The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[piosenniel]

~*~ GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS ~*~

The Green Dragon Inn is located in Bywater, just off the Great East-West Road.

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

King Elessar is on the throne of the Reunited Kingdom of Arnor and Gondor.

Mirkwood has been reclaimed by the Elves and is now called Eryn Lasgalen.

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

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

The Innkeeper, in the Green Dragon Inn of this forum, is: Aman – a young woman from Rohan.

Before her, the Innkeeper was Piosenniel, and before her it was Dwarin, the Dwarf.

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Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

Vinca Bunce, widowed, Inn Cook (character played by Piosenniel)

Derufin, General handyman/jack-of-all-trades round the Inn; Man from southwestern Gondor (played by Envinyatar)

Zimzi (Zimziran), wife to Derufin; a skilled potter from Lindon(played by Pio)

Meriadoc - Stablemaster

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Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

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Please Note:

No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

With the exception of the Innkeeper and the Moderators, no OOC (Out Of Character) comments are allowed in the Inn.

Only the Innkeeper, Amanaduial, or the Moderators move the timeline for the Inn forward.

Visitors to the Inn will need to read the posts that come before theirs to get an idea of what time it is in the Shire, what the weather is like, and what is happening.

No violence is allowed in the Inn or on Inn grounds.

Please be familiar with the rules for the Inn and Games in The Red Book of Westmarch, the first topic in the Shire.

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About Elves in Shire RPG's:

Please use this description from Tolkien when crafting an Elf:

Return of the King – Appendix F: Tolkien’s description for the Quendi (The Speakers) – the name given to the Elves by themselves after they first awoke in Middle-earth.

“They were a race high and beautiful, the older Children of the world, and among them the Eldar were as Kings, who now are gone: the People of the Great Journey, the People of the Stars. They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod; and their voices had more melodies than any mortal voice that is now heard . . .”

Please use this as a guideline for describing your Elven character’s appearance.

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EVERYONE

Please be familiar with The Red Book of Westmarch which gives the rules for posting in the Shire RPG's and in The Green Dragon Inn.

Thanks!

Piosenniel, Shire Moderator

[piosenniel]

TIME HAS CHANGED -- SEE NOTE BELOW IN BOLD

It is now late night in the Shire. The stars are peering out from veils of wispy clouds. The breeze has picked up and is chilly.

It is a New Moon in late Spring.

Supper is done. Though those stragglers who wander in can still get drinks and some bread and cheese.

There are a small number of customers still in the Common Room -- drinking ale, wine, cider, tea; smoking their pipes, and enjoying the last of the music. As they finish their pipes they are say goodnight and heading for home or for their rooms.

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IT IS NOW EARLY MORNING IN THE INN.

Early risers are up and in the Common Room. The first of the breakfasts is being cooked and served. Various travelers have stopped at the Inn for a meal before going about their day's business.

~*~ Pio

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger awaits Alcarillo's order . . .

Ginger excused herself from the table where Larien and Master Hearpwine sat. Another had come to join their company and she could see from Buttercup’s tired face that help was needed with the last of the serving and cleaning up.

She rushed into the kitchen and put on her apron, just in time to see Cook sending four children out the back door with what looked like a picnic basket. Ginger picked up a small tray from the counter, intending to help bring in the dirtied mugs and plates from the common room.

Buttercup nodded gratefully at her as she went through the door. Ginger paused for a moment deciding where she might begin. She picked up a clean wet rag from the bar counter, intending to clean the tables as she went. She was just starting off toward some empty places in the far corner of the room, when one of the Fair Folk glanced her way.

‘Ah! He’ll be wanting something,’ she said to herself and laid her tray and rag on an empty table. Though the room was warm, the tall fair Elf still wore his grey cloak. The hood was thrown back and his dark golden hair glinted in the lamplight. Beneath the cloak, as he shifted she could see the gleam of metal.

He had put the red book he was looking through down on the table. As she neared him she put on her best smile and nodded as she stopped before him. ‘I’m Ginger, sir,’ she said. ‘One of the servers here at The Dragon. Would you like something to drink? And if you’re hungry I think I can still bring you a basket of bread and a plate of good Shire cheese. And Cook’s good mustard to go with it.’

She waited as he gave thought to her offer.

[piosenniel]

Cook sends Hanson, Woody, Tim, and Wren off with a basket of food . . .

Cook looked kindly at Tim and his sister, Wren. ‘Since it’s so late, I’m thinking you two will be wanting to spend the night here.’ She pursed her lips for a moment, thinking. ‘I don’t think we have any rooms left open. But, there’s nice clean hay up in the stable loft, and plenty of clean quilts in the storeroom that we use on cold nights for the horses. Why don’t you and your sister spend the night there?’

She was wrapping a number of buttered rolls in a clean napkin as she spoke and putting them into a small basket with a lid she’d got down from a shelf. A wedge of cheese came next with a small wooden plank to cut it on, and a sharp knife. ‘Now Tim, or Woody, you two take charge of using the knife. Don’t let the younger ones cut themselves with it,’ she said firmly. Another clean napkin filled with fat currant and nut cookies was soon done up, and a small flask of cider with four tin cups was put into the basket, too.

‘Hanson and Woody, don’t you take too long out there with the kittens. The music sounds like it’s winding down and your Uncle Gil will be wanting to take you home.’ She handed the heavy basket to Tim. ‘There’s a pump between the kitchen door and the stable. You can use it if you want to wash up. Be careful on the ladder to the loft. It’s sturdy enough though . . . just tall.’

Cook wiped her hands on her apron and opened the door for the quartet. ‘Say, if you’re up early tomorrow morning, Master Woodlock, perhaps you and your sister can gather the eggs in the henhouse for me. Use this basket, just put a little hay in it to cushion the eggs. I’ll pay you for it with a big breakfast, if you will.’ She waved as they passed through the circlet of light from the kitchen door.

‘Poor wee ones!’ she muttered to herself as she straightened up the kitchen a bit. ‘Wonder what they’re doing out by themselves?’

[Folwren]

Tim and Wren stared up with wonder as Cook began packing food into the basket. They were speechless as she offered them a place to sleep and gave them food...more food than they had seen in a fortnight. She gently warned Tim and Woody not to let Wren and Hanson cut themselves and Tim didn't even have enough wits about him to say 'Yes, ma'am.'

Her hands moved so quickly and her talk went on so easily and kindly that before they knew it, without even thanking her, she had bundled them off to the barn. Woody had the full basket of vituals on his arm, and Hanson was running on ahead to show the way to his kittens.

Wren pulled at Tim's sleeve and he bent down to hear her whisper to him. "Can we stay the night?"

"Oh, of course! Would I give up an offer like that?"

"Can we gather the eggs tomorrow?"

"Of course! I wouldn't...Yes, we're staying, at least past breakfast." He smiled and put an arm around her shoulders. "After that...I'm not sure what we'll do. But I'll figure it out. Come on, then. Let's catch up with Hanson."

[Alcarillo]

The server had noticed Alcarillo, and dropping her cleaning rag on an unoccupied table approached. Alcarillo hoped that he had not interrupted her task of cleaning the tables. She suggested some bread and Shire cheese to him. Alcarillo paused for a moment to consider the choices the smiling server had suggested. Ginger, as the server had introduced herself, had specifically named Shire cheese. Alcarillo was never very fond of cheese, but while abroad he should take every opportunity he had to taste the foods of other peoples, even foods he normally disliked at home.

" I am Alcarillo Nession, from Harlindon." he introduced himself, "As for my drink, I was hoping that you might have some wine in stock. I prefer white wine, but at the moment any sort of wine will quench my thirst. I am rather hungry, so I will try some of that cheese you speak of, with Cook's mustard. Bread, too, please." He paused again to reconsider his order, "That's all, thank you." He drew his cloak about himself a bit tighter, not for warmth, but to conceal a bit of his armor. At least I did not wear my helm, he thought. He did not like to attract too much attention.

[Arry]

‘She’s always like that,’ said Woody as they hurried after Hanson. ‘Cook, I mean. Sometimes she reminds me of my Gammer. Kind of tough acting on the outside and soft like woolly fluff on the inside. And always watching out for us . . . well not just ‘us’ but anybody she takes a shine to. And she likes to see everybody well fed . . . but then that’s how us Hobbits tend to be. And especially Cook.’

Hanson was waving wildly at the three other children from the stable door. He dashed inside, disappearing from view.

Woody took hold of one side of the basket’s handle, giving Tim a hand with the unwieldy thing. ‘Maybe you two can stick around for bit. I’ll bet Cook’d trade you some chores for meals and such. That is, if you want to . . .’

[Seth Cotton]

Seth nodded, anxious to get to a seat somewhere, he quickly took the pen and wrote his name on the line. Aman looked a little baffled by his quick movement, but she did no reply to this. Seth felt even more embarrased. I must appear really stupid, he thought and looked down for a moment.

'Seth Cotton it is' he said after signing in the book. She seemed really nice to him, friendly and even appearing slightly amused by his behaviour. Even though he thought he was just making a fool out of himself.

He gazed back over his shoulder, trying to see if there was any table available. 'Alright. Thank you Mr. Cotton' Aman said and Seth that was still looking over his shoulder swiftly turned back to her, chuckling a little, fiddleing with his hazel brown curly hair.

'Ah, yes, I am so sorry' he said, feeling pretty stupid 'I've never been in these areas before, and I am not really used to the environment here yet. . .' He stood silent for a moment but then continued. 'So many people even though it's in such a late hour!'

He tilted his head and nodded over at the Common Room.

[Primrose Bolger]

A bottle of white wine is found

There were no bottles of white wine tucked into the holders behind the bar. Red there was, aplenty. Most of it Old Winyards; though there was a sweet red wine, quite tasty, from Dorwinion.

Ginger made her way into the kitchen and fixed up a small basket of crusty bread, a small platter with a wedge of sharp Shire cheese, and a few slices of ham she’d found in the cooler. A small crock of sweet cream butter and one of aromatic mustard rounded out the offering as she placed them all on a carrying tray along with a sharp knife for the cheese and a butter knife for the spreads..

After conferring with Cook, she tromped down stairs with a little lantern to the cool part of the cellar and found the dusty bottles Cook had mentioned. She plucked the cobwebs from the label of one of the bottles and rubbed it clean with her apron. There was a pretty picture of two intertwined trees, one silver, one gold. And some writing she couldn’t make out, though Cook had told her the name of the wine was Great Jewel and had come from Ithilien. ‘Well this ought to do,’ she thought to herself. The light from the lantern glinted through the clear glass of the bottle, sparkling prettily through the wine within.

Once upstairs she cleaned the bottle of its grime as best she could and placed it on the serving tray along with a pretty blue pottery goblet. She took the corkscrew along with her, hoping the Elf, Alcarillo Nession, would know how to use it, as she did not.

‘There you go, Master Nession,’ she said, putting the tray on his table. She arranged the food and drink before him and laid the knives on the folded napkin she’d brought. ‘Now will there be anything else I can get for you?’

[Folwren]

“Maybe you two can stick around for a bit,” Woody said, “I’ll bet Cook’d trade you some chores for meals and such. That is, if you want to...”

“She offered to let us at least stay for breakfast,” Tim replied. “Tomorrow’s breakfast. I don’t think...well, we can’t stay here for ever. Wren and I...” but then he stopped and he looked ahead and shut his mouth. No reason to go shoveling his troubles on some Hobbit boy who was friendly.

Wren didn’t think of it like that. “Mama and Papa died last month,” she said, picking up where Tim had effectually left off. “We’ve been pretty much out walking ever since.”

“Don’t, Wren,” Tim said, glancing quickly at her. She looked up inquisitively at him and he shook his head.

They had reached the barn and Tim reached forward to swing the door open more so that they could fit through with the food. Woody took the lead to take them to wherever Hanson had gone to the kittens. Tim bent a little ways towards his sister and whispered quietly in her ear.

“We don’t need to go about making it a public fact that we’re orphans,” he said. “People around here probably don’t care to hear about all our problems. We’ll stay as long as we’re welcome and as long we’re no burden and are actually working for our keep, but I can’t promise that we’ll stick around any longer than that. I’ve got to find work that can keep me and you alive.”

“But, Tim, she said that we could stay-”

“For tomorrow morning,” he said quickly. They were drawing close to the two hobbits again. “Don’t worry about it.”

[Arry]

Woody was disquieted at what Wren had said. Where were their aunts and uncles, he wondered; their cousins or second cousins who would take them in? If Ma and Da were to die, he thought, there were any number of kin who would take Woody and Hanson and their brothers and sisters under their wing.

Tramping about alone! Woody couldn’t fathom doing that. He looked at Hanson, bent over the kittens a smile on his little face. ‘How scared I would feel,’ thought Woody, ‘if Hanson had only me to rely on.’ He glanced toward Tim wondering if the other boy ever felt that way. Woody’s brow puckered as he thought more about Tim and Wren. ‘I’ll talk to Uncle Gil about it,’ he said to himself. ‘He’ll know what to do.’ His problem resolved for the moment he made his way to Hanson and the kittens.

By the gracious leave of the patient mama cat, the four were soon holding the drowsy, milk-filled kittens and chatting. The basket was opened and food and drink shared about.

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An hour later or so, Hanson’s ears pricked up as a familiar voice called out both his and Woody’s names. ‘It’s Uncle Gil,’ he said by way of explanation to Wren and her brother. ‘I think it’s time for us to be heading home . . .’

[piosenniel]

Please note:

Tomorrow, real-time, I'll be moving time ahead for the Inn to early morning.

Please wrap up any night time interactions your characters have going.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Alcarillo]

"No, thank you, this is plenty; a meal fit for a king," Alcarillo told Ginger. She had brought his dinner, and asked if he might want anything else.

Alcarillo immediately took a look at the bottle of wine, turning it slowly in his hands. It was white wine, with an image of the Two Trees on its label. Its name was in the Tengwar, and Alcarillo noted that it must be Elvish wine. Alcarillo uncorked it with the corkscrew and poured about a glassful it into an elegant blue goblet. It tasted sweet, cool, and refreshing, and reminded Alcarillo of Harlindon. The bread was a bit too crusty, maybe a little stale, but the butter helped its taste and texture. The cheese and the mustard were delicious together. Alcarillo was surprised by being served ham, and he decided that the halflings must be a rather generous people.

While dining, Alcarillo had decided upon his travel plans: he would rest here for the night and travel to Rivendell in the morning. He knew that he had kin there, family who had escaped from the destruction of Ost-in-Edhil. He had only met his family there once before, thousands of years ago at the end of the Second Age, when he joined the Last Alliance and visited Rivendell on the way to Dagorlad. He remembered finding his cousin again in the midst of battle, and fighting orcs together.

Alcarillo finished his dinner and reminiscing with a satisfied sigh. He was the fullest he had ever been in many, many years. He needed a room for the night. He tucked his red book into his cloak and abandoned his finished dinner and half-empty bottle of wine on the table. Alcarillo wandered out of the warm common room and into the hallway in search of the innkeeper. He hoped that he or she accepted Elvish coins, for those were all he had. He found the counter of the innkeeper near the inn's entrance, and leaned against the wall to patiently wait for another weary traveler to finish booking his room.

[Folwren]

They climbed the ladder to the loft, tall, as Cook had said, but sturdy, where Hanson was already waiting with one of the kittens in his hands and Wren hurried forward with sudden excitement. She dropped to her knees beside Hanson and for a minute just looked with positive ecstasy at the tiny bundles of fur curled beside their mother. A smile flickered around her face and her eyes shone as she reached out and gently took up one of the kittens. Tim came more slowly up behind and with a silent sigh sat down beside her. For a few minutes, he had forgotten his trouble. Cook’s offer had almost put them completely out of mind. But Wren’s questions had more often than once reminded him that in the future days something would have to be done.

‘Forget them for now. She’s happy and you can be, too. You have dinner right in front of you and a breakfast has been offered.’ He didn’t have to convince himself any further. He was a child, and though he was growing up faster than most children did, he still had the ability to forget his problems for a short time when things were agreeable. He pulled the basket Woody had put down towards himself and opened it, took out the knife, and began to cut the cheese.

He handed the others starters and then took a bit of bread and cheese in either hand and ate himself. He watched his sister share her attention between the food and the kitten. When he had satisfied himself for the time being, he turned his attention to the kittens Wren showed him and finally picked one up for himself.

About an hour passed of merry, childish talk, eating, and holding and petting the kittens and cat before someone called for Hanson and Woody from the inn. Hanson looked up and put the kitten he had in his hand back down.

“It’s Uncle Gil,” he said, looking at Tim and Wren. “I think it’s time for us to be heading home.” The other three stood up and after rather familiar goodbyes, the two hobbits left the barn and headed in.

“Come over this way from the cats, Wren,” Tim said, drawing his sister away softly. “We don’t want to hurt them while we’re sleeping.”

They curled down in the hay a few feet from the cat’s nest and many feet from the edge of the loft. Wren dropped off to sleep almost at once and Tim lay looking fondly at her in the dim light. He finally shut his eyes and put a protective arm over her and he quickly dropped into a deep and dreamless sleep.

[piosenniel]

NOTICE OF TIME CHANGE IN THE INN

It is now early morning in the Inn.

Early risers are up and in the Common Room. The first of the breakfasts is being cooked and served. Various travelers have stopped at the Inn for a meal before going about their day's business.

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Folwren]

A cock crowed somewhere in the yard. Tim rolled over onto his back in the hay and instantly put an arm up to block the sudden ray of sunlight coming through a crack in the barn wall that fell on his face. He screwed up his face at the waking and then sat up and looked around him.

Wren still slept by his side, contentedly bedded in the hay. It had been a good night for both of them and Tim felt ready to get up. He left his sister still sleeping and crawled to where he had left the egg basket given him by Cook. He placed a few handfuls of hay into the bottom of it and hooked it over his arm before going to the ladder and quickly descending.

Tim left the barn by the door he had come by the evening before and looked around for the hen house. He spotted it at the corner of the barn - a small structure built right up to its side. The chickens were already out and scratching about in the dirt. A tall, handsome rooster stood in the middle of the yard preparing himself for another crow. His neck arched and the feathers stood out as he greeted the rising sun. Tim smiled at him and then went on to the hen house.

There were two nests, and one was occupied by a stingy hen who would have kept Tim away if she could. But he wasn’t afraid of the bird and gathered all of the eggs in the nest. She growled angrily at him as he left the hen house and he laughed in return.

He went towards the kitchen door and was pleased to see it already open to allow the cool morning air to flow in freely. He walked in a little hesitantly and placed the basket on the counter.

“Here are the eggs, ma’am,” he said to Cook, who turned towards him when she heard him enter. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger speaks to Tim

Before Cook could respond to the boy who’d walked in, Ginger spoke up. Clouds of flour were swirling up from the bowl in which she was stirring the dry ingredients for the spice cakes to be served at supper. Her brows were hoary from the finely sifted flour and her copper curls were taking on a premature tint of white.

‘Oh, goodness! You’re just in time!’ she said to Tim. With a dusted hand she motioned for him to bring over the basket of eggs. ‘Can you just get that blue bowl over there, the one on the counter? And crack nine eggs into it, if you would. Mind you, no shells, please. I’ve got three sheet cakes to make and the wet ingredients to beat together next.’

Ginger looked over to where Cook was frying up potatoes and onions in two large skillets, and turning the bacon on the long griddle. ‘You’ve sent Buttercup to the butcher’s, and Ruby is busy with serving breakfast. I’ll be tied up for a good bit with the cakes. Do you think this lad could be gotten to work the vegetable garden today?’ She grinned at Tim, a hopeful look on her face.

‘Can’t go calling you lad all day, can I?’ she said with a sneeze. Ginger wiped the back of her arm beneath her nose, managing to smear a trail of white across her cheek. ‘My name’s Ginger. I’m one of the girls from nearby. What do you call yourself, Master Egg-bringer?’

[Alcarillo]

Alcarillo came down the stairs, still in his dark grey cloak. It was morning and he had woken up minutes ago. He could smell breakfast being made in the kitchen and he thought of how hungry he was. His dinner last night now seemed as though it had happened many years ago.

He stepped outside for a moment in the innyard to take in the morning air. It was a cool and refreshing day, and all about him the land seemed to be waking from a deep slumber. Birds sang far off, and Alcarillo considered visiting the horse he had borrowed from a friend in Harlond, Gaerroch, but he decided to get breakfast now. He stretched his limbs for a moment and reentered the inn, heading towards the common room.

Alcarillo took a seat at an empty table and began to read his little red book again. He flipped through the pages half-amusedly and looked up every so often to look for the server. There were other guests in the common room, too; most of them were eating breakfast. From the looks of it, it appeared that eggs were a popular meal in the Shire. Alcarillo continued flipping through the pages of his book and keeping an eye out for the server simultaneously.

[Undómë]

She turned off the packed dirt road, taking the path that led up to the Inn’s door. Following close behind her was her older brother, Tindomion. He was astride his silver dapple, and leading her small grey palfrey along by the reins.

To either side of the track were grasses and low growing clover, their crimson heads bright in the early morning light. Patches of tiny white daisies mingled in among the plantings of cultivated flowers some one had scattered along the walk.

Teluyaviel stepped off the dirt path and onto the carpet of clover and grass. She paused for a moment a smile creasing the corners of her lips and slipped off her shoes. With a sigh, she wriggled her toes in the soft leaves and blossoms. Holding her shoes in one hand, she picked up the skirt of her dress with the other and made her way to the porch steps.

The light from the lanterns within showed that already a number of people had gathered in the front room and were busy breaking their fast. She hurried up the steps, pausing before the great wooden door. Her rust-brown skirt was a bit crumpled where she had held it in her hand and she smoothed it down, shaking the dirt from its hem. She combed the tangles of her long dark hair with a quick, practiced motion of her fingers, pinning it back with a tarnished silver clasp retrieved from the small leather pouch that hung at her belt. Her feet she slid back into her shoes, stamping them on the mat before the door to knock the dust from them.

‘Put this on, Telu!’ Her brother had already handed the horses to a sleepy-eyed stable boy and come softly up behind her. He slipped her grey cloak over her shoulders as he ushered her into the Inn.

The two stood blinking in the entry way, their eyes adjusting to the lower level of light. ‘There’s a table,’ her brother said, gesturing to one near the window. With a laugh, she shook her head, pointing to one nearer the fire. ‘Come, Tindo,’ she said taking his arm. ‘No need to sit at an out of the way table. Let’s sit with the others near the hearth.’

[Folwren]

Tim started slightly when Ginger addressed him, noticing her for the first time. She smiled over her shoulder at him whilst she bid him bring the eggs across and begin cracking them. He came immediately with the basket.

“I’m Tim Woodlock,” he said when she asked his name. “It’s very nice to meet you. Shouldn’t I wash my hands before I help?”

She agreed in her merry fashion and nodded with her head where the pump was with a bucket of water beneath it. He washed his hands quickly and dried them on a towel hung nearby and then returned to his place beside Ginger and began to crack the nine eggs.

When he had finished, he stepped back and took the basket out of her way again.

“I need to go out and get my sister up,” he said, coming back and leaning against the counter as he spoke. “We’ll be back in a moment and then we’ll both be able to help.” He left the kitchen and ran out to the barn, hurried up the ladder, and called her name as his head came over the top. She sat up immediately, having been lying awake there and smiled at him.

“Good morning, Tim!” she said.

“Good morning and come along!” Tim replied, smiling in return. “I’ve got the eggs and we’re going to help in the kitchen.” He paused and studied her while she got up and walked towards him. “Well, we’ll stop in the yard first and let you clean yourself up a bit at the pump.”

They did just this and by the time they arrived again in the kitchen after less than five minutes, both Wren and Tim were looking fresh and clean. The girl’s hair, unable to be combed, was wetted and pushed as nicely best as can be expected when her only way of knowing how she looks is through what her brother thinks. They went into the kitchen and Tim again offered their assistance.

[piosenniel]

Ruby takes Alcarillo’s order and greets the two new Elves who’ve come into the Inn

Ruby moved through the hungry crowd with a practiced step. Tray balanced on her shoulder, her bare feet avoiding packs, and walking sticks, boots and other bare feet that lay in her way.

She’d just settled the town butcher and his lad in at a table and plopped two large platters filled with crispy fried taters, bacon, scrambled eggs, and a basket of fresh baked bread down on the table before them. She poured them each a mug of steaming hot tea and told them to take their time . . . Cook would be busy with cooking breakfast for a while, and then she would see them.

An Elf in a dark grey cloak sat thumbing through a little red book at a table across the room. Every so often he looked up and glanced about the room. Seeing he had no food or drink before him, she made her way to his table. On her way, she passed two other of the Fair Folk on their way to a table near the fire it seemed.

‘Just signal me with your hand when you get settled,’ she told the woman. ‘I’ll come take your order for breakfast.’ The woman Elf nodded at her, her lovely face made even more so by a quick smile of thanks.

Ruby stopped at the book-reading Elf’s table and introduced herself. ‘Ruby Brown at your service, sir,’ she said leaning her serving tray against her leg. ‘Would you care for something to break your fast? We have our regular fare – eggs, taters, bacon, and bread. A hearty Shire breakfast. And we also have fruits or a light oat gruel with honey for those whose appetites are not as big as us Hobbits. Not saying of course you Fair Folk can’t pack the food away as well as we can. But sometimes I’ve noted you like something less heavy.’

Good grief, Ruby Brown! she admonished herself. Shut your mouth before you manage to insult his Elven tastes in eating before he’s even ordered.

[Alcarillo]

Alcarillo put away his book to focus his attention upon Ruby the server, who stood awaiting his order. Alcarillo considered for a moment what to have. Ruby's comment comparing the stomachs of Hobbits and Elves had caught him off guard, but Alcarillo remembered her suggestions for breakfast. He thought that eggs and bacon sounded very appetizing, but maybe he should try some fruit instead. He soon made up his mind and ordered.

"It is true that we Eldar, Fair Folk as you call us, prefer lighter food sometimes," Alcarillo said, smiling at her knowledge of Elven eating habits, "But at the moment I think I'll have a hearty Shire breakfast, as this is my first time traveling through this land. I would like some of those eggs you mentioned, and bacon and bread, please. Just eggs, bacon, and bread. And I'll have some tea if you serve it here." He remembered to introduce himself, "By the way, my name is Alcarillo Nession. I'm from Harlindon." He extended his hand to her.

[Primrose Bolger]

‘Breakfast first, don’t you think Cook?’ asked Ginger. She’d set the big bowl of batter aside for a moment and was wiping her newly washed hands on a dishtowel near the sink. ‘I’ll join you two, if you don’t mind. All I had was a slice of toast with jam and a cup of hot tea when I got up.’

Ginger gave Tim three plates she’d got down from the cupboard and handed Wren some knives, forks, spoons and three mugs. ‘Just put them on the table in the middle of the kitchen and set yourselves down. I’ll fetch us a platter of eggs, bacon, and taters. And a basket of nice warm bread.’

‘Wren, if you will, just get a little crock of butter from that table by the door. And Tim, can you get a pot of honey and one of jam.’

She brought a teapot to the table and asked if Tim would do the honor. Then she heaped a platter with hot, tasty food and set it down in the middle of the table, a serving spoon at its side.

‘Help yourselves! There’s plenty more – don’t be shy! Once the meal is done and the table cleared I can tell you what we need done in the vegetable garden.’ Ginger helped herself to a large dollop of honey and stirred it slowly into her tea. ‘So, where are you two from?’ she asked as casually as she could, not wanting to scare them off. Nibbling at a piece of bread spread thick with blackberry jam she waited to hear their answer.

[piosenniel]

Ruby wiped her hand on her apron and offered her hand to the Elf. ‘Alcarillo Nession. Pleased to meet you. Nice name by the way. Rolls right off the tongue. Harlindon, you say. Our handyman’s wife is from Lindon. They just left here this morning bound for there to visit her family.’

Her small hand was lost in his larger one, and she felt somewhat self conscious at the smoothness of his skin. Hers, she was sure, was rough from all the washing up and such she did about the Inn. Nothing to be ashamed of! she reminded herself. She gave him a smile and pumped his arm once as firmly as she could.

‘Right then,’ she said disengaging her hand from his. ‘I’ll be back directly with your food and a pot of tea.’

Ruby paused to take a few more orders, then retreated to the kitchen. Loading her tray up, she made her way back to the common room. Eggs, bacon, and a basket of warm bread soon found their way to Alcarillo’s table. Along with a small pot of sweet cream butter, one of blackberry jam, and one of honey, in case he required it for his tea or bread. ‘Enjoy!’ she said as she placed the pot of hot steaming tea down next to the mug she’d brought him. ‘Just call if you need anything else!’

She hurried away, leaving meals for other hungry patrons, and picking up orders as she returned to the kitchen.

[Folwren]

Tim and Wren took the dishes and flatware to the table and set it. They did not mind being invited to breakfast before doing more work, though Tim promised himself that he’d be sure to complete anything they needed done in return for it. He wouldn’t be treated as a beggar...but, then, he couldn’t be letting his pride get in the way of what might be best for his sister.

The two of them gathered what things Ginger asked them to fetch and once they were all sitting down and the tea was poured and the food served out, Ginger opened conversation.

“So, where are you two from?”

Wren glanced at Tim and Tim looked at the tea pot, noticing for the first time the pretty design of leaves and strawberries. The fork that had traveled half way to his mouth went back down to the plate and he dropped his eyes.

“We come from somewhere near a little town called Bree, a way East of here, I guess.” He glanced up quickly. “We’ve just been...walking a lot lately, ‘s all.”

“Walking a lot,” Wren said with something of a disgusted tone in her voice and she sent her brother a surprisingly fierce look from her large brown eyes. “I’ll say,” she muttered.

‘Why won’t he tell them?’ she wondered to herself, turning her eyes to her food. She had told Woody the evening before of their misfortune but had not really thought about it. Now Tim’s keeping it back and she knowing that he didn’t want it mention made her think of it. There was nothing to catch her attention like the kittens had the night before and stop her thinking. Her appetite suddenly fled and her hand went to her mouth in a futile attempt to keep a sudden sob back. More followed, and in a moment, she was in tears.

“I’m sorry...I’m so sorry,” Tim said, springing up from the table. “I didn’t mean to ruin your breakfast.” He couldn’t look Ginger in the eye. He couldn’t have looked anyone in the eye just now. He bit his lip in a violent attempt to either not say anything sharp to his sister, or not to start crying himself. It was not a very sufficient solution to his problems, however, and he couldn’t help the tears that started suddenly to his own eyes.

He sat back down, put his elbows on the table, and covered his face with his hands, at least until he had gotten a hold on himself and had thought of something to say.

[Primrose Bolger]

The words and tears that her simple question had brought on surprised Ginger. She put down her bread and jam and got up quickly from her chair. Tim sat with his head in his hands looking as if he might bolt all together or burst into tears himself if she touched him or tried any words of comfort on him. Picking up her clean napkin, she went to Wren’s side.

Ginger put her hand round the girl’s heaving shoulders in a sympathetic manner. ‘Bree! Such a long way to have walked! No wonder you’re so worn out from it.’ She dipped the corner of the napkin in the small pitcher of cool water that sat on the table. Cradling Wren’s head against her shoulder, Ginger dabbed at the girl’s red cheeks where the tears ran. ‘Goodness, I’m in not yet in my tweens yet being just eighteen. And I’ve been hardly farther than the western edges of Hobbiton and the eastern edges of Bywater.’

She handed Wren the dry part of the napkin and told her to go ahead and blow her snuffy nose on it. The obvious question had been brewing in her mind since she’d first laid eyes on the two children. Big Folk or no, what were they doing wandering down the Great Road all alone it seemed.

‘Are you on your way to your folks, little one?’ Ginger asked gently. Then thinking that perhaps someone from the Inn could give the two a lift she inquired further. ‘Are they near?’

[Undómë]

Once they’d seated themselves, Teluyaviel shrugged off her cloak, letting it fall haphazardly over the back of her chair. Her eyes were bright with unfeigned interest as she looked about the room. ‘What an interesting place!’ she exclaimed, leaning forward to touch her brother on the arm.

Tindomion shook his head in agreement, knowing that if he were to give his real opinion it would elicit an argument until she felt he’d been brought to see her view. His eyes were on the other of the Elves who’d come to be at the Inn. ‘What brings them here to this rude place?’ he wondered to himself. ‘Where are they bound?’ his musings were brought to a halt as Telu patted him on the arm to gain his attention.

‘I’m quite hungry,’ she declared, looking to where the server who’d spoken to them had gone. ‘See if you can get her attention, Tindo,’ she went on, lifting her chin to where Ruby was hurrying back toward the kitchen. ‘Let’s see what they have to offer.’

Not one to resist a request from his sister, Tindo got up from the table and made his way toward the retreating Hobbit. His own stomach was wondering if the food would be edible.

‘Little Mistress!’ he called out, just a few steps behind her.

[piosenniel]

Ruby's poor impression on Tindomion

Ruby’s hand was on the door to the kitchen; her mind ticking off which table wanted what for breakfast. The voice behind surprised her; she had not heard the Elf’s light footfalls coming near her.

With a gasp she halted quickly and turned to see who spoke. The tray of dirty dishes wobbled precariously on her palm and tipped, sending plates, cups, utensils, and scraps of uneaten food careening toward the floor.

The latter unfortunately splashing on the toes of the Elf’s boots . . .

[Alcarillo]

Alcarillo ate his breakfast in silence, watching the visitors to the inn eat and talk. He spread some jam on his bread and munched on it thoughtfully, then moved on to the eggs and then the bacon. He sipped his tea, watching two other Elves find their seats near the fireplace. Alcarillo spread some honey on another slice of bread and thought of the quaint rustic-ness of the hobbits. Quite interesting creatures, he thought, and very kind and generous. I should visit this land again one day.

A clatter rang across the common room, and heads turned from their breakfast and towards the kitchen door, where someone had dropped a tray full of dirty dishes. Alcarillo saw an embarrassed Ruby standing with the mess spread about in front of her and extending to the feet of one of the two Elves who sat near the fireplace, now standing before her. Oh dear, he must’ve caught her unaware, Alcarillo thought, and she does seem a bit uncomfortable among Elves. Alcarillo recalled her ashamed expression when he introduced himself. Alcarillo took another bite of his bread and considered helping her clean the mess, if nobody else does, I will. For now he remained in his seat, feeling a bit of pity and compassion for the poor hobbit maiden.

[Larien Telemnar]

Larien slowly descended the star and peeked around the corner, feeling sheepish. She was usually awake and moving about much earlier than this, but the previous nights singing and talking kept her up late.

She cautiosly entered the common room and looked around, hoping for a glimpse of one of her newfound friends.

[Folwren]

“Are you on your way to your folks, little one?” Ginger asked gently. Then thinking that perhaps someone from the Inn could give the two a lift she inquired further. “Are they near?”

Wren could not answer. She just shook her head mutely and clutched the napkin that Ginger had handed her to her eyes. Tim hardly moved as he lifted his head slightly to speak.

“No,” he said, his voice dry and raspy, “No. They died, a while back. I’ve got to find work, but no one could take me at Bree and there was no place closer than The Shire. We couldn’t stay there with nothing for me to do to help survive. I’ve got to take care of her, you understand.” He looked up at Ginger, hoping that she did. “I’ll work to stay anyplace where it’s dry and warm and there’s enough to eat, but I won’t be given anything when I can do something for our stay and keep. I can work.”

He stopped, unable to go on for a minute both for lack of words and not wanting to overburden the kind hobbit lass. But after a moment, he went on. “If you knew of any place or anywhere we could go...I’d - I’d thank you a lot for it. We’ve been walking for a long time and Wren...we’re getting tired and I don’t think she could take much more.”

[Seth Cotton]

Seth was deep asleep in his feather bed and he snored lightly. He turned in the bed as the sun shone right at his face. A bird sang on the tin-plate of his window and he began to slowly awake. He was not sure what the time was, but it did not really bother him. He sat up, and the his sudden movement frightened the bird and it flew away.

He stretched and stood up, the wooden floor was still cold and felt really uncomfortable. He kneeled and fumbled with his hands udner the bed and pulled out his warm slippers. Seth went over to the window and gazed over the garden. The morning dew was still in the grass and as well on the leaves of the plants in the flower bed below his window.

It was a beautiful morning and he slowly went down the stairs and into the dining room where breakfast was being served. By the amount of people eating breakfast, Seth guessed that it was still pretty early. He got a hot bowl of some porridge, a piece of bread with some marmalade and a cup of tea.

He sat down by a table and began his meal. He sat in deep thought and enjoyed his meal and did not take much notice of what happened around him. He spilled some marmalade on his shirt, but was not really caring much about it. His thoughts went to the beautiful garden of Master Hornblower in Greenfields; he would truly miss all his duties there, but it was little he could do about it. . .

[Undómë]

Teluyaviel’s look of anticipation turned to one of horror as she saw the server turn toward Tindo and drop her tray of dishes. With quick steps she left her chair and hurried to the scene of misfortune.

‘So sorry!’ Telu said, crouching down, her skirts tucked out of the way. ‘Please, let me help you!’ Her slender fingers picked up the larger pieces of crockery and spilled spoons and such and piled them on the Hobbit’s tray. ‘Tindo! Get a broom, if you will. And the dustpan.’ She called out to her brother.

His brows raised at the suggestion, he looked about the room, wondering just where she expected him to find such things.

[Primrose Bolger]

Ginger was feeling a bit out of her depth. Wren’s eyes were swollen from tears; her voice choked. Her little hands twisted the napkin Ginger had given her in a hopeless manner. And Tim, here he was on the verge of tears himself, his voice all raspy. And him trying to be the big, brave man about it, trying to take care of his sister, himself, and his sense of pride.

The Hobbit sniffed back her own tears at their predicament and took a deep breath. ‘Well, Master Woodlock,’ she began, mastering her own quavery voice. ‘I had a good bit of work I thought you might help with today, at least. Mostly in the garden this morning. After that, I’m not sure . . .’

She heard Cook clumping up the wooden stairs from the cellar where she’d gone to fetch another ham to slice. Ginger’s face brightened as the knob to the fir door turned and the older Hobbit’s form stepped through, a fine smoked ham wrapped in a canvas carrying sling hanging from her right hand.

‘Cook’ll know what to do!’ she said with an assuring smile . . .

[Kath]

Astilwen walked slowly through the door of the Inn, stretching as she tried to work out some of the kinks in her neck and back. Though she did not recall doing so she had evidently fallen asleep on the bench outside while Eswen was talking. Feeling rather embarrassed about her rudeness she made up her mind to find the Elf and apologise, just as soon as she'd had a bath and put on some clean clothes at any rate.

She was on her way to do just that when she heard a clatter. Whirling around she saw that the woman who had been serving meals the day before had dropped a large amount of crockey. She was about to hurry over and offer help when an Elf maiden took charge of the situation. Glad for the respite Astilwen continued on through the Inn in search of the Innkeeper. As she had never booked a room she did not know whether there was a bath available or whether she would have to book first.

She headed over to the counter with the roster book and leaned against the wall to wait.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen paced the roof top before swinging herself back into her room, she hadn't slept all night, but it hadn't phased her at all. Too many thoughts were brooding in her mind to allow her to have a light rest.

Falowik and Uien had left in the night to Annúminas, in a few days perhaps she would follow them along that path. She couldn't linger here forever.

Her thoughts were interrupted for a time when her sharp hearing picked up the sound of clattering and shattering below. Eswen headed down the stairs, walking up to the flustered Ruby and the Elven lass who was helping her clean up the mess.

Another Elf stood by looking around helplessly, Eswen presumed that he was the lasses brother. "The broom is in the kitchen", she pointed to the wooden door hoping that the brother would take her advice.

[piosenniel]

‘Cook’ll know what to do!’

‘Now what’s happened,’ wheezed Cook. The ham she’d brought up from the cellar storeroom was a rather large and weighty one. And somehow the stairs to the kitchen seemed to have grown steeper and more numerous on the ascent.

Setting her burden down on the nearest counter, she wiped her hands on a hand towel and turned to face the trio at the table. ‘Oh my, what’s this?’ she said seeing the teary and distraught faces of the two Big Folk children.

Ginger blurted out the problem in a rush of words, mixing the facts all together in a mad jumble. Pulling out a chair for herself, Cook sat down and began to sort them out.

‘Well, first off,’ she began, ‘you’re still little’uns in my way of thinking . . . not safe for you to be wandering about out on the road.’ She looked toward Tim and nodded her head at him. ‘Not to say you haven’t done a good job of taking care of your little sister. You’re a credit in my book as a big brother. Stepped right up and took responsibility.’

She poured herself a cup of tea and sat considering the problem as she sipped it.

‘Do you have any folk anywhere we can help you get to?’ she asked. ‘If not, then we’ll figure something else out . . . taking into account, of course, that you’re willing to do your share of work for your keep.’

‘Ginger – fetch me a small plate of eggs and bacon, if you will. Planning’s always done best with a full stomach! my Gran always said. Now, come on you two, ply your forks to that good breakfast I made. And here . . .’ she went on, pushing the pot of honey toward Wren as she poured her a little more hot tea. ‘Try a spoonful or two of Gammer Oldbuck’s fireweed honey in it – very tasty . . . sweets for the sweet,’ she added, tucking into her own plate.

[Folwren]

Tim and Wren did their best to obey Cook and dried their eyes and picked up their forks to eat their breakfast. Little was said while the food lasted and Tim and Wren ate until they were full, taking the seconds that were freely offered. Ginger and Cook seemed anxious that they have whatever they needed and Tim felt awfully aware of it, though he was thankful.

When he was coming closer to being finished, Tim began to speak. He knew that Cook didn’t have all day to sit around and talk, so he would try to be as brief as possible, considering the circumstances.

“I don’t want to overburden you or anything,” he said, starting out and looking across the table at the hobbit. “And I wish I could answer more hopefully, but we really don’t have anybody we can go to. When - when Mama and Papa died, I had to make up my mind as to what to do quickly. I couldn’t stay, the last rent on the house was due and there was hardly enough money left to pay it. The landlord was kind enough to let us keep it, but it wasn’t enough, and I don’t have any of it left, though goodness knows I didn’t waste it.

“There was no work to be had in Bree...more and more people are coming in from the outside and no one needed a boy as small as me - begging your pardon as a hobbit, but I am rather little compared to the men there. We came here to the Shire because it’s the closest civilized place hoping to find something to do. We don’t have any relatives close by, Papa brought Mama from far out East. If you’re willing to take me, I can work and do a lot...I know how to handle horses pretty well, and I can work in the garden (Ginger mentioned that) and I can do other odd jobs about the place. Wren can learn how to cook - she’s smart - or she could clean or do whatever.” Shut up, Tim, before you sound as desperate as you are. “I’d have to ask,” he added, dropping his eyes quickly, and then looked back up at her, “that you didn’t send her out into the Common Room. A lot of people, you know, and she’s shy, and I wouldn’t like it, I don’t think.”

He came to a halt and stopped with his mouth open in surprise at what he had said. His words sounded as though he assumed that Cook would hire them then and there and he knew she had no obligation and no real reason to. He clapped his jaw shut and turned his eyes away as he scowled in furious anger at his presumptuous speech, and picked at the little food remaining on his plate with his fork.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Horses? A rare enough talent in the Shire - but then, nowadays young gentlemen such as yourself are rare enough as well."

Aman had entered through the side door through from the garden, pretty much unseen and unheard thanks to Derufin's well-oiled locks, and had been quietly listening from the doorway. Startled, Ginger jumped slightly, then smiled in relief at the Innkeeper; whereas Cook span around with her eyes narrowed accusingly as she realised that the Innkeeper had been listening, unseen. Aman held her hands up as if in surrender. "I apologise, I could not help but overhear."

"You were eavesdropping, Missy," Cook growled. Aman looked about to protest, then closed her mouth and shrugged, nodding and giving a slightly rueful grin. She saw Tim staring at her in amazement and winked at him, shrugging again. "Well, maybe a little bit..." she murmured. "But now I'm here..." she stepped further into the kitchen, off-loading an apron-full of freshly picked vegetables onto Ginger; the Green Dragon vegetable patch was a modest but well-kept plot which sprawled neatly around the side of the Inn, beside the kitchen, and the Innkeeper had happened to be picking from there this morning - it allowed her to be useful enough so as not to be berated by Cook, whilst avoiding the rush of all-too-perky customers early in the morning. The Innkeeper was not a morning person.

However, this morning was already looking to be a beautiful one, and despite the early hour, Aman was feeling the sun inside as the external one warmed her outside. Eyeing the two children, Aman realised that they were indeed the pair who had come in last night: on the right, with Ginger's comforting hand on one skinny shoulder, was the little girl; and on the left, having apparently developed a sudden and intense interest in the tea-pot, was her brother, the wary-looking boy, Tim. The woman sighed: she had suspected these two weren't looking for their parents, and apparently this had been confirmed. That was the problem with niggling suspicions: sometimes it was so much easier, for once, if one could just be proved wrong about them.

Turning to Cook, she clicked her fingers, suddenly remembering something. "Oh, Vinca - Goody Longhole was asking after you this morning. Something about you agreeing to swap a few of the Dragon's recipes with hers..."

Cook snorted in a most unlady-like fashion. "Swap? With her? That old trout, if she values her darned apple pie as highly as any of the Dragon's finest fodder and thinks I'll trade secrets for that, she is sorely mistaken! Been pestering me about it for weeks..."

The Innkeeper clandestinely raised an eyebrow at Ginger, wiping her earthy hands on her now muddy apron. "Well, you know, she has been working hard for the festivals this coming summer, that apple pie of hers isn't to be lightly valued anymore..."

"You consider her deserts to be finer than mine?" The old hobbit-wife was almost quivering with indignation. Aman hastily tried to remedy her words. "No, nonono, I didn't mean...I just meant that maybe a little extra help is maybe just what you need to show her exactly why the 'Dragon is famed for it's victuals." Cook settled down and Aman almost sagged in relief - the wrath of the homely looking hobbit matron was to be feared by the fiercest of battle-scarred warriors. But Cook had picked up on her drift by now, and at this point turned to Wren. Her face softened and, to Aman's surprise, her features took on an almost conspiratorial edge as she nudged the little girl carefully, winking. "What do you say? Reckon we could give that Goody Longhole a run for her money, eh?"

The little girl giggled between sniffs and returned the smile bashfully. Aman wordlessly offered her a clean handkerchief as she eyed her brother. He had looked up in surprise at the Innkeeper when Cook had given this apparent consent to them staying, but when he saw the Rohirrim woman returning his inquisitive gaze he reddened slightly but, not altogether to the young woman's surprise, he raised his chin and returned it - not insolently, but with a quiet pride. A stray he may have been, but this boy was not a beggar: a determination glinted in his grey eyes that Aman wasn't sure she did not recognise. She nodded slightly, more to herself than anyone else, and looked away, her eyes turning to her hands as she resumed wiping the dirt away, as she measured up the boy. The 'Dragon had always been a quietly charitable residence, certainly since Aman had got here: the Innkeeper had picked up a fair old reputation for 'picking up strays' as some of the older, disapproving goodwifes put it. But then, maybe it was a reputation which she deserved, and did not exactly resent: when those in hiding or without a friend were swept to the Dragon, the kind-hearted Innkeeper simply couldn't just turn them away, even when it would perhaps have been better to do so. Crystal, a girl on the run from her vicious father; Uien, an elven girl of such melancholy beauty who Derufin had adopted as his protege; and Snaveling, of course, always Snaveling - if there had ever been a fouler rogue who the Innkeeper would have been in her rights to turn away or, better still, have arrested, the Black Numenorian was it - yet her charity to him even when he spat it back in her face had been rewarded, had it not? She had found a key to a past she had never know to have had... Aman smiled slightly to herself. Yes, Tar-Corondir was an exception to every rule in the book, and more. But he was just more living proof that scorn of the hand she extended to wanderers was, if only sometimes, a scorn unstudied.

She looked up sidelong at the boy again, and nodded slightly once more. Looking in his eyes, eyes that had lost both parents and yet were still determined to keep their pride and make what they could of life, Aman was not sure that she did not see a little of herself in him. But to have been subjected to such loss so young… “Tim, isn’t it?” The boy looked slightly surprised, but nodded. “Your mother was an Easterling, you say? It isn’t an accusation,” she added hastily as the boy’s eyes flashed defensively. “It was merely a question. I have a fondness for the Eastern horses – indeed one of my three horses, Taydoch, is from the the region of Rhun – far East, I suppose, especially from the viewpoint of where I originate from.”

Tim frowned questioningly, and Aman answered, “Rohan. I am from the land of the Horse-lords.”

“Psh, not just from – Aman herself is a so-called ‘horse-lord’ – never seen a woman so fond of wearing riding leathers…” Cook interjected huffily, but with a touch of a smile in her expression nonetheless. Tim, his head whipping from one speaker to the other as if watching a tennis match, his eyes saucer-like, seemed speechless. “…you’re one of the Rohirrim?”

Aman smiled simply, then held out a hand to the boy. “If you truly have an aptitude for working with horses, we’ll get on just famously,” she replied warmly. “Come on, let me show you the stables – no point in hanging around…”

[Folwren]

Tim paused for half a second and then sprang to his feet. This was a chance being offered to him by a lady from his parent’s homeland. His father had not often spoke of Rohan, but when he had, there had always been a strange light in his eye that Tim had never fully understood, but did enough to know that it was a beloved land and that his father missed it. He came forward and took Aman’s hand and then looked back at Wren.

“Can you stay here for a bit?” he asked. She only nodded, and he and the Rohannian lady went out.

They crossed the bright yard and entered the dim barn again. Aman led him forward to the stalls and then stopped by one. She smiled down at him slightly as she undid the latch and then swung the door open and ushered him in.

A large mass moved in the corner across from them and Tim saw the horse’s head turn towards them. Its jet black, shining eyes caught the light from the open doorway and reflected it as it stared at Tim. Then he moved and shifted, pivoting on his hind legs to face the two visitors and took two steps forward to them.

“This is Taydoch,” Aman said softly from behind Tim. A smile came to the boy’s face and he extended his hand upwards to touch the horse. He felt the warm breath from his wide nostrils flow over his fingers and he gently stroked him.

Taydoch was a gentle horse, but seemed positively massive next to Tim’s slight figure. The lad didn’t mind and he wasn’t at all shy to walk forward to his shoulders and pass his hands along beneath his stomach and girth and feel the muscles of his legs and the delicately shaped bones of his fetlock and hoof.

“He’s beautiful,” Tim said, walking back to Aman with his hand trailing the handsome curve of Taydoch’s neck. The lady smiled.

“Come see the others,” she said, turning to go. “There are several here belonging to the guests.”

The two of them visited most of the occupied stalls as briefly as they could and then headed back towards the inn’s kitchen to see what could be resolved upon.