The Green Dragon Inn - Part 4

[Everdawn]

Aleia pointed to the men, "Rangers" she had said. I do know about them. she thought. "I know they do look a little intimidating, but they are trustworthy." said Madea in a matter-of-factly tone. "Why, if it werent for them, I- I dont know where i would be. You see MSTook-"

"Call me Aleia lass!" It had completely slipped Madea's mind, she was so used to addressing people so fomally. "OH, I am so sorry, as i was saying, they are responsible for allowing my safety." she smiled. "Nice men, at least when you get past the hard exterior. Perhaps later we may have a conversation with one?"

The hobbit then went on to explain the hobbits and the shire. "well, if its something us Gondorians know about, it's war... especially my family." she sighed. "I am so gald you have had not taste of it, my friend, it is so horrible. And i do agree, hobbits are the most charming folk, take yourself for instance. You have so much life, i do admire you, infact i wish i could be more like you." Madea removed her black fur lined cloak and placed it in her lap.


"do you like mathoms?"
Medea was slightly embarassed, "I cant say ive ever been to one." she smiled a little. Her dark eyes beaming against her black hair, making her look slightly cheeky, but definitly older than one who was almost seventeen.

[piosenniel]

To refresh everyone's memory:

Green Dragon Inn Facts:

It is the 4th Age, year 12. By the Shire Calendar it is year 1433 S.R. (Shire Reckoning).

King Elessar is on the throne.

Paladdin Took, Pippin’s father, is Thain of the Shire. (Thain is an honorary title for the military leader of the Shire. The title has been held in the Took Family since the position was first established in 3rd Age 1979 with Bucca of the Marish as First Thain.) Paladdin Took dies in year 13, and will be succeeded by his son, Peregrin, ‘Pippin’, Took.

Samwise Gamgee is Mayor of the Shire, having succeeded Will Whitfoot in 1427 S.R.

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is:

Aman – a young woman from Rohan. Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

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

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

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

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

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

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

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

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

At present it is late afternoon in the Shire. The season is mid-Summer.

[piosenniel]

New Game Discussion Threads still taking on Characters:

Corsairs and Corsets, owned by a trio of Shire writers needs a number of court people to fill their ranks.

Please check this Game out and see if you can craft a good character and First Post for it.

~~ Pio, Shire Mod

[Nerindel]

Lespheria shook her head and sighed sadly as Vanwe rushed from the room, again running from her problems she thought. For a minute she thought that the elven woman had genuinely misunderstood her question, but she had seen that she was avoiding everyone's gaze even her own, though it did not look like it to the others. A dissembling tactic she had seen used many times in the courts of both Rohan and Gondor, although not used nearly as well as Vanwe had just done, the woman had obviously had much practice.

Feeling the others watching her stare at the closed door, she turn to them, her warm inviting smile once again played on her lips. "I am afraid that I too must get back to work. now! Miss Benia you should not think to riding with that ankle, at least for a few days."

Benia nodded her understanding and thanked her again for her help. As she opened the door to leave she could smell the delightful smells of the kitchen wafting through the entire inn. She paused closing her eyes and inhaled deeply taking in the delectable smells. As she opened her eyes she saw the badly scared ranger watching her, no not her the door beyond her she thought. Seeing her gaze he casually averted his eyes, as he did she stepped back through the still open door and turning to Gilly she said " Miss If you would come with me I will arrange some lunch that you can bring up for yourself and Miss Benia."

Gilly hesitated clearly not wishing to leave her friend alone with Silvanis, who she barely knew. "Do not worry, I do not think that Silvanis holds any ill will towards your friend, in fact I believe that Silvanis trades pelts with the southern peoples." as she spoke Silvanis nodded his agreement. "I will be fine" Benia assured her over protective friend.

Nodding she followed Léspheria from the room. Léspheria escorted the hobbit woman to the kitchen paying the shifty looking ranger no heed. Once in the kitchen Vinca stopped stirring the soup and asked "How is the patient then?, did the tea help?" "yes it did and the patient is fine all be it a little hungry" she grinned replacing the box she had brought back with her to its place on the shelf. "Oh miz Gilly, don't tell me it was your friend that injured herself!" cook exclaimed seeing the hobbit woman sanding by the door.

Gilly did not seem surprised that cook knew of her and her friend, Lespheria puzzled over this for a second then pushed the thoughts aside, she had other things she wished to tell the hobbit woman.

She took a tray and three small bowls from the shelf, "No! No! the bigger ones" Vinca scolded pointing to the larger soup bowls that sat on a lower shelf. She grinned as she bent down and took the bowls. Placing them on the tray she handed them to Vinca, the hobbit woman then proceeded to fill the bowls to the very top with the thick warm soup, "Mushroom" she said proudly handing the tray to Gilly and without waiting for the younger hobbit woman to reply she went and lifted three crusty white rolls from the counter and placed them carefully on the tray.

As Lespheria brought the spoons she stopped before the hobbit woman and said in a calm voice "Did you notice the man with the badly scarred face?" Gilly nodded, Her hobbit features giving the clear indication that she too had not liked the look of him. "He has been watching Benia's room" she continued the hobbit woman's eyes widened with fear for her friend, but lespheria grabbed her gently by the shoulders and continued...

"Their are many men that fought in the war that have not forgotten some of the ill's that the people of the south dealt them and although I do not think that this man is one of them I do believe he is a ranger. I have many friends among the rangers to the north of this land and they have often told tales of rangers who hire out their skill to whom ever will pay the most for them and I feel that this man may be one of them, these things I speak are merely feelings and hold no real certainty. But I bade you to tell Benia to be careful and that when she decides she wishes to leave, I am sure we can arranged for her departure to go unnoticed, if she so wishes it."

The hobbit woman was stunned by Léspheria words but she nodded that she would do as she asked. As Gilly turned to leave Léspheria whispered to her, "Take a deep breath miz Gilly it would be most wise if you walk back to the room looking as though we have spoken of no more than the soup you are carrying. The hobbit woman nodded and taking a deep breath she pushed through the door to the common room.

Lespheria was about to follow when she felt a hand grasp her wrist, "And were do you think you are off to" Vinca scolded. Lespheria lifted a puzzled eyebrow, "Do not think I have not noticed that you have not eaten since breakfast!" Vinca continued waving her finger warningly. Léspheria bit back a chuckle and sat, she had totally forgotten that she had no yet had lunch herself. Not wishing to incur the wrath of the strong willed hobbit woman, she heartily ate the soup placed before her. "That was simply the best soup I have ever tasted" she complimented, as she washed up her dishes. Vinca beamed proudly but said nothing.

Léspheria then grabbed a damp cloth from beside the sink and went out into the common room to wipe down the tables. As she worked she kept a close eye on the battle scarred ranger, she also made a mental note to tell Aman of her concerns at the first opportunity.

It was late in the afternoon when she saw Vanwe enter the kitchen, she thought to go speak with the elven woman in private, but that would mean removing her watch of the ranger. No! she thought resolutely the elven woman would come to her when she was ready.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Nurumaiel]

Ruddyn opened his eyes and blinked in the bright sunlight that was streaming through the small window by his bed. He blinked again with confusion. He was sure he had closed the curtains earlier that morning when he had told Fendadia he was taking a short nap. Fendadia must have crept into his room and pulled them open. She would do that back home, as well, if he were sleeping in too late. So what time was it?

Ruddyn threw back the warm blankets and sat up in bed. What a beautiful bed, as well! Ever since he and Fendadia had left Gondor it had been roots as matresses and rocks as pillows. He felt amazed to think how they had ever kept up energy to reach the Shire. Why, after that sleep he had just had, he felt as though he could walk a week without stopping.

Reaching down to the floor, he picked up his boots and slid them on his feet one at a time, quickly lacing them up. Standing up, he grinned as his feet hit a wooden floor. When was the last time he had walked on wood. He could just imagine Fendadia's voice saying, "This morning, when you walked into the inn."

It didn't take Ruddyn long to get downstairs. He was accustomed to sleeping in his clothes so Fendadia and he could set out from wherever they were camping in just a few minutes, and he hadn't yet got out of that habit.

His boots hit heavily on the stairs as he traveled downwards, his nostrils catching the smell of food baking. No doubt Fendadia was already eating, or had finished. As he finished the last few steps, he asked himself again what time it was. He had forgotten to look up at the sun to see when he had woken up a few minutes earlier.

Fendadia was sitting at a table right by the stairs, probably to wait for him. He didn't even see her and was about to walk right by her, but she caught hold of his sleeve and pulled him down into the empty chair across form her, grinning widely as if she had just played some good joke on him. "You're finally awake," she said, chuckling softly.

"What time is it?" Ruddyn asked, confused. No need to ask what was so funny. He would most likely know that when he knew what the time was.

"It's afternoon already," his little sister replied, and then she laughed aloud as she saw his bewildered amazement. She pointed to an empty plate in front of her. "Dinner is already through, and they're probably getting ready for supper right now, but if you're really hungry you can ask for a late dinner."

Ruddyn was starving, but he felt embarrassed having slept in so late, and he didn't want to go apologize for that and ask for a late dinner. The bother they'd have to go through, and soon everyone at the inn would know that he had slept in late. He took a deep breath and then smiled pleasantly at Fendadia. After all, he had only taken a very long nap. "I'm not hungry," he said. "I can wait."

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

As of late Dorelnar could feel things in the world that where not there before. Just and true was the lady that sat near him now. She seemed drawn to him and he to her.

But why......?

The intricate pattern of her dress and the beauty of her face was liken to a light from heaven. But she was a high born much to special for him. Yet he knew this light in her would draw him near no matter how he tried.

He remembered the words of the wise. "Woe to those that kinder warmth in there hart for those of the first born."

All the orthers laughed and told storys he seems in good company. But still he could not stop looking on this fair Elvin maiden.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Dorelnar ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

OCC: I am so sorry

Aman stood just behind the door, one hand on the handle, ready to turn it as fast as possible. Buttercup was outside the door, positioned at the bar, awaiting the signal. Aman counted to three slowly, then yelled something incomprehensible, or if there were actual words in it, they would certainly be incomprehensible through the door. Buttercup heard this signal and immediately took a deep breath and yelled in her biggest voice across the common room:

"The mathoms display is outside in the stableyard NOW!"

There was a confused moment, then the entire mob of mathom-mad hobbits, curious men and elves, and just about everyone else in the Inn who had managed to get caught in the crowd, all turned as one and charged out the door with the air of a determined balrog crossed with an insane oliphaunt. Aman smiled at this image as she twisted the handle sharply and threw herself out of the room and straight behind the bar, hands over head to protect against the wall of the mob/deranged oli-rog, as she had begun to think of it, the door being slammed shut from behind by Ruby.

After a second in which all of the Inn was quiet, Aman's eyes popped up over the bar and swivelled furtively around. When she was sure the coast was clear, she stood up with all the dignity she could muster, brushing her dress down and smoothing back her hair. Buttercup nodded solemly, trying to suppress her smile. "Nicely done, miss."

"Thankyou, Buttercup. Thanks to my cunning plan and your bravery and faithfullness to it, we have once more evaded the oli-rog." Aman replied with similar solemnity. They shared a look for a moment, then burst out laughing together.

"Aman!"

The righteous, matronly voice cut through their laughter. Buttercup suddenly realised that she had to be very busy going back to sort out the mathoms and Aman was left to face the rage of Vinca Bunce. Never challenge the rage of Vinca Bunce. Aman turned guiltily to see the hobbit standing, hands on hips.

"I don't recall seeing you having lunch."

"I can explain-"

"You can explain that you somehow ate the sandwiches despite the fact that they are still on the table."

"Not...exactly...I was just...." She stopped sheepishly. It seemed to be becoming a habit. "Sorry, Cook."

Cook nodded, still disapproving but somewhat less so. "First Vanwe, then you..."

"Vanwe didn't eat lunch either?"

A look of concerned disapproval for Vanwe replaced the look of matronly disapproval for Aman, and she pursed her lips worriedly. "No indeed. She has been acting rather oddly lately. When I caught her looking around in the pantry and accused her of skipping meals then sneaking around my pantry- my voice was firm, mind, no mistake about that, but it wasn't a really strict firmness, more a...kind firmness-"

Aman nodded vaguely, and decided that it was best not to say anything on that score. Cook continued.

"-and she jumped to the conclusion that I was calling her a thief, and seemed awfully upset about such. I called her nothing of the sort, so you know! But then she churned out some cock and bull story about fetching sheets for you. Behind the honey, I ask you..."

But Aman wasn't listening any more. Vanwe's behaviour had been very odd before, when she had been speaking to Benia- all this 'Mistress' business. And she was so thin, and did seem awfully skittish...

"....and you haven't listened to a word I've said in the past minute, have you now?"

"Hmmm?" Aman turned, snapping back to Cook's words. The hobbit sighed, exasperated, then rolled her eyes and nodded to the kitchen. "Oh, never mind. Are you coming to catch up on lunch then?"

"I-" Aman began to make an excuse, before she heard the sound of voices outside, and in particular one sentence that would chill the blood of someone who had just pulled a very temporary cunning plan. The words, muffled from outside, of:

"Hey, the sale isn't out here!"

Aman turned back to Cook and began to propel them both towards the kitchen quickly. Cook was surprised, but glad that Aman had seen sense. Aman took in the room quickly, and even now saw the first hobbit of the Mob come through the door. She would never make it to the room of mathoms again- she had to take another way. Going quickly into the kitchen, she bypassed the table, laden with sandwiches, and the sink where Vanwe was dutifully finishing her washing up, and went to a panel in the wall. The entire kitchen was panelled with wood, but Aman had found out a few tricks since she came. Pushing on each of the panels in a certain area, just to the right of the large cupboard, she found the one she needed and pulled the panel off to reveal a tunnel into the mathom room.

Cook stared, too shocked to be outraged. Finally, as Aman pulled up a chair and, hitching her skirts up carefully, scrambled into the tunnel, Cook moved back to safer ground, brandishing the sandwiches. "What about your lunch?"

"Later, Cook. Sorry. Vanwe, come on, we have a mathom sale to run." Aman's muffled voice replied. Vanwe glanced apologetically at Cook, dipping her head, then followed Aman though the tunnel. A second later, there was the sound of feet dropping on the floor of the other side, first one pair, then another.

Cook watched them, gobsmacked, then gave a little "oooohh..." sound as she let her breath out. Still disapproving, but a little impressed now, Cook turned, broom in hand to face the mob outside.

"Right, ladies and gentlemen, there will indeed be a mathom sale- five minutes!"

[piosenniel]

NOTE: THERE ARE TO BE NO SAVES PLACED ON THE GREEN DRAGON INN THREAD.

With the exception of those that may be placed by a moderator or the Innkeeper for special circumstances.

Also, please do not make any OOC (Out Of Character) comments on the Inn Thread - PM the person(s) you need to contact.

Again the exception is for the moderators or Innkeeper to make announcements or adjustments to the storyline.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

The corner's of Aleia's mouth lifted in amusement as she listened to Madea's answer and watched the hobbits, crazed with the possibility of mathoms, stampede out the door. Laughter bubbled inside her and she chuckled out loud. "I'm sorry, lass," she said to Madea. "A mathom is not a party or a place. A mathom is a little trinket, much like one that an older hobbit would get at a birthday-party. Something nice to put on a mantle. Hobbits go wild over them."

Madea turned a little red as she realized her mistake, but shook it off quickly. "Miss Took, about that conversation-"

"Madea Obisentauri! For the tenth time, call me Aleia! I absolutely abhor formalities!" Aleia said heatedly. One thing that she disliked most of all was being called "Miss" or "Ms", except for when she was in charge. Her expression softened when she saw the startled look on Madea's face. "Carry on, girl."

[Ealasaid]

Between the combined efforts of the two elves, Vanwe and Lespheria, Benia found her ankle well bound and set, the pain already subsiding. Grateful, she thanked the both of them, and Silvanis again as well. She drank the thyme tea slowly, savoring the warmth. Before she knew it, the room was empty aside from herself and Silvanis, the others having gone on to other chores, or, in Gilly's case, to fetch dinner.

She smiled at Silvanis over the brim of her tea cup. "I don't know how I can ever repay you," she said in the dialect of the southern desert. "I am forever indebted to you. You and the others. You are all too kind."

In response, Silvanis inclined his head slightly and answered in the same language. "Speaking for myself, m'lady, I can safely say you owe me nothing. I did what any man should do. Nothing more."

"Nothing more!" echoed Benia, dropping back into the common speech. "And certainly nothing less. Even so, I must tell you. I am not one to forget a kindness." She put the now empty tea cup aside. "But, tell me... how is it that one such as yourself would speak the language of my kinsmen?"

Silvanis smiled. "I have done no small amount of travelling in my time," he answered obliquely. "But, by the same token, I might ask how a desert lady such as yourself might come to be this far north."

"I came to visit my friend Gilly," Benia answered, still smiling, but her fingers felt the hem of her bodice for the red stone. "She doesn't travel beyond the borders of the Shire. Therefore, if I wish to see her, I must come north." Locating the stone, Benia slipped it out of the hidden pocket and palmed it neatly between her fingers. Her instincts told her to trust Silvanis, but she still harbored doubts about the stone... if he had been the one to give to her. And, if so, why. Carefully, she repositioned herself on the mat and smoothed her skirts. She gave her ankle a rueful glance. "And, from the look of it, I will be staying in the north for a little while, yet."

He gestured to the open pack in the corner and the pile of packages Gilly had retrieved from the foot of the stairs. "It seems you were preparing to leave."

"I was." For an instant, her expression darkened. There were people who expected her. If she didn't arrive as planned, they would assume that she had been detained or worse. If only someone could get word to them. She gave the Ranger a considering look. But could he be trusted? She felt the stone, small and hard between her fingers. She had to stop wavering. Surely, if Silvanis had meant her harm, he would have done something toward that end by now, she thought. Finally, she came to a decision.

"Could you help me, please?" she asked, holding out her hand. "I would very much like to move to the chair." Taking the proffered hand, Silvanis wrapped his other arm around her waist and assisted her to the chair. When she was seated comfortably, she released his hand.

When he looked down, there on his palm was the red stone, shining darkly in the lamp light.

[Elora]

Tunnels through walls in buildings! Vanwe, suitably bewildered by the mysterious panel Aman had pulled aside, and the entirely dissatisfied mood of the Mathom sale attendees that rippled like a stormy sea, mutely followed Aman through to the mathom room. The announcement that the sale would begin in five minutes meant there was no time for explanations, questions or indeed anything other than hard work.

The mob had moved inside, to get a reckoning of the larrikin who had announced a fictious mathom sale. Aman and Vanwe frantically set out the mathoms that had been saved from the pyre. The stableyard started to fill with a strange array of oddities and curiosities. Meanwhile, inside, hobbits muttered fitfully about pranksters and what happened to people who cried wolf.

"There haven't been wolves here since the Fell Winter of 2911," some said with a great air of knowledge. Debate soon ensued over who had seen a wolf, where and why anyone who lived near the Brandywine River was by definition mad. It took longer than five minutes to set the mathoms out on the trestles that had been arranged in the stableyard, but that was well and good as there was more than one Took descendant who felt impelled to explain why they were not mad and the rest of the Shire plainly was.

In the stableyard, Aman and Vanwe gathered their breath.

"I think that's all of it," Vanwe said.
"There's always more to be found," Aman said ruefully. This was one sale that would not end swiftly. Mathoms had the unusual ability to profligate as soon as one's back was turned. The trouble now was how to get them back out into the stableyards.

"I can open the door and announce the sale has begun if you like. Cook will not take a second delay to lunch," Vanwe observed. Aman saw to retracing their steps back to the mathom room, and the tunnel. What would happen should a curious hobbit find a secret tunnel to a mathom room did not bear considering, and there were a number of Tooks in the immediate vicinity.

Vanwe opened the front doors to the commonroom and conversation stumbled to a halt. She'd never been faced with so many people, faces turned to her in expectation. It was daunting, not least because there was not telling who in that crowd watched.

"The mathom sale has begun in the stable yard, ladies and gentlemen," Vanwe said as loudly as she could. Cook waved her broom and the mob was again on the move. Vanwe raced aside to the thunder of feet and then cries of triumph.

"They're here!"
"Will you look at that!"
"That looks familiar!"

High hobbit voices filled the afternoon and soon the business had begun. There was trading to be done, and Vanwe found herself surrounded by a ring of hobbits, all clutching something and demanding sale. Nothing had prices marked, but despite this the bargaining was already begun before Vanwe could hope to say anything.

"Three coppers!"
"No, ignore her. I'll give you 5!"
"You've already got one. Six coppers"

Around her the bargaining circled, mathoms changing hands, coppers being thrust at her. Vanwe struggled to watch the mathoms that were still being inspected. Two Elves stood in obvious delight as they watched hobbits snap up objects that had no discernable use unless they were a shipwright, a Dwarven smith, a Corsair or some such other remote profession of distant lands. None of this dampened enthusiasm. Be it a plough disk, or a ship's navigational divides, mathoms were mathoms and highly sought after.

Vanwe did as best as she could, coppers soon besting the small pocket she had in her dress. A kindly hobbit doffed his hat as she noticed her struggle with the coins and offered her it.

"Take it," he said as he nodded to a fine seeming mathom, "you'll need it and I need that." Vanwe did not argue, she did need it, and what possible use he had for a very old packet of unidentified seeds she did have the time to wonder about. Around her the bargaining went on. Organised chaos the likes of which she had never seen, not even in the markets of Umbar, and so many copper coins that she could scarcely contemplate how much food, shoes, dresses, nice warm baths or even a horse to spare one's feet could be bought with such wealth.

She let the coins fall into the hat in a seemingly ceaseless stream.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Alatariel Telemnar]

Alatariel went up to the counter and ordered a glass of wine. Taking it she went back to her table in the corner, her hood still towering over her face, leaving it shadowed and barely visible to the common eye. She sat down on the chair facing the rest of the crowd.

She sipped the wine, as she watched the people in the Inn. Most of them were all wrapped up in their lives. None of them paid attention to Alatariel, and she like it that way... She sipped the wine as she watched the other people walk by. They were several races, some that Alatariel knew very little about. She waited there, for him to come...


There was a noise behind her. Alatariel jerked her head around. There, on the ground, was a note, blown by a soft breeze, even thought there were no open windows. She got up and walked over to the note. Picking it up, she saw how messy the handwriting was. The note read:

Dear Marya, I'm sorry I was unable to be here for you return. I am also sorry for the messy writing, but I left in a hurry, and I can't write neat fast. I had to leave on a personal matter, I will return... someday. I did not want ye to wait up for me, I did not want to waste ye time. I cannot write anymore at the moment, but do expect me to keep in touch, from now on I shall go by the name of Mungo.

Goodbye, your hobbit friend, Mungo.

Alatariel reread the messy note, written in red ink. She folded it up, and set it in her pouch. Her fingers hit a cold metal object. She grasped it and took it out. It was a gold charm on a gold chain. She looked over it, and quickly put it away.

Alatariel took the last few sips of her wine, and went out to the stables. She walked over to the black stallion. He neighed at her sight. She walked into his stable. Taking an apple out of her pouch, he stomped his hooves. Alatariel held it out to him, and he took it eagerly. "So bow, how do you like it here? Huh?"

He neighed after finishing the apple. Alatariel smiled, which was still barely visible under her hood. She leaned against him. Then, widening the door, she walked him outside. It started raining as Alatariel said, "Go! Run! Be wild! Have some fun!" The black stallion started in a fast gallop; he trotted away in the rain, Alatariel watching him go...

[Everdawn]

"you see what I mean, when i say i have no idea about the outside world?" Madea laughed. "I really am quite clueless. Yes, i suppose i shall go and take look, couldnt hurt could it? And yes, i do suppose that I should buy one, i do have far and away enough money."

Madea took of her black leather gloves and fiddled thorugh her bag to find a small green pouch enclosing a vast emount of gold.

"Why do you wear so much black Madea? colours would suit you better." The hobbit smiled looking at Madea's black fur lined cloak and riding habit.

"That was a little out of the blue dont you think?" said Madea laughing. "To answer your question, id say that Black, is the only colour that seems to suit my mood. You are right, colour should look better on me. And i do need to get some more clothes. I dont suppose there are shops around that sell dresses for people other than hobbits? am i correct? Perhaps you could tell me where i can find someone whom i can pay for the the service?" replied Madea in her usual polite tone.

[piosenniel]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~* CHARACTERS NEEDED FOR NEW GAME *~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Corsairs and Corsets needs the following characters:

Ladies and Maids/Female Servants for an exciting game of Court intrigue. Good characters and Evil characters welcome.

Also need 1 husband for one of the owners’ characters.

(Male and Female writers welcome to try out for any of these characters. Stretch your writing skills a little – play a character of the opposite sex.)

This will be a very fun Game to write in!

Click HERE for the Discussion Thread for this Game.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

It had troubled Gilly greatly to leave Benia alone with the ranger Silvanis. For although he had shown great kindness, there remained a possibility of his being in league with the more sinister fellow in the commons room. She found comfort in Léspheria’s confidence in the man, and even more in Benia’s apparent trust, but the mention of his trading in the south was not lost on the hobbit. Perhaps the value such a culture had placed on their hospitality to strangers had masked from Silvanis the harshness with which they dealt with one another. It was a harshness no doubt exacerbated by The War, and the deep distrust that the struggle had produced in the region. Benia was a product of this very thing. Her rather influential maternal family had caused a deep rift when they had not chosen the common path of the southerners at that crucial juncture, and from thence stemmed their many misfortunes. Their independent actions were not forgotten nor forgiven them.

Gilly followed Léspheria into the kitchen, realm of Mrs. Vinca Bunce, cook at the Green Dragon. She couldn’t help but smile as she saw Miss Vinca completely at ease surrounded by the tools of her craft. Gilly had been in awe of her vast culinary skills ever since Mr. Bunce’s birthday party many years ago, shortly before his sad passing way. Her smile grew a bit broader as she thought of Mr. Bunce’s sister Myrtle, even now on the steps just outside inn, waiting to see what treasures the inn’s attic had produced. Miss Mytle Bunce had evidently been the beneficiary of her sister-in-law’s active reconnaissance efforts, but this bit of intelligence was safe with Gilly. No need to ruffle anyone’s feathers and I’ve a greater weight on my mind, she reasoned.

“Oh, Miss Gilly, don’t tell me it was your friend that injured herself!” Miss Vinca exclaimed seeing Gilly in the doorway.

“Yes Miss Vinca, I’m afraid it is only too true. Still it is better for her to have injured herself here at the inn than on the road and alone!”

“Well don’t you fret none dear, we’ll have her up and about in no time. Best medicine in the world is proper nourishment and that she will have! No! No, the bigger ones!” the matron boldly scolded Léspheria, who had been preparing a tray with three bowls. “Wholesome food heals broken bones as well as broken spirits!”

After the cook bestowed upon Gilly a tray heavily laden with generous portions of fragrant mushroom soup and crusty bread, Léspheria drew Gilly aside to give her perceptive and earnest counsel before sending her back upstairs.

The hobbit tried to put into practice the elf’s advice, but did manage to see the scared ranger still kept his vigil with back toward the kitchen and eyes frequently returning to the top of the stairs.

Gilly also saw her neighbor Myrtle was tottling over to the bar, mopping her damp face with her handkerchief and examining a sign that was newly hung there. Going by the hobbit unnoticed, Gilly continued up the stairs to rejoin Benia and Silvanis.

Benia was now in the chair with her leg extended out before her resting on a low table. Her sword, no longer behind the chair, had been placed at her left side. Silvanis sat opposite her on the room’s only other chair. The two looked up from their conversation as Gilly entered with their food.
Seeing no place for the hobbit to sit, Silvanis set about procuring an additional chair.

Gilly handed Benia her food speaking softly, “Just as your fall has not gone unnoticed, the arrival of the horseman the morning has also been marked. It seems that he has a watchful eye on this room. But do not fear Miss Benia. You are not alone in this matter. Miss Léspheria has asked me to give you warning and to offer her assistant should you desire a convert departure. She has guessed much.”

[ June 20, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]

[spirit_detective]

Aranti now sat atop the roof, gazing into the west. She pulled out a cloth cover object from her knapsack and pulled the string. A small round orb appeared in her hand, a palantir. Hearing movement outside, she quickly stoed it away and peered over the edge of the roof.

It was only a group of people making their way out. She sat back and crossed her arms in an almost childish manner.

"Oh, where in Eru's name is the girl!" she threw a fallen twig over the edge and scanned the horizon.

"I hope she knows I'm not being payed to wait for her." She stifled herself when she heard the gates opening and watched as the group rode away.

"Why am I worrying myself?" she asked with a rare grin, "She always shows up!" Little did she know, the person she was waiting for wasn't truly that far off.

[Snowdog]

""But, tell me... how is it that one such as yourself would speak the language of my kinsmen?"

Benia asked, her voice seemingly softening as she spoke. Silvanis smiled slightly and said,

'I have done no small amount of travelling in my time, especially after the war. It was then I journeyed south as a representative of King Elessar to Harad and Khand, and though the people were wary of the northerners, they for the most part accepted the new-found freedom under the King. Yet there was troubles, especially with some renegade Variags that hid in the hills of Khand. After my return and my release from the King's service, I returned to the north for a time, living about the Twilight Hills near Evendim, and for a time before returning south. I then spent much time in the desert, at a crossing of the ancient Haradian trading routes that was in the language of Haarad called the Oasis Inn. It was there I learned this dialect.'

Silvanis saw no harm in telling her this, for he had been both north and south in that time. If only he could find peace...

Noting the lady was about to leave, he too was going to leave, and needed to return to Blackveil who had probably returned to the grass field to graze. But as she asked for help to the chair, he took her graceful hand and supported her, assuring she was comfortably situated in the chair. She seemed somewhat hesitant to release his hand, but as she did, there she had slid the stone, just the same way that he aquired it that day at the Oasis!

Silvanis sat in the other chair silent, looking at the stone in his palm then looking at Benia. Yes, she figured who slid her the stone, and as their eyes locked, he was about to say something only the one who had passed him the stone at the oasis would know when the door opened and Gilly came in with Benia's food.

The time spent in converse with Lady Nightshade left him with ever more questions, and he did not fail to take note of how she side-stepped his askance of how she had come to the north. For since if Gilly did not leave the Shire as she said, then how did this friendship between hobbit and southern lady emerge? Yet all have their secrets, and in his mind Silvanis weighed the possibility also that the man who came in just before he carried Benia to her room had interest in her.

Many things he needed to see to before moving on it seemed, and with Gilly's entrance, he closed his hand about the stone and stood, offering the chair to Gilly as he gave a nod to Benia.

'I will visit the common room for a moment and return later with a chair. But for now I leave you ladies to converse and lunch.'

Another look to Benia who seemed concerned that Silvanis was leaving the room, and with his look he tried to re-assure her, and he slipped out the door in silence, letting it close easy behind him.

Silvanis paused outside the door, first spotting the man with the tankard of ale who watched him emerge before sipping his drink, and also strained to hear the faint words of Gilly behind the door.

“Just ....... fall ... not ... unnoticed .... arrival ..... horseman ....... marked. It ........... watch ........... room.”

He heard enough to confirm at least somewhat his question as to whether this man had interest in Benia. Of course being that she is indeed fair to the eye, especially being of the south in these climes, could be all the reason the man had of eyeing her, but one cannot be too sure of thewse things.

Silvanis was down to the commons quickly without a glance to the man, but he watched hin from the edge of his eye, and stepping to the bar he ordered two tankards of wha the man ordered. After the foamy tankards were set, he scooped then in his hands and made way to the table where he sat. His approach drew nary a glance from Kaldir as he drained his mug. Silvanis pulled the chair directly opposite him and sat blocking somewhat his view of the stairwell and the door atop them, which turned his look toward Silvanis.

'Have an ale my friend!'

Silvanis looked him in the eye as he spoke...

[ June 20, 2003: Message edited by: Snowdog ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman had also procurred a hat for herself to store her money in- and coming in it was. As to why there was a top hat in an attic in the Shire was complete mystery, but no matter, mysteries were becoming commonplace as Aman saw mathoms selling that she wouldn't have thought a blind beggar would've wanted. But the Innkeeper was getting a feel for the sale, she thought, and the value of the odd objects.

“I’ll give you two bronze for that.” A red faced hobbit announced, pointing to a bizarrely shaped vase.

Aman raised an eyebrow. It was rather a nice vase, she decided, and decided to attempt bargaining. “Five.”

“I’ll give you five,” he scoffed in reply. “and won’t report you to the authorities for daylight robbery.”

Now both Aman’s eyebrows rose as she thought of Halfred Whitfoot, the postman cum Shirrif. The hobbits cocky expression wavered slightly as he thought of the same, before he spoke again. “Four.” He conceded.

“Done. And this, I’ll throw this in for another three.” Aman offered, holding up a hat, covered in tassels and bright orange in colour. The man’s eyes widened and he nodded violently, but before he could say anything, the hat was grabbed out of his hand by a fierce looking hobbit woman. “I don’t think so! That hat’s my territory!”

“No mine! I wanted it as a souvenir before the rest of you even saw it!” A man, looming about the other two although he was actually several inches shorter than Aman, said, then turned to the Rohirrim woman. “I’ll give you 10 for it!”

Furious gasps from the other two, before the red faced hobbit exclaimed, “You would take something so beautiful for just ten?!”

“You would have taken it for three!” The man replied.

“I never!” Declared the man. He fished in his pocket, pulling out roughly ten bronze coins. “Here, Innkeeper, take this!”

“No you will not! Aman, have 12!”

“Well, I never! Its mine!” the woman threw a few more in.

As the coins poured into the dusty top hat from there and all directions, Aman gave up on trying to intervene, and pulled up two equally bizarre hats which she had spotted previously. “Look, each of you can have one for fifteen bronze!”

“Done!” All three cried at once, and began fishing in bags and pockets for the rest which they had not yet paid. As Aman hadn’t been able to keep up with how much they had put in before, she simply had to trust them, but trust them she did; hobbits took mathoms seriously.

Bewildered by all that was going on, Aman simply stopped trying to intervene, simply returning to the traditional method of coin tossing when there was a dispute, and allowed the chaos around her to keep coming with the money, only coming up on a real problem a few moments later when telling a young elven woman that no, the top hat and all its contents were not for sale. She smiled at Vanwe’s equally bewildered face, and just hoped that that pickpocket wasn’t in the vicinity of the sale…

Mindez walks up towards the Green Dragon inn. He had been here many times, of course, but only stayed for a day or two before moving out in search of more adventure. He stepped inside the green dragon inn. It was familiar to him, and he knew some of the people, and it was very busy. He pushed through the crowd, searching frantically for a table, or a seat at the least. When he realised he wouldn't get a seat, he started pushing through the crowds again, searching back for the door.


He reached the door, and stepped outside. The surroundings were, again, familiar. He passed through here many times on his way to find adventure. He went towards the stables where his horse was waiting. He entered the stable door, and looked round the rows of horses. He recognised his horse, Elkin, immediately, of course. Elkin had been with Mindez for many years now, through many adventures. Mindez stood stroking Elkin, saying he'd go back to the Green dragon when it was less crowded.

[Belethfacwen]

Beleth walked up to the door at the Green Dragon, with a careful step, as if she might trip at any moment. Surveying the wood of the door as if it might come alive and try to harm her, and letting her small, plump hand rest a minute on the handle, she again very carefully pushed it open.

She stepped in, glancing around the inn at all of the people currently present. She tucked a stray lock of mousy brown hair that had fallen in her face, and her expression changed suddenly. From her cautious, mouselike look of shy fear, her face spread into a wide, glad smile as she looked around. Her gait also changed to a more confident, bouncier stride, making it all of a sudden look as if she'd completed a long, difficult journey to get here and was finally enjoying familiarity again. In truth, she had done nearly the opposite. A small smile was still lingering on her face as she stepped further in, and slid into a seat.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Aman seemed to be doing an excellent job of supervising the jumble sale that had been set up in the rear courtyard of the Inn. Hobbits were crowding around digging deep in their pockets and coming up with pennies and farthings to pay for the assorted treasures. Once or twice Derufin had to interrupt to keep a fist fight from breaking out. But, all in all, things were going smoothly.

Cami waved a friendly hand over at Neniel. For someone who was not a hobbit, she seemed to have picked up a real feeling for the mathoms and had learned how to handle the prospective buyers rather quickly. She'd been an enormous help in preparing the items for sale and in displaying them neatly on the wide trestle tables.

Despite the protests of many of the Big Folk that they would not be caught dead buying such junk, Cami noticed that many of them inched over to the tables surreptitiously eyeing the treasures. Then, when they thought no one was looking, they paid for their little purchases and stuffed them into pockets and bags before hurrying back inside the Inn. Perhaps, reflected Cami, even the Big Folk had a little piece of hobbit deep inside.

Cami's own interest was drawn to a table where a stack of old books was on display. Many of them were dog earred and had seen better days with the pages coming loose from the binding. A few were in better condition. These almost looked as if no one had ever read them, but merely kept them on a shelf as decorations. Cami did not approve of this.

Amid the stacks of commonplace items there were a few that truly caught her eye. Cami picked up one of the old treasures on the table and opened the cover to glance inside. It looked to be a journal or diary written out in a child's awkward script. The cover of the book read "My Adventures in Buckland" by Rory Brandybuck, son of Gorbadoc and Mirabella. Cami's heart pounded fiercely as she read the faint inscription which the lad had written on the inside of the front cover:

To my father.

I hope you enjoy these tales, I've written them for you as a mathom on my sixteenth birthday. Mommy says I'm following in the footsteps of our ancestor Rory Oldbuck, son of Merimac, who was such a great adventurer and hunter of Orcs.

Your son, Rorimac Brandybuck

Cami clutched the volume to her chest with tears welling up in her eyes. Rorimac Brandybuck, descendent of Merimac Oldbuck and his son Rory. A little inscription that had survived all the way to the Fourth Age, hearkening back to family memories that stretched back over two thousand years.

She really shouldn't be looking at something like this. She expected to return to her home in Greenwood sometime soon. But there was no Gandalf to tell her no, and her curiosity got the better of her. She deposited a few coins in Aman's hat, and slipped the book inside her apron pocket, determined to read it once and then leave it sitting on the small table that stood by her bed after she'd returned to her home.

[Horse-Maiden of the Shire]

"Hmm...a custom dress-maker," mused Aleia. Furrowing her brow in frustration, she racked her memory for someone that made dresses for Big Folk. Suddenly she snapped her fingers. "I know where you could get some clothes! Marian Boffin. It's a bit of a journey to her house, but she makes custom dresses for anyone that comes to her door with silver in their pockets."

Madea listened intently as Aleia told her the directions to Marian's hobbit-hole. When she was finished, she said, "Thank you, Mis - Aleia. Now, before I go to get my clothes, let's share a plate of food and have an ale." Aleia nodded and smiled in approval. Just then, a young girl entered the Dragon, looking for all the world like a mouse that had wandered into an owl's nest. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she smiled, walking with a bounce in her step all the way to her seat.

Aleia nudged Madea, who had also seen the sudden change in the girl, and said, "See? That's what the Inn does to you. Best place in all the land to sit back and have an ale." Aleia leaned back in her seat and nodded knowingly to Madea, who chuckled and called Ruby over to order some food.

After standing outside for slong time Waenchamior walked in to the inn. He noticed a woman sitting by herself. She was looking around the room.


Since he was new to the area he figured he should make some friends. "Hi miss", he said, "have you travled far?"

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Elora]

Vanwe eased her way from the Mathom sale with a hobbit hat filled with coppers. With Aman and Derufin to keep some semblance of order, she decided that she would be entirely more comfortable if the princely sum she presently held was in the keeping of someone less questionable than a runaway. The commonroom was quiter, the crowd milling around the stableyards, and Vanwe made immediately for the kitchens.

"Pardon, Mistress Cook, but I have some proceeds from the sale," Vanwe stated. Cook looked up from the lamb broth she was readying for the evening.

"Well, nice as a hat full of coppers are, Vanwe, I can hardly include them in this. The copper would ruin the taste!"

Vanwe's brow furrowed until she realised that Cook was not serious.

"Oh, I thought it would be better kept in here for Aman when she is finished," she explained. Cook waved with the knife she had been slicing carrots with at a corner that Vanwe promptly set the hat down in. She emptied out her pocket too. That done, Vanwe stepped back out. Her throat was dry after the day fliting about the inn. The cool earthen jug of water that sat at the corner of the bar beckoned. Vanwe made for that, pouring out a cup that sat next to the jug.

The water was a welcome relief in more ways than one. She was thirsty, and it did not cost her money she did not possess. The maiden sat, cup in her long fingered and surprisingly delicate hands. Vanwe took to swirling the water within the cup, careful not to spill any. Water was not something to be wasted, even in the lush north. She gradually let the water still, her reflection peering back at her. She pondered it, and how to sort things out.

The face that gazed back up at her was supposedly uncannily like her mothers, and Vanwe allowed herself to fall into an old habit. She stared at the reflection, wondering what her mother looked at, and where she was, and even that she stared back at her instead of empty water. It was a foolish indulgence, yet it brought a wistful smile to her usually serious Elven face and revealed just how young and old she truly was. Vanwe imagined emerald eyes instead of her own sapphire ones, and forgot all the other tales that cloaked her mother's identity. She ignored the frayed collar of her dress, and saw only her mother, the mother she had wished she had and still secretly hoped she would find instead of the truth that lay somewhere out there.

[Amanaduial the archer]

As the afternoon turned to evening, many of the mathoms had indeed been eagerly swept up, as Cami had predicted, and the crowds had begun to drift away, although many did so with anxious inquiries as to whether the sale would be on tomorrow. Aman, looking around at the piles of remaining mathoms- diminished but still formidable- then at the hats which sat behind her, almost bursting, and had replied yes, definitely.

Entering the Inn, she saw Vanwe, sitting alone, staring into a cup of water. She first supposed that the girl must have fallen asleep, for a peaceful smile was on her face, and the Innkeeper could not see her eyes in the swift glance she shot at her, so she proceeded into the kitchen. Cami looked up from some potatoes she was chopping and, smiling, nodded to the corner behind her. "Vanwe left in her proceeds for the sale." She explained.

Aman picked up the soft hat which Vanwe had deposited, now as full as her own pair of smaller ones. The Innkeeper could not help beaming; the three hats glinted with bronze, and even some silver, coins.

"Well, it seems that all funds that may have been needed for the naming ceremony are covered," She murmured. Turning to Cook, she raised her voice to its normal level. "Cook, do you know how much wine we have in at the moment?"

Vinca raised an eyebrow, then returned her attention to her potatoes. "I do food, not drink, Miss Aman. You still have your key to the winecellar?"

"Yes, Cook." Aman replied, with a smile- when talking to Cook, she had become accustomed to feeling rather like a forgetful schoolchild. Fumbling with the keys on her belt, she walked out of the kitchen, her head filled with thoughts of the food and drinks for the naming ceremony. With the profit from the mathoms, she would no doubt be able to catch one of the men, or hobbits, who was leaving for Bree tonight- there was bound to be one or two at least. Butterbur may be have been forgetful, and a little doddery, but Eru knows that he had some good contacts for fine wine.

As she opened the door behind the bar to go down to the wine cellar, where the 'fancier stuff', as Cook called it, was kept, she looked up again to see Vanwe still sitting there. Staring longingly into her cup. On her face was an expression of utmost yearning. Puzzled, Aman stopped, peering at Vanwe.

"Vanwe?"

The Innkeeper's voice seemed to shake Vanwe from her reverie, and she jogged forward visibly. Looking up almost guiltily, she seemed startled to see Aman. Puzzled, Aman continued.

"Are you quite alright, Vanwe?"

[Envinyatar]

Derufin had wisely avoided the mathom sale. The headache which had so plagued him at the beginning of the day still lingered, an incipient threat crouching at his temples. Better to avoid the noisy, jostling crowds of mathom-maddened Hobbits, and seek the quiet of the stable.

He was happy, of course, to have set up the sawhorse tables for Miz Cami and for Mistress Aman. It was after all to benefit the party the Inn would throw when Mistress Piosenniel and her wee ones arrived. And he was happy, too, to learn that a good deal of coins had been taken in. But happiest of all was he as he sat in the cool shadows of the stable with Falmar, his critic and companion, to look over his shoulder.

‘Now what do you think of this one?’ he asked, holding the small willow wood figure of a neeker-breeker up for inspection. Motes of dust danced in the shaft of light he held it in, giving it a fey look. Falmar shook her head as if to approve, and he set it down on the table beside him, next to the yellow basswood carving of a small fierce dragon.

‘Hmmm . . . what shall I do next?’ Falmar’s head dipped down, and she nosed the block of ebon-wood. ‘You’re right, my friend,’ answered Derufin. ‘We do need some shadow creatures, don’t we?’ He picked up the block of dark wood, and sawed it into small discrete cubes. Taking up one, he blew the wood dust from its surface, and turned it round in his fingers.

‘An Orc, I think. With some orcish blade in hand. Do you agree?’

Falmar tapped her front hoof soundly on the ground, and snorted her approval. Derufin picked up his small carving knife and began to ease the gruesome figure from the wood.

Enkriswen opened the door to the Green Dragon, slightly in awe of this little place. She looked around at the scene inside, not understanding anything. Quietly, she sat down in a booth in the back, removing the hood of her black cloak.

Enkriswen was one for annonimity, although her pointy ears covered by surprisingly black-colored hair, did not exactly go with her appearance. She watched people talk, quietly, but seeing no one she knew there, turned her more-orange-than-brown gaze back to the table.

On a random inspiration, she gets up, goes to the bar for some ale, then sits back down again. Maybe after she'd had a drink she'd feel more comfortable and conversation-friendly. Or not, but, you'd never know until you tried... she took a sip. Ah! it then occured to Enkriswen that she had not drunk anything other than water for a very long time...

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel collapsed at the bar after the sale ended, overwhelmed by the sheer number of hobbits who'd come. She rubbed her temples and noticed an elvenmaid with black hair and bright eyes glancing at her. Niniel twined her hair around her fingers self-conciously. Soronume was one thing, but a strange elf was quite another. For a moment, she considered speaking to the lady, but only for a moment.

Instead, she turned to Aman. "Are--are all the hob--hobbits so--loud?" she asked.

Aman chuckled and nodded, but before she could make more of an answer, a loud crash came from the direction of the fireplace. Aman went to investigate, leaving Niniel alone. Again.

For something to do, she rose and began to wander the Inn. She caught es of gossip, of stories, and of shared memories. Nowhere did she seem to belong, which wasn't unusual. For a time, she gazed at Soronume, but she moved on quickly, observing the other Inn patrons. It was a comfortable, familiar thing to do in an unfamiliar place.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]

[Theoric Windcaller]

Theoric turned into the bar. The fire roared in the back. He had left for Rivendell so suddenly and hadn't been back for a while. He missed the ale here.

He stumbled wearily towards the bar, his mouth watering as he smelt the soup they had on the fire in the back. He then stopped, remembering the Green Dragon's no-weapons policy. He unstrapped his axe and gently laid it, hilt up against the wall near the door.

As he came to the bar he called to Aman, the innkeeperhe ordered a small pint of ale. He pulled a chair out and porrped himself comfortably in it. His smile gleamed as he realized how happy this in was.

Wait! he thought, maybe that Elf is here. What was her name? Oh yes! Lèspheria.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Enkriswen's gaze alighted and rested, momentarily, on Niniel. She took another sip of her ale. sip of ale? she thought, no one sips ale, they...swig it... It was then that Enkriswen truely realised how entirely out of sync she was with the world of toughened ale-drinkers.

Theoric? What? When did he come here? She had met him, briefly, in Rivendell. Not that she felt much like talking to him, polite though he had been... or had that been Theoric? Or maybe it was another one... Ah! Who knows, it had all been so long ago...

Okay, a swig of ale... right... she lifted the big cup to her lips and swigged. The liquid burned it's way halfway down her throat...then it reversed it's course and headed back up into the cup.
What a highly unpleasent experience. Now she needed a different type of alchohol, that was for sure.

She headed over to the barkeeper and asked for a wine. If they had any, which she really hoped they did...

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Rachel McSchnozz ]

[Eladain Moruviel]

Just then an elf,wearing travling clothes and a hooded cloak walked into the room.It was apparent he had been travling for some time,by the state of his tall mud soaked boots and cloak,that might have been green at one time,but was now more of a brownish color.

Upon intering the inn he removed his cloak revealing a long,wicked looking hunting knife strapped at his side.He also had a short ash bow and a quiver of arrows wich he also removed and placed carefully next to his cloak

He was tall,even for an elf,strongly muscled,but of light frame as most elves are.He had the blond hair and bluegray eyes characteristic of the wood elves.If anybody had takin the time to look closely at him they would have noticed he had a slight limp,and also the large scar on his left cheek.

He walked over to the corner out of the firelight and sat down at an empty table.He wasn't talkative,even around friends,and even less so in a strange place, so he prefered to sit alone.But it was still nice to be next to the warm fire,and around people,even though he wouldn't talk to them it was still nice not to be alone after four months of roaming the wilderness.

When the serving girl came over he ordered some ale and sat back to relax and watch the other patrons.'Perhaps if he kept his ears open he would hear some information that would help him with his quest' he thought to himself.'Oh yes,and once he found that for which he was searching,he could finally rest' he told himself.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Eladain Moruviel ]

With the wine, Enkriswen wound her way back to her booth, finding one by it newly occupied. She didn't like the look of this lady-hobbit sitting there. Looking at a new-come, tall elf, she tripped over the nearby hobbit's chair.

"Hey, watch your step there!" the she-hobbit called.

"Sorry about that," Enkriswen apologised, noticing a few more stares attracted her way.
She picked herself and unspilled wine off the floor and headed back over to her now-unoccupied booth.

Momentarily, she contemplated swigging the wine. Nope, too risky... she grinned faintly.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Belethfacwen]

Beleth turned from staring about the room to the person who had just sat himself at her table, which was previously occupied only by her. She saw him with a start, but within a split second regained her composure and smiled brightly.

"Hello! How are you? Me, traveled far? Well... my answer would have to be no.. I live within a few minute's walk, but I don't come here that often, you see. I'm not really sure why!" She laughed quietly.

"What about you?"

[Eladain Moruviel]

The elf looked up from his musing to see what had made all that noise,and what he saw was a girl sprawled out on the floor.He spotted the pointy ears and strong elven features right away 'she must be an elf' he thought 'no,something's different about her,perhaps a half elf? either way perhaps i should go talk to her' he told himself.

He wasn't very good at this kind of thing,and never had been,but he summoned up all his courage,put on his friendlyist smile (which wasn't very friendly) and walked up to where the girl had sat down."That was a nasty fall you took,are you alright?" he said when he reached the table."But where are my manners,I'm Eladain"

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Eladain Moruviel ]

See your PM's - Private Messages, please.

SAVED for re-worked post.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

The door creaked as the Dúnedain, Dûrvagor Cormyr, walked into the Green Dragon. His sword clanked against the door frame which caught the innkeeper's attention.

“Hold it buddy, no weapons in here, and if you don't like it, than there's another pub in Bree,” the innkeeper instructed with a chuckle as she placed her mug on the shelf.

Removing his hood, he replies, “Alright, but I’ll warn you now that if they’re gone when I come to claim them…”

“It’s okay, this is the Shire you know.”

Dûrvagor continued on, stripped of all weapons, to any empty table previously occupied by an elf who’s weapons were placed next to his, only guessing by the Lothlorien markings on his bow. He glanced around the inn and realized there were more men and elves than hobbits.

After claiming his table, he headed up to the bar and ordered a pint of ale to sooth his weary body. Not being very social, he passes a group of other travelers in a very thick conversation, and continues to his table.

Drinking his pint, slowly calming down, he notices that a blonde elf is sitting in the table next to him. But, he decides not to talk to him, and continues to drink his ale.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Dûrvagor Cormyr ]

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Dûrvagor Cormyr ]

[Eladain Moruviel]

Apparently the Elf wasn't feeling very talkative at the moment and merely grunted a quick "hello" to Eladain when he introduced himself. So he headed back to his table only to find a Dunedain seated there.Upon closer inspection he realised this was his old friend Durvagor.

"AH! Durvagor!" Eladain cried "It's so good to see you old friend! It's been too long since our last meeting" The two friends warmly clasped hands and if you had been looking you would see them embrace like brothers.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Eladain Moruviel ]

[piosenniel]

Please note I have made some adjustments to posts on this page.

Please take time to review The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire. You will find all the rules for posting in the Shire there.

A very basic rule is:

Every post must be at least 2 paragraphs in length, minimum. AND, each paragraph must contain at least 2 SENTENCES.

You can have a FEW lines of 1 sentence dialog, but even then it is preferred that your talk be at least 2 sentences long, and that you place your dialog in the midst of some descriptive writing.

Please try to follow this guide line. I will be returning posts for people to edit who do not do this.

Remember – the Inn is for practicing descriptive writing, that is what we expect of people when they play in games here in the Shire and even more so in Rohan and Gondor. This is your chance to let us see what your character looks like, how he/she thinks, acts, reacts to what's around him, etc.

~~ Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Ealasaid]

"Have an ale, my friend!"

Kaldir looked up to discover that he had been joined at his table by the Ranger who had carried the injured southern lady up the stairs some minutes earlier. He smiled benignly with the good half of his scarred face and gestured to an empty chair. "Only if you will have a seat, my friend," he answered.

Silvanis nodded his acceptance and sat down, placing himself deliberately between Kaldir and the closed upstairs door of Benia Nightshade. Kaldir noticed this, but failed to show any reaction other than to set aside his empty tankard and take the full one offered by his new companion. Taking a sip of ale, Kaldir studied Silvanis' face. There was something familiar about the man, as though Kaldir might have been acquainted with him at one time, many years ago. In another lifetime, perhaps, he thought to himself. He still remembered things and events from before but not clearly. It was as though he was seeing them through the halflight of dusk, rather than the full light of day. Faces, especially, were difficult for him to remember.

"I am called Kaldir," he said by way of introduction, his pale blue eyes watching Silvanis closely for even a flicker of recognition. "And I thank you sincerely for your hospitality," he added raising his mug. "The Green Dragon is renowned for the quality of its ale."

"Oops," she thought to herself. Maybe it was time to turn from Enkriswen the Mean and Nasty towards Other Elves to Enkriswen the Friendly.

She had been about to get up to go and apologize to Eladain for her previous rudeness, but she saw he was otherwisely occupied for attention. Alright, she thought, getting up, just a quick hello...

As she walked to where he was sitting, the lady hobbit she had previously tripped over deliberatly stuck out her hairy foot to make Enkriswen fall. And fall she did, with a nasty, head banged, ungraceful, un-elvish, un-ladylike, and un-every other good thing she could have been. Enkriswen was rendered unconcious.

"Not so graceful for a lady elf, eh?" the rude hobbit lass sniggered to her friends. Unfortunately, there was no response.