.

Breakfast is a beautiful word if you are hungry. Even more so if you have been traveling for many days and had only dry meat and a little stale bread. A hot breakfast would be most welcome to Éofalas, maybe even some ale to warm him first.

Éofalas stepped in the door and walked to one of the back tables and sat down. The warmth of the inn helped sooth his tense, aching muscles. Moving closer to the fire he sighed. He was beginning to think this was a good idea again.

[ September 28, 2003: Message edited by: Jack ]

[ October 15, 2003: Message edited by: Jack ]

[Elfwine]

A glint of yellow light and a curl of white smoke could be seen on the bend of the cobblestone path that led to the Green Dragon Inn. All was silent save the occasional flashes of merry laughter that seeped through the cracks in old walls of the Inn, and the clapping of hooves, echoing across the surrounding landscape.

Gloved hands tugged back on thick leather reins, and the massive stallion halted at the foot of the tavern. Patting the gray horse on the shoulder, the tall rider dismounted, boots slamming down upon the frost-laden dirt. Removing one glove from his left hand, he pulled back the heavy woolen hood that shadowed his face to reveal eyes of crystalline grey, partially veiled by a few wavy locks of rich brown.

Allowing a sigh of great relief to escape chapped lips, he turned towards the great beast at his side and clutched the dangling reins once again with cold fingers. Leading the grey towards the back fence, he loosely wrapped the strips of braided leather about one of the thick logs and turned on his heel, patting the stallion on the flank as he headed towards the front doors of the Green Dragon.

The young Gondorian entered quietly, hoping not to draw much attention as he wasn't in the mood for a great deal of excitement. What he longed for was a roaring fire and perhaps someone of intelligence to exchange thoughts with. In place of a roaring fire, he found a lapping one, and in place of one of intelligence, he found a cushioned stool. This, he decided, was close enough. Loosening the bindings of his worn cloak, he tool his place upon the sturdy joint stool and leaned forward to warm his hands atop the licking flames.

[Elora]

Uien fastened the last bundle of herbs to th rafter and stepped back, wiping her hands on her skirts. The rain made a soothing tattoo on the stable's roof overhead. With a glance around the stable and nothing more to be done, Uien thought she had best make for the inn.

She made one detour for the hay loft that had been her shelter for some days now and retrieved her cloak. It was worn and no match for a summer storm, but better than nothing. Uien fastened it around her throat and drew the hood up over her head with a sigh. She'd like nothing more than to dance through that rain, feel it fall clean and cool upon her face. She may have, had things been different.

Instead, Uien deferred to more seemly conduct. Falco Boffin would have a field day if he caught her spinning in the downpour and his pony was still here. There was no sign of a let-up in the storm and so Uien stepped out into it and cut a swift path to the inn. Even though she had chosen a more sedate option, a smile of pure delight curved her lips as she gained the covered front veranda.

The rain had nicely soaked her cloak and water dripped from the ends of her hair. Not so much as to make a terrible mess, but still Uien fancied Aman would be none too pleased with her creating a puddle on her clean floor. She peeled her cloak from her shoulders, shook it out and her hair also. Duly prepared Uien then entered the inn and found it a hive of activity.

A sale of some sort was taking place, people milling around the stalls or gathered at tables sipping on wine and ale. With sigh, for Falowik may have enjoyed this, she hung her cloak and pushed further into the press. A knot of familiar faces were gathered. Derufin, Aman, Ruby Buttercup, Beren all seemed preoccupied with something. She'd miss them, Uien realised with astonishment. She'd would miss them, and this was the first time that she had found herself facing that prospect since venturing beyond Lothlorien's bounds.

Even formidible Ms Bunce, the inn's cook. She'd miss them all. Uien glanced other faces, those who had joined her already. She smiled at each in turn, inclining her head in recognition and greeting.

A man stood by the hearth, warming his hands. Yes, a fine crowd had gathered at the inn. It would be a day of brisk business. Uien's damp hair would soon dry in the warm interior of the commonroom.

Ah well, she mused, the horses and ponies have a right to a dry place and you like the rain... She'd see to finding a place out of the rain for the mounts of those who would arrive just as soon as she found something to eat.

With that in mind, Uien started to slip through the throngs of people in search of food.

[Jack]

Éofalas sighed, hot food was so welcome. It was still early in the morning but Éofalas was tired. No one had see noticed him yet but he was all right with that. Noting the people around him he saw two new ones come in, a man and a young woman. She looked elvish but she moved before he was sure.

Finishing his food he wondered how he would get a room for a few days. Sighing he leaned back in his chair smoothing his rumpled green tunic. His eyelids drooped over his blue-gray eyes. The fire was so warm and even his chair seemed comfortable.

[Elfwine]

Hawk-like eyes shifted towards the double doors as they swung open once more, creeking warily as the young woman stepped in, her hair folded in an odd direction, as she had apparently shaken out the summer rain. A few moments more and she was lost in the crowd. And a lively crowd it was. The chorus of laughter and the raising of mugs brought a smile to the young man's face, and he let out another sigh; one of content.

Rubbing his hands together, he pulled them away from the fire and crossed his arms heartily, wrapping his fingers into the endless folds of his woolen cloak. Spinning about on the stool, he leaned forward again, this time facing the roaring throng of people. He wafted a cautious glance over the bunch, taking in faces; the woman's, and many others, then relaxed and let his ears concentrate on the merry music.

[Imladris]

Lira groomed Merkaliel, her mare, with care, the stiff bristled brush wiping away the caked mud upon the horse's cloak. Taking a soft rag, she vigorously rubbed the body and was pleased to see that the ebony began to glisten without the aide of sun or moon. A crash of thunder made her glance out of the stall to see the sheet of rain that came pouring down in a magical curtain of alluring enchantment. A fine mist sprayed gently upon her upturned face.

Lira smiled and, taking the Merkaliel's hooves into her hand, began to pick them clean with a bent hook of iron. She ran swiftly outside and stood in the rain, letting the drops wash over her until her braided hair was a soggen mess and her green dress clung to her scrawny legs. Water dribbled down in rivulets down her chin and neck, gently landed upon her closed eyelids, and moistened her lips. She outstretched her hands and just let the rain fall upon her feverish palms.

The music of the pattering rain coaxed her to join in the song, and she began a lilting tune of her own imagination, without words, as her voice mingled witht he deep bass of the thunder, and the pleasant harmony of the falling rain.

As she sang, her thoughts turned to the mission ahead of her, the one with Uien and Esgallhugwen, and the others. Lira did not understand those who could waylay the innocent upon the roads and murder the men of Gondor.

The thought that she could die did not enter into her mind, spreading the gloom of dark forboding, as she stood motionless in the rain. Here her youth as an elf was apparent: had she not survived the threat of the orcs, the fiendish minions of the Shadow? She would survive this as well.

Reluctantly, she returned to the stable and, crouching in the warm stall, she disrobed of her water saturated green garment and donned a blue, light dress in its stead. It reached to her feet and was girt at the waist with a small belt. Hanging the wet garment upon the stall to dry, she darted swiftly into the warm comfort of the inn and skipped merrily to her room to pack what few belongings she had to accompany her on the mission. As soon as the rain ceased, she would replenish her supply of herbs.

[Enif]

Enif gently carressed her steed as she left him at the entrance of the inn. "Now be good!" she said smilling. The animal looked at her as if he had understood her order, he bowed his head in obidience. It was a beautifull creature, with it's shinny black fur, and though it looked untamable it was a very sweet horse.

She walked in as the merry faces looked at her for a breaf moment and continued whatever they were doing, she arrived just in time for breakfeast. For a moment she watched the crowd, smilling faces, some still a little sleepy, the talking, the music, and the smell of food, all that lifted her spirit and a shy smile could be noticed on her face. It had been a long and lonely journey, now she could finnaly rest.
She took off her wet cloak and revealed her elven face, her honey coloured eyes, and her black silky hair.

Now Enif walked among the crowd looking for somewhere to sit, a little table in the corner of the room was empty, she sat and looked around in wonder for a few seconds, enjoyed the music and wishpered to her self "Finnaly..."

[ September 28, 2003: Message edited by: Enif ]

[Nurumaiel]

Hamson finished what was left of his breakfast and, picking his plate up, stood and went to the counter, where he handed the plate over. "Thank you for the excellent breakfast," he said. "Please tell the cook how much I enjoyed it." He began to turn, but then he stopped and turned red, shifting from one foot to the other and looking down at the floor. At last he spoke, though slowly and uncertainly. "Er... if you see Miss Melilot Sackville-Baggins, will you tell her I'm over by the stable and would she join me as soon as possible?" Then, grinning as though a great weight had been taken off his mind, he strode airily out of the Inn.

It was a beautiful morning. Or, at least, in Hamson's eyes it was. He wasn't sure what the others at the Inn thought of the rain, but he enjoyed it. The sight of the rain falling softly on the rolling green hills of the Shire was pleasant, and the feel of the rain on his face was refreshing. Pausing a moment till his hair was wet, he walked towards the stable, humming a lively tune. Deciding Melilot wouldn't want to sit out in the rain, he got under the shelter of the roof and sat upon the grass with his back against the stable, making certain he was in a position where Melilot could see him when she came out.

He had awhile to wait. Melilot was sleeping late that day, and it was a full hour before Melilot came out. But Hamson passed the time easily by singing songs, as well as composing some of his own. The latter wasn't very often, though, because his imagination wasn't as it was the day before (no doubt it had been exhausted from his tricks on Melilot). Thinking on his tricks of Melilot, he began to sing the following song, though not sincerely, as could be seen by the chuckles and rolling of eyes in between lines.

Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rosy fair
The purest eyes and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands.

"Ha. The ground on which she stands I try to avoid, lest she gives me a hearty punch," he murmured, grinning. Then, humming a little song he had just composed about the beauty of the Shire, his eyes lit up when he saw Melilot coming out of the Inn. A little frown came to her pretty face when she saw the rain falling from the sky and she seemed to be considering going back indoors. "Oh, Melilot, my darling, would you leave me?" Hamson cried with a laugh, jumping up. "Come here, cousin, I want to talk to you about something."

Her eyes rested on him and she called back. "I also would like to speak with you, Hamson. And, whether you like it or not, it concerns that hole."

"Oh, but that's exactly what I want to talk about." He jumped up and strode through the rain towards her, taking her hand. "You probably don't want to get wet, so run as fast as you can," he said. "I wouldn't like to talk in the Inn, for you might lose your temper and disturb the other guests. But the stable is rather quiet and I don't think anyone will mind over there. Now, one... two... three!"

He dragged her over the grass towards the shelter of the stable roof. She glared at him angrily, then sunk onto the grass. "Now, Mel-ilot," he said, hastily correcting himself. "I'm trying to figure out a way for both of us to be happy, and I'm coming upon something."

"Good, that's all I wanted to know," she said, standing up. With a fleeting smile at him, she turned towards the Inn and ran back. Glancing over her shoulder at him as she opened the door, she called, "Instead of worrying yourself over it, Hamson, why don't you realize that the only way for both of us to be happy is if you just give that hole to me." Then she disappeared inside.

Hamson stood up and stared after her, then he grimaced and refrained himself from kicking the stable way. "Why didn't she let me finish?" he grumbled, and sat down again. For the next two hours he sat by the stable out of the rain, singing songs and thinking about how to solve the problem of the hole... and not in the way Melilot wanted.

[Jack]

Éofalas stood and walked over to the long counter. He needed something to do before he fell asleep in the chair. Music and laugher filled his ears but he wasn't part of it. A spider resided under the lip of the wooden counter he moved away. Though he would never openly admit it he was afraid of the spider, all spiders. He wished often that he wasn't.

He could go to the stable and groom Wyn now he decided. No one seemed to see or acknowledge his presents in the crowded inn. It is just as well that they don’t, he said to himself but part of him wished he was back in Rohan.

Stepping out of the door of the inn he hurried across the courtyard to the stable. A hobbit sat near the stable door out of the rain. Éofalas nodded to him but he was grumbling to himself and didn’t see Éofalas.

Wyn acknowledged Éofalas approach with a whinny of pleaser. Éofalas began at the beginning and worked his way through his normal grooming pattern. This would take some time, and Éofalas was happy of that fact.

[Arveleg]

Sarn was pleased at the lady who served him a mug of ale, but none to go he understood. He sat there quiet, and after finishing his mug, slipped into a sleep sitting up, as he was so fond of doing at times. It seemed that much passed and the breakfast was being cooked when he awoke leaning against the pole by his chair.

"Aye, I will pay for a hearty breakfast, and also another ale!"

Sarn gaffed out to nobody in particular. He was ready for some food! He would be on his way to a hops field in the North Farthing this day, and he wanted to be full so his pack compliment would keep him going along.

[piosenniel]

Cook looked about the Common room with a pleased eye. Breakfast was being served in an efficient manner by the servers, while Ruby and Buttercup had the pouring of ales and wine and hot tea under control. The little market place along the edges of the room was humming with business and the exchange of news and pleasantries between those who had no chance to see each other during the week.

Celandine and her daughter were doing a brisk business with their candles. At a lull in the press of people to her table, Cook called her aside. ‘Save a number of those long, thick stubby ones for me. Some of our hens are getting old – just about ready for the stew pot. I’m going to have to see to hatching out some of the healthy eggs, and I’ll need the candles to check on them.’ Celandine bound a bundle of ten of the fragrant beeswax tapers with a bit of string and handed them to Cook.

Vinca fished in the pouch at her side for coins, but Celandine stayed her hand. ‘Let me have a broody hen and ten good eggs with her, and I’ll give you these plus the bigger candles for the lanterns for this month.’

‘Done!’ said Cook. ‘Come out and look the hens over now, and we’ll gather the eggs and candle them.’

Celandine’s daughter waved her mother off, saying she could handle the customers. Throwing their cloaks about their shoulders, Cook and Celandine
headed out the door, making their way to the coop under the eaves of the stable. They detoured into the stable first – Cook needed some hay in the basket she had brought to cushion the eggs and keep them warm.

‘Busy place!’ she remarked to Celandine, as they entered the building. There was Nuinyulma feeding a carrot to her horse. ‘Skinny little thing,’ thought Cook as she eyed her. ‘Be better if she ate the carrot herself.’ She waved at the girl and reminded her there was hot breakfast waiting in the Inn.

Esgallhugwen was there also. ‘So that’s where she’s got off to! I’ll just remind her that we’ll be needing her help getting lunch under way for the crowd.’ Cook spoke with the Elf as she passed by, saying there were plenty of meats and cheeses in the cool room and fresh loaves of bread. Platters of sandwiches would be easy to take round the crowd, and mugs of ale to wash them down with.

Lira, she noted was also there seeing to her horse. ‘Goodness,’ thought Cook, you’ld think they were all planning to leave!’

And there in one of the corner stalls was a newcomer to the Inn. From Rohan she’d heard from the server who’d brought him ale. Now what was his name? Eofalas was it? Pleasant enough looking fellow, for one of the Big Folk with his blue grey eyes. ‘Staying with us for a while?’ she inquired of him, watching his hands work carefully over his mount. ‘Had breakfast?’ From the corner of her eye she noted two Hobbits, heads together, wrangling over some problem, it seemed. ‘Hamson and Melilot! What a pair,’ she chuckled to herself.

[ September 29, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma nodded and smiled at Cook and the lady who was with her as they passed through the stables. Her horse quietly finished chewing the carrot and Nuinyulma was suddenly reminded of her journey that was to begin tomorrow. There was not much time left and she had so many things to do! She didn't even know if Doran was going to be joining them either. In fact, she wasn't sure even who was going.

As the rain battered heavily in the wooden roof, she listed names which had been mentioned; Uien (of course), Lira, Esgallhugwen, Falco- the shirrif and perhaps Falowik? She wasn't entirely sure.

Although, it was not long since her breakfast, Cook's reminder of hot food made her stomach rumble. She decided to go in and at least have some tea (and maybe a piece of toast). Then she must begin to poreapre for her trip.

All this food, was she turning into a hobbit?!

[piosenniel]

‘Well, now where has she got off to?’

Ruby and Buttercup had rushed into the kitchen to share their suspicions with Cook. But she was nowhere to be seen. Buttercup was dying to tell Cook what they had pieced together and now it would have to wait. Disappointed she plopped herself down in a chair to sulk a little.

‘No time for pouting,’ said Ruby, picking up the large teapot and a tray of mugs. ‘Cook will have our hide if we don’t get the customers served.’ ‘And besides,’ she said, handing the tray carefully to one of the morning servers who had come in looking for it, ‘if we keep our eyes and ears open, there may well be more than the little snippet of news we have now.’

Buttercup brightened at that prospect and stood up from her chair, straightening up her apron. Just as she did, Uien appeared in the kitchen, looking for a little breakfast. ‘Grab what you need,’ they told her. ‘We’ll be back after we’ve made the rounds of the room.’

‘What a jolly day!’ said Ruby, carrying a tray with platters of eggs and ham and toast and pastries. Buttercup followed close behind with pitchers of ale and wine and cold sweet water from the Inn’s well. ‘Keep your eyes peeled for Mistress Aman and that Beren. With any luck we’ll have more to tell Cook than we do now.’

The newcomer, Nedieth, was sitting at a table. ‘She looks a bit lonely, don’t you think?’ Buttercup nodded toward her, catching Ruby’s eye. ‘Let’s go over and say hello. She looks as if she could use a sugar bun and a hot mug of sweet spice tea.’ Ruby shook her head over all these folk who traveled so far from kith and kin. It was simply something she couldn’t imagine herself doing. She smiled sweetly at the woman as they poured the tea for her and made small talk for a few moments, urging her to look about at the market tables.

‘Oh, and look – there’s another one we’d better see to! Another Elf’s come to the Inn. However did we miss her? They introduced themselves and offered her some food. Lumiel was her name, she said. And did they know where Uien had gone? She wanted to speak with her. ‘The kitchen,’ they both cried in unison, ‘foraging for something to eat.’ They pointed out the door to Lumiel and sent her on.

Another new face hailed them, Enif, a dark-haired Elf just come in from the rain. A few pleasantries passed among the three of them, and they left her with a plate of food, a mug of tea, and her toes tapping to the music as she dug into her food.

Old Sarn was seen to next. Going off to some hops field he told them as they set a generous platter of eggs, ham, and toast in front of him. He tapped his mug on the table, and Buttercup filled it to the top. ‘You leaving in the rain,’ she inquired, ‘or going to wait it out?’ Ruby looked at her with raised brows. If he stayed, he was sure to drink them dry. The old gaffer had a hollow leg when it came to ale! And many a day he had won free drinks as he drank a challenging newcomer under the table.

Halfred came up as they were talking with Sarn. His mug was empty and he held it out to them with a smile. ‘Where’s Falco,’ they both asked him. ‘You two doing anything about that poor man who’s gone missing?’ Halfred sputtered in his ale, and made a few non-committal remarks. ‘Best we ask Millefoil next time we see her,’ remarked Ruby, watching him walk off. ‘He tells her everything, and she likes to tease us with news she’s gathered. I’ll bet she shows up soon, as soon as she hears of the market going on.

They wove their way round the room, stopping here and there to greet old friends and new customers. There by the small, crackling fire, warming his hands, was a young man. Handsome enough with his grey eyes and brown hair. ‘Looks a bit like Mr. Mithadan, don’t you think?’ whispered Buttercup. ‘Save he’s got brown hair and not black. I wonder if he’s from Gondor, too?’ Ruby eyed the fellow, now sitting at his leisure on one of the cushioned stools. ‘Oh he’s fair enough,’ she whispered back, ‘but not a handsome as Mistress Piosenniel’s mister . . . not by half.’ They stopped by him, and cleared their throats, wondering if he wanted something to refresh himself.

The door opened upon the rainy day, and a cold gust of wind blew in. A tall, cloaked form entered, soaked and shivering.

Slowly, Bethelarien drew back her hood, still shivering, gazing at the patrons of the inn. The Elf maiden approached the bar, and quietly asked the barkeeper for some ale, conscious of the gaze of many upon her. Unnerved, she smoothed her hair, trying unsuccessfully to cover her pointed ears, and finally giving up. She lifted her chin an inch or to, trying to show that she didn't care. Gratefully taking the ale offered by the innkeeper and handing her some money, Bethelarien turned. Shifting her sword at her belt and the bow on her back, she looked around for a table to sit at.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman excused herself from Beren as the first of a string of newcomers entered; the tall, handsome ranger-type, Gondorian from the look of him, and quite possibly a soldier by the way he held himself, despite his evident nervousness, swept up by Ruby and Buttercup quickly; Lumiel, Nedieth, and Enif, all three elves, all three entering seperately. The Innkeeper smiled to herself - it seemed most of the Inn's denizens were elvish even now. Even if Rivendell had the current title of the Last Homely House, The Green Dragon was surely not far behind it. Not to mention another man, his hair in a long braid, wet with rain, falling down his back. She looked more closely, and recognised the man as being one of her own people, Rohirrim, and she started towards him, eager for news of the land of the horse lords. But Cook got there first, taking his order for food as she passed quickly on her way to the kitchen. The day had certainly got off to a crackin start - already the Inn seemed busier than ever.

Another newcomer entered even as Aman turned towards the kitchen to get her own breakfast, and caused the Innkeeper to stop. The tall, proud figure, her chin held high as the eyes of the many customers flickered towards her, was nonetheless shivering slightly, her cloak damp and her hair dishevelled as she tried in vain to neaten it and to cover her ears. Another elf, hmm? But the soaked figure was so wet and the hem of her cloak slightly muddy, and Aman guessed she may even have been travelling without a horse in this stormy weather. She hastened over quickly, meeting the figure in front of the bar, where she ordered an ale. Aman obliged, and the woman smiled gratefully, murmuring her thanks, before turning. But as she turned, her cloak now unclasped at the neck and more open, one side wafted open slightly (and wetly), and Aman glimpsed the sword in her belt, and across her back she noticed the elvish bow. Raising an eyebrow, Aman frowned. She would have to get someone at the door again to avoid awkwardness in times like these, especially when Pio and her family arrived - she would not take any risks of that sort with the children.

Glancing around the Inn, Aman cast a longing glance towards the kitchen and subsequently her breakfast, before approaching the woman where she had now sat at a table and was struggling to remove her soaking cloak without drenching all those nearby.

"Here..." Aman lifted the cloak at the shoulders, letting the woman shrug it off and step out more easily. The woman smiled appreciatively.

"Thankyou,"
"No problem...?"
A pause. "Bethelarian."
Aman smiled. "No problem, Bethelarian." She held the soaking object at arms length, and made as if to go to the cloak hanger, before stopping as if just remembering something, clicking her fingers slightly. "Oh...and would you like me to take your weapons as well?"

Her tone was friendly, but there was a gleam in her eye. She hoped the woman would pick up on the fact it wasn't entirely choice.

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma reutrned to inn and ofund herself staring at several new faces. A man (from Gondor it appeared) sat by the fire crouched over the flames, drying himself off, there was another two elf-maidens, a Rohirrim man it appeared and several others.

She sat near the fire to warm herself from the weather outdoor. Buttercup came over to ask what she fancied for her (2nd) breakfast and then left to retrieve her order. The man turned around and nodded in recognition of her arrival and moved slightly away from the fire.

"Good morning!" He smiled at her and signalled for Nuinyulma to sit at the stool opposite him.

She smiled and sat on the stool- another Gondorian man in the inn and some more elves. The Green Dragon was becoming quite a hive of activity.

"Hello... Mr? It is nice to meet you. I am Nuinyulma."

[Derakis]

Suddenly the door to the Inn opens. Some of the patrons shiver as the warmth of the building starts to escape through the open door. Fortunately, the new patron is consciences enough to step inside and close it quickly.

He is dressed in a travel stained, dark green cloak, clasped around the throat by round brooch with a white gem in the middle. As he reaches up to pull the hood away from his face, leather bracers can be seen on his arms. He has short, dark brown hair, and deep green eyes. He has a small pack on his back, along with an unstrung shortbow and about 10 arrows. At his side is a long silver sword of fine craftsmanship, in a black sheath. His tunic is dark gray, and he wears a black studded leather vest above it. His trousers are black, and his boots are of black leather, with a silver knife in a sheath on the left boot.

Stepping over and sitting at the bar, he removes his pack and places it beside him. He then waits for the bartender to take his order.

Gwaraent walked towards the Green Dragon Inn with a spring in his step, and a tune on his lips. His brisk journey of two days from Bree had been completed without event. The stars overhead shone their silvery light down upon him, and this lifted his heart even more. He had felt drawn to The Shire. He had set out from Bree, where he had spent a few days doing odd-jobs for the locals in return for food and shelter. He didn't ask for much in return, just enough for him to continue his journey to The Shire, and ultimately the Green Dragon Inn.

His heart was given another lift upon seeing the sign of the Inn, knowing his immediate goal had been completed. Initially he hadn’t intended of ending up at the Green Dragon Inn, but after meeting a few folk from Bree who had recommended it as a friendly and warm place to stay, he decided that it was the place to go.

Gwaraent stopped a few paces short of the entrance, and admired the Inn. Feeling proud of himself to have come this far, and on his own no less, his mother would have indeed been proud of him. For the first time since his journey, he felt a twinge of sadness. He missed the life he had a few years ago, but after his parents had died in his twenty-fourth year; he needed to prove to himself that he could make it on his own.

Forcing a smile on his lips, he plucked up the courage to stride forth into the Inn. Upon entering he felt the warmth of the roaring hearth, the smell of the many intoxicating beverages and saw the hazy cloud of smoke from the pipe-smokers. He felt as though this had always been his home.

Gwaraent, made his way towards an open spot at the bar. He smiled at the barkeep, his smile as always beaming with enthusiasm and hopefulness. After he finally got her attention, he politely asked for a room for the night, and a refreshing pint of local ale. Standing at the bar, he let his eyes roam over the people and the furnishings, with every passing second he felt more at home. He felt the need to sleep in a warm bed before he hassled the folks of the Inn with questions about work in the area.

With that he retired to his room for the night, and slipped into dreams of happiness and prosperity.

[Jack]

Éofalas finished grooming Wyn and sighed. He was going to go back to the inn and get another cup of ale. This time he would get a room and probably sleep for awhile, maybe a few hours at most. A lady had greeted him, that was something. He grinned to himself; he hadn't been exactly social so far, after he had had some sleep he would be more social. She was an elf he had noticed; there were lots of elves around here. Were there any other men from Rohan here? If there were he hadn’t seen them yet.

Pausing at the counter to get himself a room Éofalas noticed again that elf that had greeted him in the stable. He gave her a nod which she returned. Éofalas decided to skip the ale and go to bed. Now!

Éofalas stepped into his room, it was nice, vary nice. Not fancy but clean and rather spacious for one person. He swung his bag down on a small table and collapsed on the bed. It had been five days since he had had a good sleep. The bed was soft... he was so tired... so tired...

[Elfwine]

Sharp ears caught the casual whispers, and large eyes shifted towards the group of two. Narrowing his steady gaze, he studied the little ones that'd approached carefully, but was quick to smile when he realized they were non but the taver-folk come to greet him.

The wan smirk faded quickly as he arched his back a ways from the hunched position he'd gotten used to. Straightening, he half-turned to face the young ladies, a curtain of yellow light pouring over his once-shadowed features. Long fingers curled into fists that disappeared behind the cuffs of his sleeves. Letting out a shiversome sigh, his undivided attention now belonged to those who sought it.

"'Afternoon..." He ventured after the short silence that'd overcome the corner of the tavern. His voice was soft, low as usual. He cocked his head to one side and awaited a reply.

[Enif]

Though it was raining, Enif thought it was quite a lively day, maybe because she had been taken buy the liveliness of the inn. Anyhow she felt a lot better, more relaxed, she even found her self whispering to the tune of some music.

She noticed two young hobbits carrying trays with mugs, tea, and food; always smiling, very friendly indeed she thought. They served the others tables until they suddenly were aware of her sitting there on the corner. The two hobbits came towards her and presented their selves, they were Ruby and Buttercup, they worked at the inn. They brought her a plate of food and a mug tea, excused themselves, and went back to work.

The inn was crowded, and to her surprise many elves could be seen their, she looked for a while at an elf that seem to pay as much atention to what was happening all around as she was, she thought he said 'Afternoon...' but the sound was overcome buy the crowd, so she smiled in reply.

Many men were there too, most of them seemed to her like soldiers and rangers from Gondor or horseman from Rohan. Enif noticed as a man in a dark green cloak with leather boots and a knife at the left boot came in, she smiled at him just in time for him to loose himself in the crowd.

She finished her breakfast, took her plate and mug to the bartender and thanked him.
Then, with a certain effort not to bump anyone or to any table, she made her way to stable, in the way she saw this man, apparently from Rohan in his way back to the inn, he looked a bit tired, still she smiled at him. Enif entered the stable and found Starmane, her steed, eating hay, when the animal noticed her presence it seemed quite happy to see her.
She spent a good time grooming the animal...

[Elennar Starfire]

A grey horse, bearing a rider wrapped in a cloak, walked slowly to the stable. The rider dismounted, weariness evident in her movements, and led the horse inside. She pushed back the hood of her cloak, revealing golden hair and green eyes, and also that she was of elven blood. "Yes, Muinanar, now we can rest," she whispered as she stroked the horse's nose. She pulled up her hood again and went to the inn.

As she entered, she scanned the room as though looking for someone. She noticed the man sitting alone in the corner, and headed in his direction.

"You are Amryn?" she asked, as she reached the table, pulling back her hood again.

"I am, but I do not think I know you," the man replied.

"I am Úrúvanén, cousin of Lalmion. He asked me to meet you, as he is unable to come."

"Sit," said Amryn, "and tell me why Lalmion cannot meet me."

Úrúvanén sank gratefully into the chair Amryn indicated. "He did not tell me why, but he gave me this, and told me to give it to you," she said, holding out a letter. Amryn took it and began to read.

[Elora]

As Uien sat at the table in the kitchen, finishing a slice of Cook's warm, malty bread laded with butter and honey, she turned something over upon the table top. It was a small thing, a triffle, and yet more. The small brooch was cleverly crafted. Silver and gold wire twisted into the shape of a star by dwarven hands. The wires clasped a clear green stone that flashed in the soft, water logged light of the morning.

She'd carried this small brooch so far on her travels, tucked in her pouch. Well she remembered the day she had been given it. It was the day she had stepped out into the world once more, seeking kin she had been sundered from by icy storm and the terrible orc pits. The Dwarves that had found and then sheltered her as she recovered had gathered to farewell their Elvish guest.

Most were silent, watching in their canny way. Some cleared their throats from behind their thick beards and shifted their doughty weight. One had stepped forward and smiled up into her face. "As in the time of our fathers, we give you this. Carefully worked by our craftsmen, it is a sign of the friendship between you and our people." There had been murmurning at that. Friendship between Elves and Dwarves not all believed in.

"Keep it with you and you will known by our folk. Our fires and beer and halls we will share with you. May your road lead you to many riches and good fortune, Uien." Then he had bowed deeply as Uien held the proffered brooch. It had been hard to know what to say. Part of her wished to remain under the mountain, hidden in the dark fastness of their halls. Part of her wished for the freedom of the endless sky, the twilight.

"My fires, halls and succour are at your service also. Namárië," Uien had offered in return simply. There was some more muttering at her use of Elvish. Uien expected that reaction and said nothing of it, as she had done so through her long recovery. The Dwarves had never taught her their tongue and so she could only honour them with her own. Then, with brooch in hand, she had turned away from the mountain and started to make her way down it and into the lands beyond.

At the time she had never thought to be sitting in the kitchen of an inn at Bywater, contemplating trading it for supplies. Uien closed her hand around it and stood. She rejoined the bustle of the commonroom with her decision made. She'd trade everything she owned if it helped Falowik find Eodwine.

She made her way to a table where a Hobbit sat behind baskets and began. She had to buy bread, dried meat and fruit. Candles would also be of use, rope too. Once she had the necessary supplies, she'd then arrange to purchase a horse, if possible. The first Hobbit she approached looked at the dwarven brooch in astonishment. He scratched his head, as if determining whether he'd accept it.

Uien recalled the hobbit love of all things unusual and made a last ditch at coming to an agreement.

"It would make a fine mathom," she suggested. "There are few in all the world who have these, if I do not miss my guess." Uien was relatively confident of that statement. Afterall, Dwarves were not in the business of offering up their halls to any who wandered by their mountains. At the mention of the word mathom, added to what Uien had said of it's dwarven origins and its significance between the ancient races of Elf and Dwarf, the hobbit's deliberation ceased.

With a smile, he extended his hand and Uien dropped the brooch into it. It was like a break with her past. "Now, it was breads you was after? I don't have non of that Elvish stuff.... lembas is it? But I have plenty of good ground wheat and cracked corn grown here in the Shire and made into fine bread."

And so it began. Uien moved through the table, adding to her supplies until she had enough as best she could guess. Her pouch was significantly heavier than when it had been with the brooch. Silver and a few gold coins were left. Uien balanced her parcel of supplies on her hip.

"Pretty little trinket you gace away back there," Falco said from behind her. Uien turned to him with her reply, "Trinkets are of no use when out in the wilds without food. Hardly sensible." She smiled faintly at him, recalling his insistance that sensible was what Eodwine's rescue party had to be. Falco snorted and crossed his arms, peering up into her face.

"So you give away a rare Dwarven brooch for supplies for this Elvish riding party, all for Falowik and one lost Rohan messagener whom you've never met. He may not even exist? Falowik could be making this all up, or he murdered him and took his pack. Sensible..."

Uien's grip around her bundle tightened as the Shiriff came to his conclusion.

"I would trade my family's wealth, my father's sword, on no more than Falowik's word and the life of even a Shiriff of Bywater, and I have met you and should think better of such an arrangement!"

Uien forcibly relaxed her tightening grip on her newly purchased supplied. Falco Boffin was very close to having bread and quite a few other items dropped on his head and it seemed he caught some sense of this.
The Shiriff stepped back. Perhaps after she had tossed the bread slices at him yesterday over lunch he knew what to look out for.

"You wouldn't need to," Falco said triumphantly. "I don't go about getting myself lost." With that, Falco sauntered off, pleased to have gotten one better than Uien for a change. She let him go, muttering to herself, "Pity." Halfred, who had witnessed the exchange with avid interest, grinned widely as he took in what Uien had replied.

Uien was determinedly gazing out a window at the rain that fell. Outside were a growing number of ponies and horses. She sighed in frustration with herself. She had no time for this sort of ill-tempered bickering with a Shiriff. Uien found an out of the way spot to tuck her well wrapped provisions in the kitchen and got about her duties. She left, snagging her only just dry cloak from its peg by the door and venturing out into the rain.

Before long, Uien was beyond damp. She paid no heed to the summer rain as she saw each horse and pony to a dry stall, rubbed it down and ensured it had ample straw and grain before seeing to the next. As she worked, Uien thought about her words and a smile came to her face. Imagine if she had sold her father's sword for this. She would do so without compunction. She could hear the outcry now. "But why, Uien?" Uien knew her reply.

"Beacause without a sword you cannot go to be killed in battle father, and there is Falowik Laureätan." In the downpour, Uien began to hum lightly, heart light with that realisation. How much she would have liked for her family to meet this man. Her mother would have understood, Uien knew. In time, so too would have her father and brothers. They would have seen how happiness welled forth beyond the shadow of her past to shine undiminished once more and that would be enough for them as it was for her.

In the stables, horses newly stalled steamed in the warm dry air and champed on their feed as Uien came and went, humming all the while.

[piosenniel]

Buttercup watched as the man cocked his head to one side. ‘Why he looks a bit like my Uncle Willem’s pet crow,’ she thought to herself. ‘It’s his eyes. Yes, that’s it. He’s got us in his sight like some interesting bauble, and he’s keeping his eye on us.’ She shivered just a bit, and looked away. That crow had always made her a little uncomfortable, as if it were sizing her up and had found her wanting.

Her pursuit of these thoughts was cut short as Ruby stepped nearer the man, and curtsied, a smile of welcome on her face. ‘Begging your pardon, sir, but we’re just serving second breakfasts and noticed you’ld come in.’ She grabbed Buttercup by the elbow and pulled her forward. ‘This is Buttercup. And I’m Ruby. And if there’s anything you’re needing in the way of a meal to fill an empty belly, or a drink to soothe a dry throat, or a room to rest in . . . well, then, please . . . let us know. We’d be happy to accommodate.’

She pinched the silent Buttercup on the back of the arm. The young Hobbit’s cheeks crimsoned and she curtsied, too, raising her eyes to meet the man’s grey ones. ‘Well, perhaps I’ve got it wrong,’ she reasoned, seeing the hint of a smile on his face. ‘Or not ,’ she continued, seeing the brief smile fade. She squirmed a little under his steady scrutiny.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she spoke up. ‘Cook’s made a grand breakfast, sir,’ she said, gathering confidence as she rattled off the offerings. There were eggs, scrambled with herbs from the Inn’s garden; thick slices of ham from Hobbiton; whole grained bread made that morning, toasted to a just right crispness; sweet cream butter, and Cook’s own jams, thick with the bright memories of summer – sweet-tart gooseberry and honeyed plum. ‘And honeyed buns, sir,’ she went on, ‘with currants and nuts all through them.’

Ruby chimed in with the offering of drinks – ale, and wine, and sweet-spice tea. And milk, too, if that was what he wanted.

Breathless after their recitation of the menu, the two Hobbits stood with expectant expressions on their faces, waiting to see if something had struck his fancy. Buttercup’s gaze dropped down to where his hands might have been, had they not been nearly hidden in the depths of his shirt cuffs. ‘What’s he hiding,’ she wondered to herself.

A moment of boldness assailed her, and she looked back up at his face. ‘We can’t keep calling you ‘Sir’,’ she said. ‘It’s a bit awkward, and, well . . . unfriendly like. You’ve got our names now, haven’t you? So, now, what should we call you?’

[Jack]

A tall man cloaked in dark grey slipped off his horse and walked quickly up to the inn. Inquiring of the barkeeper the man walked up the stairs towards Éofalas’s room.

Éofalas woke with a start, someone was pounding on his door rolling out of bed Éofalas hit the floor, hard. "Ouch… how long have I been sleeping?" Éofalas moaned to himself. He couldn’t remember sleeping so hard since… oh a long, long time. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes he opened the door.

“Thendrul!” Éofalas gasped. “So good to see you.”
“I wish I could say the same…” Thendrul said, a note of sorrow in his voice. “You look tired my old friend.”

“Yes I am I admit, but what brings you here of all places?” Éofalas asked.

Thendrul stared at him with his pale grey eyes. “Your grandmother wants you... Will you come back?"

Éofalas frowned his own blue-grey eyes meeting Thendrul's. "No... no not yet, not now." Éofalas sighed heavily.

"I didn't think you would... I told the poor lady so, comeing up on her sixty-eighth winter is it not?" Thendrul said sadly.

Éofalas nodded, "Give her my greetings and say I will come in a few weeks, perhaps..."

"She said to give you this," Thendrul pushed the ring into Éofalas's hand and turned abruptly and walked quickly down the hall.

Éofalas stared after him. Then he started after him, “Thendrul, Thendrul wait…” He dodged various people in the main room of the inn. “Thendrul…” By the time Éofalas reached the courtyard Thendrul was gone… Éofalas heard the sounds of Thendrul’s horse as it galloped away from the inn.

The rain pored down on him as he stared at the ring in his hand. It was silver, to dragons entwined around it, worked into the precious medal. To golden gems twinkled in the dull light.

Was it his imagination or did the rain begin fall harder. Turning Éofalas climbed the steps and went back into the inn. He felt tired again, but denying himself the right to return to his room he ordered some ale and sat out of the way to observe the people around him.

There seemed to be a market in the large room. Stalls lined the wall as hobbits, elves, and men milled around them. He saw a stall of candles; he could us one or two of the big drippy ones. Standing he made his way over to the stall.

[Carlas]

Athril walked slowly into the inn, as a smile crept upon her young face, feeling the sweet warmth of the hearth for the first time in what felt like ages. She stood for awhile just looking around the old inn, remebering.

She strode silently over to a small table by the fire, recognising only a few faces. It had been so long since she had been here, and there were so many new people and things, but it still felt the way it used to, warm and welcoming. She doubted that many would remeber her, only a few close friends who she had already gone to chat with for awhile, she had always been a bit shy.

She sat for a long time, looking around at the small inn and its many other patrons. She had missed this place, it had ment a lot to her, it was pratically home. She didn't feel like getting a room, though she was wiery from her long journey home, she had come a long way, and didn't want to leave it, even for sleep, just yet.

[Derakis]

Taking another glance around he decides that this place is friendly enough. He runs his hand through his slightly damp hair and considers the Inn's occupants.

The first thing he notices is the unusual number of Elves. "I thought they had all gone West, except for our Queen of course." He concludes that they must be on their way to the Havens.

He notices nothing else out of the ordinary. Waiting for one of the barkeeps to serve him, he proceeds to play with a silver ring with a large red gem in the middle on his right ring finger.

[Lumiel]

A new light seemed to be in Lumiel since Uien had consented to let Lumiel come with her. She smiled and laughed at the antics of the fellow patrons, and felt her first remembered joy with other people since the shadow that lay all to recently in her past.

Yet, she thought still about what she had agreed to do, and made sure to keep her things, few though they were, ready and packed for the time when they would depart. She had also noticed a hobbit, Falco, who seemed a bit uppity to Uien, and she wasn't sure why. Curious about this, and concerned of other matters, she left the dry warmth of the Inn and stepped out into the refreshing summer rain and into the stable, where a pleasant moist feeling permeated.

Uien was busying herself in the stables, as Lumiel had discovered was her habit. "Uien?" she spoke softly with a youthful voice and wide eyes, catching the woman's attention. "I was just wondering...I have no horse to travel on, do you know who I could buy a horse from? I have enough money for that." Lumiel nodded her head slightly as Uien told her and paused, uncertain about whether to ask or not, but her curiosity won over. "Uien, that Falco, why does he harass you so? I guess I'm a little confused about why he acts like that. If you don't want to explain, I understand..." she said, yet her eyes showed her eagerness to know.

[Enif]

Enif finished grooming Starmane, the rain was still falling. She went back to the Inn where, for her surprise more elves had arrived, or at least she hadn't seen them before. A young maiden sited buy the fire alone and a blonde maiden sited in the company of a man. The elf who bore a silver knife on the left boot now bore a silver ring with a red gem, and was sited alone also. Jus as she gave two or three steps she noticed a yellow light coming from the window, the rain had just stopped.

She thought to herself that now would be a good time for another mug of tea, thought she couldn’t see a free spot except for one place in the bar. She sited buy the bar, just next to her was the man she saw leaving the stables, he looked worried. Now he also bore a ring, Enif overheard the bartender when she brought him his ale: ‘Here you go… Éofalas right?’ ‘Yes, thank you…’ he replied, she to took the chance to ask the her for another mug of tea. A few seconds after the bartender left Enif turned to the man and said shyly ‘Good morning. It’s quite a pleasant morning isn’t it… Erm… Éofalas is it?’

[Elora]

Uien's smile for Lumiel paused as the young woman asked her question. She stiffled a sigh as the rhythmic drumming of the rain on the stable's roof slowed and then ceased. Her expression was rueful as she did her best to explain matters concerning the Shiriff and herself.

"There is a difference of opinion between Falco and I that brought us to open disagreement. I my haste and anger, I gave voice to my opinions. It concerned Falowik, who is not as dubious or nefarious as the Shiriff would have us believe.

"I see a different man, and so would any who cared to look. I voluteered my services as a healer then and there and set about to aid Falowik in gathering together a search party for Eodwine. The Shiriff thinks I am meddling where I do not belong and I seem to be unable to hold my tongue where he is concerned."

There was regret in Uien's voice, for she was not ordinarily disposed to such open disagreement. It was only that Falowik meant so very much to her that she seemed to come out with her sword drawn every time Falco Boffin mentioned him. She tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear and smiled at Lumiel once more.

"My work here is done for the time being, and I too have need of a horse. Let's see who we can find," she said in a change of tack. Lumiel nodded, uncertain still.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to pry," she said apologetically. Uien shook her head gently and waved the concession away.

"Lumiel, you have nothing to apologise for. I intend to do what I can to rememdy matters between myself and Falco before we reach Bree, even if it means tying my scarf around my mouth to stop any retorts that seem to leap from it. It is the least I owe those who travel with me... and Falowik. Such dischord is of little use to any but Eodwine's captors.

"Let's see if we can find a man about a horse," Uien finished with a trace of humour. She had heard such expressions used amongst mortals before and Lumiel responded with an amused smile of her own. The two stepped out into the brightening day, Uien wondering about how to make amends with the stubborn hobbit Shiriff and Lumiel wondering just who this Falowik was.

[ElenCala Isil]

Túrelie gasped when the Amarië told her name. Then all her assumptions were correct, Amarië could tell her of her past. Where to start, Túrelie wanted to know, everything. Why was she kept from all this.

"Then it is you, but tell me, Amarië. Why was this letter also addressed to you?"

Túrelie looked upon Amarië, who was looking down at the box containing the jewel. She wondered how the jewel came to her. So many things to be answered, and yet Amarië would be reluctant to tell. Túrelie knew she would have to read between the lines, but she didn't care. At long last she would know about her family, about her past!

[Elfwine]

'"Unfriendly like"...' He thought to himself as the two babbled on, one after the other nervously. Letting out an inaudible sigh, he came to his senses and put on the best smile he could come up with; a small one that barely raised either side of his mouth. Even so, his hard gaze softened, and the icy gray that once drilled holes into the air melted into the calming waves of the sea after a storm.

Nodding after each was finished, he stiffled a chuckle as they stepped back, a bit out of breath. Crossing his arms, he cast his gaze downwards momentarily before raising it to rest it lightly upon the little ones. "My humblest apologies, little Miss Buttercup." He said in his smooth voice, afterwards nodding to the other hobbit in acknowledgement. "You may call me Auryn." -he paused reassuringly- "And I'm afraid I've not the biggest appitite, but I could use a pint to rid myself of this chill."

[ September 30, 2003: Message edited by: Elfwine ]

[Esgallhugwen]

The rain let up, Esgallhugwen frowned as the clouds began to part. She had climbed into the tree in the front watching all the new guests pass by into the Inn without so much as noticing her, being an Elf and all, it was customary to be stealthy and cunning.

Many Elves she noticed had come in as well as some men that were perhaps from Gondor or Rohan, it was hard to discern with their faces shadowed by their hoods from the rain. The green crystaline leaves of the tree began to melt with the coming rays of the sun; brining forth brighter green.

Esgallhugwen smiled at the leaves still holding within them the remnants of the sound of rain. She dropped down gracefully from the tree and went into the Inn.

People in the Inn stared agast at the tall wet yet beuatiful figure, as if she emerged from the very sea glistening with dew. Cook spoke to her of getting lunch ready, but not wanting the sandwiches to become soggy she stepped across the treshold towards the fire to dry off.

[Elennar Starfire]

Amryn finished the letter and laughed. "It is nothing so serious, just a few orcs that needed dealing with. I must admit I was I bit worried at first."

An expression of anger and annoyance came to Úrúvanén's face. "So that is why I was sent. I am never allowed to fight, every time there are a few orcs to deal with, there is something else I must do. I have skill equal to Lalmion, yet I am sent away. Will I never have a chance to show that I am not a silly girl, who would flee at the first sign of trouble?"

She stood up, and hurriedly went out to the stables, not wanting anyone to see the tears in her eyes.

[piosenniel]

‘A pint it is, then, Master Auryn!’

Buttercup managed a smile of her own, and ran to fetch him a foaming mug of nut brown ale. ‘That’ll warm you down to the hair on your toes!’ she said, presenting him the pint; then blanched as she realized what she’d just said. With all the Big Folk passing through these days, it was hard to remember what was polite to them and what was not. She hoped she hadn’t offended him.

‘Best not to back track,’ she thought. ‘It will just get more tangled.’

With a quick nod to him, she raced off after Ruby, who had drifted on to another group of hungry and thirsty customers . . .

[Arveleg]

After a hearty breakfast and an afterward smoke, Sarn saw that the rain had paused.

"I will be on my way now. What do I owe you?"

He settled with the innkeeper, and he went for the door. The fresh rain-washed summer air felt good, but as the summer sun started to warm the lands, the humidity started to rise. It will be a good day to walk the fields of the North Farthing.

[Derakis]

Derakis was lost in thought. It had been a long road from Gondor, and dangerous, even in these "peaceful" times. Orcs and evil Men will still abroad though slightly less active then they were during and before the War. How long had it been since he had seen Minas Tirith? A year? More?

Coming out of his revere he noticed one of the hobbit girls was taking orders from a group near him. He caught her eye as she looked in his direction. "Just some milk, and some bread, please."