The Green Dragon Inn - Part 9

[piosenniel]

GREEN DRAGON INN FACTS:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Other ongoing characters in the Inn:

Ruby Brown, Hobbit – not married – server and maid

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

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

Ongoing characters from outside the Inn:

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

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

Please Note:



No 'SAVES' are allowed in the Inn.


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

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

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

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

IT IS NOW LATER MORNING IN THE SHIRE.

The Fire is out, though it is still very smoky; those at the Inn are taking stock of the situation. The wounded are being taken to the Inn stable, which has been cleared of the horses.

Buttercup and Ruby have started a small cooking fire, well away from the stable and remains of the Inn, and have put on a large, rescued soup pot filled with water. Members of the surrounding community have brought vegetables and a few soup bones for the making of a thick soup.

The stable’s pump is now the scene of people washing up bowls and spoons for the upcoming meal.

Some brave souls are still rescuing important items from the Inn

The Shiriff of Hobbiton, Fredgar Hornblower has arrived, and things are getting organized.

[SonOfBombadil]

After Lewis had made it out of the inn, not finding anyone in it, he had started right away with helping out in quenching the flames. As he passed buckets down the line, he looked around with smoke stung eyes te see if he could find Ravon. He found her helping out with the bucket brigade. Good, she's still safe.

-----

Rain had been coming down for a couple hours, and the fire was just smoking now. The inn was gutted, and that hurt Lewis. So many memories and good times gone like that. He was washing up by the well with Ravon. He had brought his horse over to a designated stable, and the wounded were being treated in the now empty stable. Lewis looked up at Ravon with a soot and mud covered face. He smiled. "Well, this has been an interesting few days." He said with a slow chuckle.

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa paused to take some deep breaths and stared hard at the man she was now tending. Something about him sparked a memory, something... distasteful. She remembered he had been involved in the dispute about the arson, but after that things got hazy. He seemed almost sad at something, like he had sustained a very heavy loss. This Roa could not understand. Perhaps he was attached to the Inn, which now lay in ruin. A meal was being prepared under the shelter of the trees, and mostly everyone was resting from the battle with the fire. She looked at the man again. He seemed nervous, as though he was expecting harm. Valthalion stood close by, in a protective stance, which greatly annoyed Roa. She didn't really need his assistance anymore. Then again, she thought, he did rescue me from the cellar. She still wasn't sure how she had gotten down there. All she could remember was rescueing the ale. Roa resisted the urge to laugh at the notion.

Roa looked from Valthalion to the strange man she was attending. Perhaps Val was the cause for the man's discomfort. "Valthalion," she called. Val looked up. "You have worked most courageously today. You deserve a rest. Go get something to eat." The young man looked reluctant to leave, and made it clear in his speech. But after many assurances from Roa that she would be quite alright, he headed towards the makeshift dining area. Roa turned back to the man.

"There now sir, everything will be quite all right. I shall not harm you, unless I am forced to defend myself. You are not nearly some injured as you could have been, and your wounds will heal quickly." Roa spoke soothingly, but the man looked confused. Perhaps he had been hit on the head harder than she realized. She tried again to reach him. "I am called Roa. What name do you go by?"

"Snaveling," he answered cautiously, "Do you not recall?" Roa thought very hard. So she had known him for an instant. Trying to remember made her dizzy though, so she only shook her head. "I fear my head was injured quite badly in the cellar, for I do not recall you at all, except for the disturbance earlier about possible arson. Even that is hazy, though I recall going in to rescue the ale," at this she shook her head in disbelief, "As near as I can discern, the ale must have tumbled and trapped me, and I fell and bumped my head. If I knew to any length, sir, I have forgotten." At this the man seemed most relieved, and this caused Roa some great ill-ease. However, a swell of dizziness surrounded her and she fell back onto her rear. When she fell, she tried to steady herself with her arm, and cried out as the burnt area was struck.

[WarBringer]

Valthalion walked the destroyed corridors of the Green Dragon Inn, moving toward the pump inside the Inn's stable. His head was swimming, as he went through all that had transpired throughout the day. He had been weary, looking for a place to stay the night. He arrived at the Inn, which was already in flames. He bravely fought the fire, and then watched as it spread to the surrounding trees. Suspecting foul play, he had thought that a southern man had been at fault, only to have the same man accuse him of starting the fire. He had met the Ranger Woman, and Roa, and was set free of all guilt by the Woman. Going into the cellar of the inn, he had saved Roa, a proud and pretty woman akin to the ranger. They had together caught the southern man and a hobbit in the act of stealing, and now here he was, sent away by the strong-willed Roa to rest.

He arrived at the pump, and started to help clean dishes in preparation of the meal. He recieved a mixed reaction from the nearby people. Some regarded the young man with awe, while others looked on scornfully. Valthalion hoped that they would realize that he had nothing to do with the fire, and, that they would commend him for his bravery in the fight, and rescue of the woman. Despite all his deeds that day, he still ached for the chance to prove himself to all, and especially to Roa, whom he now had a deep respect for.

[Kransha]

Tobias Hornblower cursed obscenely under his breath, reciting every foul word he knew. He wasn’t a having a very good day by any standards. His expensive vest had been destroyed, along with most of his pricy overcoat, he had lost every item that he’d pilfered during the day, much of it in an uncomfortable fiery explosion, and he’d almost been caught stealing by the prying eyes of that fellow, Valthalion.

The operative word of his problems was, of course, ‘almost.’ Toby was outside now, coughing loudly and keeping up his injured façade rather nicely, in his opinion. He wasn’t the best thespian on Middle-Earth, but he fancied himself a hobbit with a flair for the dramatic, especially after a night of good ale. The elder hobbit would have to avoid the man Valthalion and that other woman if he wanted to get away with what little he’d gotten away with, which, coincidentally, wasn’t very much. He’s managed to scurry sneakily away from the fray when that sniveling human had drawn Valthalion’s attention away from him. He tried to rest easy, but the steadying of the commotion worried him. Without mayhem, he wouldn’t be able to continue his habit.

About then, another very surprising sight found its way to Toby Hornblower.
“Fredgar…Fredgar Hornblower?” He spoke to no one in particular, just to himself.

On the lawn of Bywater Road, just outside the quelled fire of the Green Dragon, one of his cousins, Fredgar Hornblower, was supervising a number of hobbits and men in a directorial fashion. Toby wasn’t sure if it was a stroke of good fortune or a curse from above. He barely knew Fredgar, one of his many distant cousins in the Hornblower family branches. He knew that this particular Hornblower was an inhabitant of Hobbiton rather than Longbottom, and had actually attained the position of Shirriff there. It dawned on Tobias that this was definitely luck, finally something working out for the good instead of the bad.

[Fool Of A Took]

Fredgar asked Halfred where Aman could be but just Halfred shook his head and said "No, I haven't seen her since I arrived, but I believe she's inside the Inn and trying to get important things out of there." Fredgar nodded and looked around. He ordered Zackarias and Angus to help the wounded and himself would go to the stables and get the horses out. He passed a hobbit that looked familiar to him. He must be.... Wait... I know him... It's... Tobias Hornblower! He grinned to the hobbit, and the hobbit seemed to recognize him. "Toby!" he shouted and hugged him. "My old cousin. It have been to long since we last met." he said and grinned to Toby. "I must get the horses and ponies out of the stable. Would you help me?" Toby nodded. "Follow me." Fredgar said and began to run to the stable. Toby followed him. They entered by the side door of the stable. He could hear many of the horses and ponies neigh in fear and panic, since they've heard the screaming and the smell of smoke in there. Fredgar opened the big door at the front of the stable. It was quiet heavy but he and Toby managed to open it. "Help me take the horses first!" he shouted to Toby. The horses neighed so much that they could barely hear each other. It was a hard work, since the horses was frightened and paniced. They got them all outside and bound by tree's outside.

"Now the ponies!" he shouted to Toby. The ponies were much easier for them to handle as they were smaller than full grown horses that was in panic. They managed to get them all outside and bound beside the horses. "There! All out." he said to Toby and puffed. He leaned back to a tree. He was vey strong for a being a hobbit, but this was requiered more mental strength than muscles. I must see over the wounded together with Zack and Angus, he thougt and ran up. "I am so sorry Tobias, but I must run. We can talk later on when this is over. Duty calls!" he said and grinned to Toby. "Oh, and could you please take care of the horses and just look after them. It would be great if you could!" he said and turned and ran back to the Inn. At distance he could see Zackarias and Angus taking care of the wounded. "How is it going?" he asked and puffed. He wasn't in very good condition. "Well" Zackarias started, "Many of them have burn wounds. They are hard to heal and requiers much attention. This is harder than we thought!" Fredgar nodded and sat down beside them and helped a hobbit with his hands that he had burned when he threw water on the fire. He had been first in the bucket chain. The hobbit's eyes was looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"I must find Aman. Do you know where she is?" Fredgar asked and started to get annoyed that he couldn't find her. Angus hummed and said "No.. I haven't seen her anywhere." Fredgar sighed and stamped his foot in the ground. He coughed by all the dust that flew up when he stamped and then said "I go see where she is." Angus nodded and turned to the hobbit's hand. Fredgar looked around everywhere but Aman seemed like she was totally gone. He sighed and then started to run around and look for her. He could see Halfred and a few other hobbits, led by Halfred, that tried to organize a new bucket chain.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling was on his feet in an instant and reaching for Roa’s hand to steady her, even though his head was spinning from the revelations of his luck. It was as his grandmother had always counselled: Treasure your luck, not your gold, for your gold can be stolen. He had never much liked his grandmother – her quickness with the switch had been matched only by the meanness of her temper – but she had been a fount of such wisdom, and now he was glad for it as it gave him hope once more. Roa put a hand to her forehead, and let out an exhausted sigh. “Wait just one minute, my lady,” he said. Snaveling rushed off to the pump to fetch Roa some water. As he neared the pump, he made out the form of the young Man doing, of all things, the dishes. Snaveling had to fight hard to prevent a smile from creasing his face at that sight, and to resist taunting the boy.

After he had filled a cup with water, though, he had an idea. As he passed by the youth, he muttered -- just loud enough for Valthalion to hear -- “I’m glad to see you’ve found some work more suited to you…boy”. Valthalion bristled at that and rose up, his youthful wrath once more kindled. Snaveling pretended fear but inwardly rejoiced at the ease with which he could play on the child’s nature. “At least I am doing something to help these people” Valthalion snapped. “Unlike some, I am not using this tragedy to thieve.”

“Oh no?” Snaveling asked, still speaking low so that his voice would not carry. “Then where has my purse gone, eh? When I awoke, it was gone and only yourself and Roa were about me; I am willing to bet my life on her honour – but what of yours? Once today already you have threatened me, and were it not for Roa’s kinswoman, I daresay you would have spilled blood. Roa tells me that she was trapped in the cellar by some foul device, and were you not the first to find her? As to the fires amongst the trees, you know my beliefs about that already. Prove to me that you do not have my gold, and perhaps I will have a better opinion of you in future. But for now, I think it is best if you remain here with the washing.” He turned his back on the youth and moved toward Roa with the water.

This was too much for Valthalion, as Snaveling knew it would be. The youth threw his dripping washcloth to the earth and sprang at Snaveling, spinning him about. Snaveling cried out in mock-terror, “Ah me! Help! Help!” At the instant, there were a dozen pairs of ready hands restraining the youth. A sturdy hobbit with a feather in his cap approached, demanding to know what was going on. Snaveling was the first to speak, “I came to fetch water for one of the wounded, a noble Woman who has saved my life this day, and this boy attacked me!” Valthalion tried to speak, but the hobbit bid him hold his tongue. He narrowed his eyes at the both of them.

“I have been told that you two have been seen arguing and accusing one another while the Inn needed hands to save it. I have no time now to settle these petty disputes, but mark my words – as soon as we have restored some order, we are going to get to the bottom of this.” He turned to those holding Valthalion and ordered them to let him go. To Snaveling he said, “Take your water to the wounded, but do not stray far from the Inn until we have looked into this matter further.”

Snaveling had no intention of leaving the Inn, not until he had recovered his gold from Valthalion. He quickly returned to Roa, who had seen the altercation but not been able to hear a word of it. “What has happened between you and Valthalion?” she asked. Snaveling handed her the water and sat down beside her on the grass.

“I’m afraid I forgot myself with him my Lady. He hates me so – why I know not! – but to refuse to return my gold to me…” he shook his head sadly, like a man all too familiar with enduring the wickedness of the world.

“Your gold…?” Roa began.

“Yes, my Lady. A small purse holding all of my worldly treasures. I sold all of my belongings before leaving the South and I had hoped to use the small sum here to build a new life for myself. I had the gold when I went to the second floor to seek survivors, but when I awoke, it was gone. I know by looking at you that you did not take it – the air of lost Numenor is fair about you” (he remembered this from an ancient tale he’d heard at an Inn in Bree) “but that youth is impetuous and, as you saw, eager to do me harm.” Snaveling stopped suddenly, as though a thought had just occurred to him. “My Lady, something just occurs to me – I had not thought of it before but…when we went into the Inn to save the ale – yes, I was with you, but you bid me to the upper floors as we thought we heard cries for help. As I left you, though, I saw that youth running into the cellar. At the time, I thought nothing of it, but now…do you really have no memory of how you came to be trapped there?”

[Kransha]

"My old cousin, it has been to long since we last met." Said Fredgar, hugging him.

Of all the people on Middle-Earth, save Illuvitar himself, Fredgar Hornblower, Toby’s cousin, was the perfect person to show up outside the Green Dragon at that moment. After deciding whether having family around would be good or bad, Toby decided that it was a profitable fact that his cousin was now the Shirriff of Hobbiton. The only people that cynical old Tobias Hornblower was willing to help was family, since the Hornblowers back in the Southfarthing had a staunch loyalty to their lineage, and Toby, despite his immoral pursuits, was no different. He would never frown upon an offer or request from a Hornblower.

Fredgar asked him to help with the anarchic stable and evacuate all beasts of burden inside. Amazingly, Toby agreed without a second thought or word and set off to help. With a considerable amount of strength from Fredgar and some general assistance from Toby, the two hobbits had been able to do the job easily. Now Fredgar had run off, an action which Toby totally understood. His cousin had a position of some importance in this Farthing now and Tobias respected that. The elder hobbit was left with the horses, which were now reined in and bound carefully to one of the trees lining Bywater Road. He intended to do his best tending them, although he wasn’t really sure if the duty had any purpose. Either way, things had taken a turn for the better and that fact alone was pleasing enough for Tobias Hornblower. ‘My, my, he has grown a lot,’ thought the gentlehobbit as he saw the prominent figure of Fredgar Hornblower running off to do his duty to the community. He was, after all, Shirriff of Hobbiton (a fact which Toby kept tellin himself excitedly).

“Good horse,” he murmured, randomly stroking the side of one pony whose side he could actually reach, compared to the larger a more imposing musculature of the horses which stood taller than the gentlehobbit. Toby didn’t know anything about tending horses or ponies, but it didn’t look that hard. The beasts brayed and whinnied and even occasionally jostled about, pulling at the ropes that held them, but they seemed otherwise calm. Toby, who’d had a very long day, was content to do this job and be happy with it.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman shut the pen behind her as she led Rochfalmar in, murmuring soothingly to the horse. But she needn't have feared - Pio's old horse was as dauntless as the half-elf herself, and snickered reasurringly, nuzzling Aman's shoulder gently as the Innkeeper turned. Aman ran her hand down the horse's nose an neck, making small shushing noises as she did so and entwining her fingers in her hair. Around her, the other horses from the Inn were calming down, as if Rochfalmar's solid prescence was giving them some sort of calm as well - the silver mare was the last horse into the pen, although Aman had not had her out of the stables last. She would not have dreamed of letting her friend's horse get injured, despite the fact the flames were nowhere near the stables.

"We have lost the Inn, Aman." Cree's words came back to the Innkeeper and she frowned viciously - how dare she?! They had not lost the Inn, and for her to have pointed it out in a manner so unhelpful... her grip on Rochfalmar's hair tightened until the horse gave a small, gently reproachful whinny and she loosened her fingers from her hair with a start. Turning she looked back to the Inn, knowing she should get back quickly; the smoke was rising from the roof, but the flames were gone, and the damage was not as much as was feared; although the cellar had fallen in on itself at the top and one side of the Common Room had crumbled entirely, the rooms above had held, the solid wooden beams around the room scorched but holding firm. No one could ever criticise hobbit craftmanship. The smell of warm horse-flesh and the sounds of the horses and ponies moving gently around the Rohirrim Innkeeper calmed her and comforted her and her anger began to melt away. "We haven't lost it, have we, Rochfalmar?" she murmured gently to the horse who regarded her with an unnervingly intelligent gaze. The Innkeeper grinned cheekily as she added in a whisper. "At least, I bleedin' well hope not - can you think what Pio and Vinca would say to that?!"

The mare gave a layered whinny that sounded almost like a chuckle and tossed her head and Aman grinned, letting go. Rochfalmar was no ordinary horse, and she had made her feel better.

"Miss Aman, is that you?"

Aman turned, a slight frown coming back onto her face subconciously as she braced herself for all sorts of bad news, but instead she was greeted by the slightly anxious, plump face of the Shirrif of Hobbiton, who was twisting his hat in his hands. Although a smear of ash graced one cheekbone like a strange new make-up and her brown hair was awry, pulled out of its usual bun to fall a little messily over her shoulders, Aman's face lit up. "Shirrif Hornblower!" she exclaimed.

The hobbit grinned, replacing his hat on his head and beside him Tobias gave what sounded suspiciously like a sigh of relief. Aman knelt in front of them so as to be more on their level, shaking hands with Fredgar warmly. "Shirrif, thank you for coming, it is much appreciated."

Fredgar Hornblower nodded graciously, and a small frown crept onto his face. "I am sorry for the loss of your Inn, Miss Aman-"

"Loss?" Aman's tone was rathr sharp and sensed Tobias stiffening slightly. The hobbit was one of those who wasn't entirely at home with the Big Folk, and this one had a rather large mare looming behind her as well. "I don't think we have lost the Inn, Shirrif."

Fredgar looked a little uncomfortable and Aman held his gaze for a moment, then he smiled. Aman grinned back, straightening. "Nay, 'tisn't anything we can't deal with, I think!"

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa had watched the exchange between the two men with great discomfort. Her head was swimming, and the pain in her arm kept her from focusing. Snaveling returned and handed her some water, which did much to revive her. She still couldn't quite focus enough to answer Snaveling's question. When in doubt, her father had taught her, trust your instincts. Well, she knew what her instincts were saying, but it didn't quite make sense. When she paused, Snaveling quickly stated,"There is no need to answer now, my lady, wait until you've been tended." No that will not do at all, Roa thought. Questions had been asked, as much by Snaveling as her own mind, and they need to be answered. Giving in to her instincts, Roa stayed him from fetching a healer.

"What happened I know not. I truly am unable to remember. As for Valthalion, he is rash and quick to anger, but such is to be expected from a youth such as he. I do not doubt his heart." Roa did not stop, for tact was not her better qualities; indeed, she was known to be quite blunt. "It is you whom I find distasteful. I know not why, but I have been taught to trust my instincts," she added quickly, stemming the man's protest. Snaveling looked genuinely shocked, and wether it was due to her accusations or that they were correct, she could not, tell. She felt somewhat guilty at having potentially insulted him, especially if she was wrong. When mind and heart are at odds, doubt and confusion are sure visitors. "Though, even if I am correct, you do have redeeming qualities in you." Snaveling did not answer, and at that moment, Roa's stomach grumbled very loudly. She trhew back her head and laughed loudly. It was good to laugh; somehow it cleared away a few cobwebs and eased her pain. She laughed until she lay on the ground, shaking from the bubbling joy within her. She sat up and almost started laughing again at Poor Snavelings expression.

"I had forgotten that I have not eaten since yesterday. Come, let us see it they have finished the food." She held her hand out to Snaveling, and he pulled her to her feet. She was able to walk on her own, now, but used Snaveling for support anyway. It was better that he thought her still weak. She would see a healer after eating.

[Fool Of A Took]

Fredgar nodded slowly and looked at Aman. “Of course, the Inn can still be saved.” He looked around himself and saw Buttercup and Ruby preparing a meal for the tired and scared people around. Zackarias and Angus were doing their job well. He got reminded of Tobias that stood outside the stable and looked after the horses. “By the way, I have met my cousin here, Tobias Hornblower, and we brought the horses and ponies out of the stable.” Fredgar said and turned back to Aman. Aman nodded and Fredgar said “He is outside the stable and are looking after them.” Fredgar coughed by all the thick smoke in the air. “Just tell me if you need me for anything, I must go and check how Tobias is doing with the horses!”

He turned from Aman and ran to the stable where Toby was. He could see him sitting by a horse and clapping him. As Fredgar came running he stood up. Toby seemed to be happy sitting there and watch them, Fredgar smiled to him and waved. “Is everything alright here?” Fredgar asked Toby. Toby nodded and grinned. Fredgar began to think of what they should do with the horses, he had forgot to ask Aman that. The horses seemed worried about something. They were trying to get the ropes of and Fredgar and Toby tried to calm them down. I must hear what Aman thinks we should do with the horses. After all, she is from Rohan and probably do know more about horses than I do.

He told Toby to run to Aman and ask her what they would do with the horses. They intended to be really worried about the smell of fire. Fredgar was quiet used to ponies and their reactions but not horses. As Toby ran to find Aman, Fredgar tried to calm them down and stroke the most paniced horse over the neck. The rain seemed to never stop and Fredgar soon became wet. He pulled up his hood, but it didn’t help very much. He coughed and shrugged. It was getting cold too. He shrugged even more and jumped up and down meanwhile he tried to calm down the horses. One horse was almost free from its bound by the tree but Fredgar managed to get it fixed. “Don’t worry, it will be over.” He whispered softly in the horse ear. He knew that the horse didn’t understand him yet it calmed down a bit. The rain sprinkled down his face and he took up a handkerchief and dried his face.

His own pony, Roman, was standing there. He was the only pony that was almost calm. He didn’t neigh at all and just stood there and looked with sad eyes at Fredgar. Fredgar tried to smile, but the cold rain made it hard to smile. He sat down on a stump nearby the horses and pulled up his pipe from his pocket at the inside of his cloak. He lighted it and waited for Toby to come back with words from Aman.

[Kransha]

Toby, following the commanding word of his cousin, ran quickly from the stable area towards the location where the innkeeper and her imposing horse had headed. Luckily, the commotion was dying down and this whole endeavor was becoming manageable. The old hobbit knew (or at least thought) that he would be exonerated of all shortcomings if he made an honest attempt to help out. He was obviously uncomfortable being around all the prying eyes of big folk and outsiders, but he persisted, practically galloping around on Bywater Road and trying to find that young Rohirrim woman, Aman. After letting his keen eyes make several passes at the terrain and landscape, Toby caught sight of the large steed Roafrim, the woman's mount.

‘By the Shire, how did I get into this mess?’ he asked himself, almost chiding himself inwardly for forgetting himself and trying to pilfer everything from beneath the smoke-filled noses of everyone around him. The presence of his cousin had snapped that weak cord that held his greed in place. He was still eager to get some reward for his actions, just as materialistic as ever, but he actually hoped he could be of some assistance. By now, almost all of the escapees had left the area. Only members of the bucket brigade and valiant volunteers remained, busying themselves with whatever they could do to help out. Most had headed away from the inn to get some food. A meal was apparently being prepared and Tobias was starting to notice the rumbling and growling in his stomach.

“Excuse me! Hello! Miss Aman!” He yelled over the din of concerned voices and the clip-clopping of horse’s feet on the lawn of the Green Dragon. There was less noise to conceal Toby's gruff voice, but still enough to mask it's presence. He yelled louder, trying to get the mounted inkeeper's attention fixed on him.
“Fredgar wants to know what we should do with the horses. Many of them are restless and close to breaking free and running wild. The Shirrif wishes to know you solution to this problem and requests your wise counsel on such matters. I'm sure he also prays you will hurry with this adice, since the steeds will not remain under our control for much longer. The Shirriff thought you would be able to give counsel on the subject of horses, considering your...uhhm...your..." He trailed off, not quite sure if it was wise to bring up the fact that she was from Rohan. Since it was rather obvious that he didn't like foreigners, such a comment might not be appreciated and Toby couldn't afford to make an enemy out of the current inkeeper.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman watched Tobias carefully as he trailed off and suddenly became very interested in the rather scorched hairs on his feet. Although she personally had missed his little outburst on why all foreigners should be expugned from the Shire, his views of all non-hobbit folk were well known, and she was not in the mood to make this any easier for him if he had anything to imply. However, when he stopped, realising, she nodded, satisfied. "Indeed, I have some experience with horses, as I am indeed from Rohan," she smiled slightly and he looked bashful, before she went on, "and used to be a horse trainer. Where is the Shirrif?"

Tobias led her to the stables, with Rochfalmar following impatiently. They arrived apparently just in time, for as the Innkeeper appeared in the doorway, one of the horses, fretful about the smoke, gave a great whinny as it reared up, and the twine tying it to the stall side finally snapped. Perilously near it's flailing hooves stood a panic-stricken Fredgar. Hastily handing Rochfalmar's leadrein to Tobias with a gabbled disclaimer, Aman dived forward to knock him out of the way, closing the stable-door sharply behind her. She spent a few moments trying to calm the horse - it wasn't that large, only about 15 and a half hands, but to a hobbit it would certainly be rather daunting; certainly nothing the Rohirrim Innkeeper couldn't handle. Holding the horse firmly by the the frayed end of twine attached to it's head-collar, she turned to the Shirrif, who was dusting himself down, and inclined her head apologetically to him. "Apologies, Mister Hornblower."

Fredgar smiled quickly, slightly embarrased by gracious, an excellent quality in the hobbit. "Quite alright, Miz Aman, thankee kindly. Now...about all these horses...?" he trailed off, spreading his hands.

"You are used to horses, Mister Hornblower?"

Fredgar gave a sort of shrugging nod. "Well enough, well enough - well, ponies at any rate."

Aman nodded. "Then it is only the ponies I shall require you to deal with. There is a far pen, a paddock, some way beyond the Inn yard but owned by the Inn premises. I believe we will be able to put the horses and ponies there, at least for a while, which will take them away from the fire, the smoke from which is distressing them, and give the customers somewhere to shelter and rest out of the rain. Ruby and Buttercup were talking about setting up a soup fire as well, which is excellent - just so long as we can get all these steeds out and into the paddock. What say you?"

Fredgar nodded eagerly, straightening his jacket and looking purposefully at two of the ponies. "Aye, Miz Aman, indeed - Tobias will probably help as well, once he is brought around to it."

Just don't tell him it was the idea of a foreigner... Aman thought grimly, but smiled gratefully, thankful for the hobbit Shirrif's help. "Thank you kindly, Shirrif. I will take Rochfalmar and this here horse," she nodded towards the fretful grey horse whose headcollar she still had a firm grip on, but who was nonetheless attempting to gnaw at the Innkeeper's fingers, then continued, "out first. Select one pony, or two if you are alright with it, and follow when you are ready. Don't come too close behind, mind - I don't think this little one here will bear any aggravation from anyone or anything, hmm?" She smiled at the horse, almost addressing the last part to it - it was quite cute, in a mischievious sort of way, and she wondered who owned it. "Follow about 20 metres behind, say."

With that, she reopened the door and took Rochfalmar's halter from a relieved Tobias, who then got called in by his cousion. With the mischievous little mare in one hand and magnificent Rochfalmar in another, Aman set off across the yard. When she was about half way across, she caught sight of Hawthorne. The hobbit's expression was troubled, and when Aman smiled wearily at her, she looked positively as if she was about to cry. Aman's brow creased and she made a mental note to ask what was wrong once she had deposited the pair of horses in the field, before Hawthorne seemed to make up her mind and began hurrying towards her...

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

After nearly nodding off again, Asphodel jerked her head up. The rain had nearly stopped, and the clouds were beginning to break and let in the warm, golden rays of sunshine. The air, despite the still heavy scent of smoke when approaching the Green Dragon, was fresh and invigorating.

Asphodel stood up slowly and peered down the dirt road leading out of Bywater. Still no sign of her father. She felt a little better, though she still had pain in her chest, so she decided that she would search for Aman.

Walking slowly and carefully, so as not to slip on the thick mud that now coated the ground, she began walking towards the ruins of the Inn.

Weaving her way in and out of different people, none of whom seemed to notice her, Asphodel eventually found herself standing at the threshold of the Green Dragon. She surveyed the damage. The roof was burnt completely, and a large gaping hole stood out in the center. The walls and floor had been scorched and blackened, and some of the table and chairs had been twisted into odd shapes.

My father is going to be angry thought Asphodel. She could just hear him now, "What have those Big Folks been up to?" he would vent. "How many times have I said it? But no one will listen to me. 'No good will come of it,' those were my exact words. And just look now! The Green Dragon, burnt to a crisp!"

Asphodel smiled. She knew she wouldn't hear the end of it for many weeks.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Hawthorne Brandybuck:

Hawthorne had spent the remainder of the morning wandering amid the charred piles of ashes in the common room trying to salvage what few trinkets and Inn furnishings that she could. The kitchen was a total mess. All the pots and pans and dishes would need to be replaced to say nothing of the walls and floorboards! Every step she took, her heart grew heavier. She was responsible for this horrible mess. How could she have been so stupid ?

Once or twice, she heard hobbits muttering under their breath about the 'foreigners' who had purposely done this wicked thing, then shooting nasty glances over at the Men and Elves. That made her feel even worse. Finally, she could stand it no longer. She resolved to go face the Innkeeper and tell her the awful truth. Hawthorne vowed to take whatever punishment Amanduial meted out to her. She imagined herself doing dishes for the next twenty years!

Her eyes brimming over with tears, Hawthorne looked up and saw the Innkeeper leading some horses out of the stable. Thank goodness none of the animals had been hurt. Hawthorne beckoned to Aman from across the courtyard and quickly ran over to her side. She intended to explain in a clear simple manner how she had been angry at Ruby and Buttercup for snubbing her when she had worked so hard the evening before. Because of that, she had stupidly decided to show them up, and came down to the kitchen to prove that she could cook breakfast without help from anyone. That's how the oil in the pan had caught on fire, and she was very sorry indeed.

Unfortunately, what Hawthorne thought she said to Aman and what Aman actually heard were two different things. There was a great deal of noise in the courtyard, with horses neighing, dogs barking, and a few folk groaning loudly over their injuries or the loss of their possessions. As a result, it was very difficult to make oneself clearly understood. Added to this was the fact that Hawthorne was very, very tired., and she may not have explained things too clearly. The hobbit had stayed up most of the night, crept down early to the kitchen, and was now overcome with noxious fumes and smoke. By the time she came over to talk with Aman, Hawthorne could barely stand upright on her feet.

The Innkeeper's eyes widened in shock as the Bucklander's apology registered in her head. Aman could scarcely believe the words she was hearing:

Mistress Aman, I'm so sorry. But I must tell you the truth. A foreigner didn't set fire to the Inn. I did. I was very stupid. I was angry at Ruby and Buttercup for being nasty to me after I worked all evening as hard as I could. So I decided I would show them a thing or two. I came down to the kitchen in the early morning to cook breakfast, poured the oil in the frying pan, and then used it to set the Inn on fire......

Hawthorne had no idea of just how tangled her story sounded. She looked up pleadingly into the Innkeeper's eyes hoping to see even a tiny glint of understanding or forgiveness, then straightened up her head and waited for the punishment to be handed down.

[Fool Of A Took]

Fredgar nodded and walked to the ponies. He saw one who was brown with a white spot on it's forehead. He smiled to it as it seemed most eager to get away. It scratched its hoof against the ground and snorted repeatedly, to show it's dislike of the smell of smoke. "Calm down, calm down." Fredgar said and stroke the pony over its forehead ont he little white spot. As the pony neighed he leaned closer the horse and hushed. The pony got quiet and Fredgar said "You will get away from here now, dont worry." The pony snorted again, but now it sounded mor thankful. He smiled to the pony and loosed the rope from the tree. He called for Tobias to take one or two ponies too. Tobias nodded and did as he said. Fredgar also took another pony that was quiet small. It seemed very restless and it's eyes looked frightened. He felt so sorry for him, so he loosed his rope too and began to lead him after Aman. Aman now was about half way from him, but had stopped. Fredgar tried to see why she stopped, she could see that she had stopped for a hobbit.

Tobias came up behind him with two ponies and asked what was going on. Fredgar just shrugged his shoulders and said "I don't really know, but we better wait here until she starts walking again" He sat down on the ground beside a pony and waited, and Toby accompanied him. Aman looked tired even from this distance. He saw Ruby and Buttercup too in distance preparing a meal. Many of the tired volunteer's sat at the Inn's lawn and the bucket brigade continued it's job. Fredgar could never imagine that something like this could happen. He could see many sad faces and a few of them cried of fear and sadness. Zackarias and Angus helped a hobbit child with his feets. He had stepped in hot ash and his worried mother stood beside and watched on the verge of tears. She began to walk in circles and looked totally restless.

He turned to Tobias again and saw that he looked at Aman. The hobbit she talked to looked very upset. Fredgar thought that something was wrong and suddenly rose up. "Wait here Tobias, I will just go see what's going on with Aman!" Toby noddded and Fredgar ran to Aman. He stopped beside them and jumped up and down a little and said "What's going on?" Just when he said that and came up behind them he could hear the hobbit say "and then used it to set the Inn on fire." Fredgar just got chocked and looked at the hobbit. She had caused the fire?! He looked at Aman and could see that her eyes looked empty and sad. "Errhm... Excuse me ladies..." Fredgar began and then paused as the hobbit noticed him. "You caused the fire?" Fredgar continued and sounded more harsh. The hobbit slowly nodded and blushed. She looked down at her feets. Fredgar then rememberd his duty and said "I am afraid I have to arrest you for causing the fire at the Green Dragon Inn!" Fredgar looked at her. And the hobbit looked up and he could see she cried.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The soup smelled delicious, but Snaveling’s stomach was still full with the stolen bread and meat of his breakfast. It had been many years since he had enjoyed more than one hearty meal in a day, so it was without any hardship that he passed his bowl of soup to Roa, saying “You should have this, my lady. From the sounds of it, you need it a good deal more than I.” At that Roa smiled, and thanked him with an expression that Snaveling recognised as kind. He regarded this Woman for a moment in a new light, kindled by this look and by the echo of the easy laugh that had filled her frame just moments before. Snaveling was capable of laughter, but only at the expense of others – her laugh had been different, and it had rekindled memories that he had thought long forgotten. Roa attacked this second bowl with vigour, giving Snaveling a moment to think in silence. He had been taken aback by Roa’s blunt assertion of her suspicions, and he could see that it was not going to be an easy thing to turn her against Valthalion. Not that this surprised him in the least: as far as he was concerned, these self-proclaimed Men of the West were all the same in their arrogant presumption to rule the lands they had taken from Snaveling’s ancestors in ages past. Still, it could not hurt to try and win Roa to him in whatever measure he could. “You appear to be enjoying your soup, my lady,” he said.

She looked at him over the rim of her bowl. “Yes, thank you. The Halflings are renowned for their cooking and I see now that this reputation is not undeserved.”

“Are you familiar with these people?”

“Only what I have heard of them from my lord.” She saw the searching expression in Snaveling’s eye. For a moment, Roa hesitated, but then she explained, “I serve the King Elessar.” Snaveling could barely control his reaction of distaste, and Roa could see this. She sat forward. Her eye became hard, but her voice was even as she said, “I know that many Men such as you feel you have cause against my lord and King, but he is wise and just. He will give you justice, should you seek it of him.”

Snaveling readied a spiteful retort, but something in the eye of this Woman stopped it in his throat. Perhaps he was afraid of what she might do should he insult her King. Perhaps, just perhaps, Snaveling really did, for a moment, feel the air of lost Numenor about them – he himself would have been hard pressed to explain his sudden mood. Roa’s words came back to him: You do have redeeming qualities in you, she had said. Long may you think so, to your detriment Snaveling chuckled inwardly…and yet, even as he did so, something that he had not felt in a long time began to squirm at the back of his mind. It was a nameless feeling, more an instinct of Men than an idea, an instinct that was not dissimilar to conscience.

But then his eye fell on Valthalion helping with the dishes and the food, and all such feelings were driven back. Keep your mind on your business, he warned himself. There was still the matter of his gold to see to, not to mention keeping out of the lockups and avoiding a nasty confrontation with either Valthalion or – Oromwe forbid – Roa herself, should her memory return. He returned his gaze to Roa and saw the searching look with which she was regarding him. He hid his thoughts.

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa ate the soup ferociously. She remembered a time, back before the War of the Ring, when she was here in the northern forests. She was eating, and one of her friends remarked that she had the appetite of a hobbit. King Ellesar, who was then known only as Aragorn, had walked by and chuckled at the comment. He kept walking. Her friends had ribbed her about making a slob of herself in front of the King, for even then he was recognized by the Dunedain. Roa had defended herself by asserting she had earned the meal with all of her hard labor that day. She had done well, indeed. Afterall, she was partially responsible for the food they ate that day.

With such a memory in mind, she was unapologetic as she finished off the second bowl. She had earned that today as well. The steady throbbing in her arm and head reminded her that she had also earned a trip to the healer. The soup was reviving her little by little. She felt certain that soon she would regain her memory. It was only a matter of time. She smiled over her bowl at the thought, in Snaveling's direction. He did not return the gesture. He seemed ill at ease, as though he feared something here. He glanced at Valthalion, and then away quickly. Is it Valthalion he fears? That would be understandable, roa mulled it over. Thinking she had found the reason of his discomfort, Roa spoke up.

"Sir, you have shown me kindness in your actions. Before, I told you that no harm would come to you through me, save in self defense. As much as you dislike my people, we are true to our word. If you are no danger from me, and as for Valthalion, I will not allow him to harm you either. You will have nothing to fear from either of us. I am a servant of King Elessar, a Dunedain of the North, and our word is binding till death." Snaveling gaped, as though he had never expected such a promise nor held such a notion as binding words. It was uncomfortable for her to meet a man who did not hold to his word. However, she had added the exception of self-defense, which relieved her somewhat. Rangers always spoke carefully for their word was indeed binding.

"You are very gracious, my lady, I thank you for your words." Snaveling replied after a long moment. He spoke as one choosing his words carefully. Roa could see the many thoughts grinding through his head, and wished she had the power of the great Elves to read them. Take care to know your emeny's movements, an instructor had once told her. Very well then, she would keep a very close eye on Snaveling, and Valthalion for that matter. He was too rash to be left with out guidance.

The pain was becoming more insistant, and even as he shifted, Snaveling visibly winced. Roa decided it was time for that healer. She rose carefully to her feet. "Come, you and I must be tended to, or we will fall apart!" she laughed. Joy was a natural part of her being, and stayed the sorrow with which so many of her people had lived with for so long. Now it aided her in lowering Snaveling's guard, and he rose with her with what passed for a smile. Together, they went to find a healer.

[Amanaduial the archer]

The Innkeeper's eyebrows shot up as she stared down at Hawthorne, her grip tightening on the reins of Rochfalmar and the black horse until her knuckles were completely white and her nails dug into the palms of her hands. But she barely noticed this, and neither did she notice Fredgar appear beside her.

The Shirrif cleared his throat and announced authoratatively, "I am afraid I have to arrest you for causing the fire at the Green Dragon Inn-!"

"You did what?!"

Aman's yell cut over the end of Fredgar's sentence and, even in the crowded and noisy yard, it caused several heads to turn to see the Innkeeper now a somewhat menacing figure, holding two huge horses (or so they seemed to the hobbits) who were shifting their hooves nervously, her hair wild, her face white and her jaw clenched with anger. Hawthorne cowered. Fredgar cowered. The black horse snickered then even it cowered as Aman glanced at it. In front of her, Hawthorne didn't speak, and at the back of her mind a small part of Aman was warning of just how tired the little hobbit lass looked, but to the Innkeeper's tired and angry brain it seemed like an acceptance of guilt. She could see, ever-present in her vision, the side of the Common Room where the kitchen would be, now smouldering ash and smoke, and here in front of her was the culprit who had caused it, one of her own servers if-you please. She was tired. She was frustrated. She was angry. It wasn't often that the Innkeeper got very angry, and in her time at the Inn it had only really happened once...

...and as Ruby, Buttercup and some of the more regular customers were now uneasily remembering, that episode had ended with the Innkeeper drawing a sword from beneath the bar and flinging it so hard that it embedded itself in the opposite wall only a few inches above the brawlers' heads.

"Let me get this straight," the Innkeeper said, her voice now controlled, but barely - she spoke softly but through gritted teeth. "You have the cheek to say you were angry because the two servers who have worked and lived at this Inn for longer than I have, were apparently being nasty to you," she glanced at Ruby and Buttercup here, who were now standing and watching, mouths open, "and so, because of this and in return for my giving you a job, you decided to set fire to my flamin' Inn! Is that it?!" She was almost yelling by the end of this.

Hawthorne looked horrified. "Oh, Miz Aman, no - no that isn't it at all! I wasn't trying to set fire to the Inn-!"

"You just said you did!" The ferocious Innkeeper looked to be in danger of imploding so hard was she trying not to yell. As a horse-trainer, she knew she couldn't do that when the beasts were already so fidgetty, but she wasn't quite so aware that the tension flowing from her was enough already.

Fredgar didn't seem comfortable with this angry human's anger either, but the Sherrif of Hobbiton knew the Green Dragon quite well, and he was flushed with anger as well, fumbling for a pair of handcuffs he kept but had never actually had occasion to use. "Miss, I am afraid I am going to have to arrest you on a charge of-"

"Not yet you aren't!" Aman interrupted once more, her voice hard and harsh. Her head snapped up and she caught Buttercup's eye. "Buttercup, please could you send a rider or a runner to Mr Meriadoc."

The glint of hope in Hawthorne's eyes vanished abruptly and a look of utter horror replaced it. Looking down once more at Hawthorne, Aman crossed her arms and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them and spoke again, she seemed slightly calmer, but her voice was dangerously soft, which one might think would be hard to hear above all the racket in the yard, but somehow it cut through like steel through silk. "Alright then, Miss Brandybuck. Please explain why and how exactly you deigned to set fire to my Inn."

[WarBringer]

Valthalion looked on in disgust as he saw the smiling swarthy man sweet-talking Roa. He even managed to get a smile out of her. How can she not see through him? He is so obviously evil... The sight of the man and a person as admirable as Roa getting along almost made the excellent soup taste badly. I must talk to Roa about that man, thought Valthalion. Just as he got up to talk to her, the man and Roa began walking away.

Valthalion followed, but kept his distance. Perhaps I can catch this man when he shows his true colors.., thought Valthalion. Then another thought struck him. WHat if he had been wrong the whole time? Perhaps this man was innocent, and really was a good, kind soul. But no, he had stolen the gold. Unless perhaps the gold was his? After considering this, Valthalion's errand changed. He now wished to catch up to Roa and the man to apologize and offer his friendship.

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

Asphodel, still standing at the entrance to the Green Dragon, heard a bit of comotion behind her. She turned around and saw that Aman finally come back, accompanied by Fredgar Hornblower, the Sheriff of Hobbiton. She was about to run to them, in the hope that they would be able to help her get home, when she saw a young Hobbit maid approach Aman.

The next few minutes, Asphodel, though trying hard not to listen to the conversation so as not to be rude, heard enough to realize that the Hobbit maid had started the Inn fire. The Sheriff tried to intervine, and eventually someone was dispatched to go fetch Master Meriadoc Brandybuck. I wonder why they are going to get him thought Asphodel. Though he was the master of Buckland, he didn't usually dapple in matters of the law.

Asphodel suddenly found herself sized by a bought of coughing. She sat down again, a little tired, at the entrance to the Inn. She did not think it wise to bother Aman at the moment, who had turned as red as a ripe tomato upon hearing the young Hobbit maid's speech. She decided she would wait until her father came to get her. She didn't know if she could make it all the way to her house on her own two feet, but at least his presence would be comforting.

A rumble from her stomach told Asphodel that it was breakfast time. She hoped her father would come soon.

[Kransha]

Toby Hornblower had had quite enough of tending restless animals.

“Stupid horses,” he murmured, casting an annoyed glance at one of the animals. His stomach seemed to be swelling and contorting wildly in its search for food. Surely he could abandon the creatures just long enough to get some sustenance. He desperately needed some good pipe-weed and a mug of ale or two. He got up, squirming between the closely bunched posse of horses and ponies, worming and scurrying along towards the makeshift camp of the Green Dragon “refugees.”

He walked briskly past his brother, who obviously had his hands full with the innkeeper and another hobbit, and to the area where everyone had gathered. He, rather rudely, scooped up a neglected tureen of fresh-smelling substance, which he suspected to be soup, and sat down vigorously, his eyes glinting gleefully as he prepared to dive head first into the meal without casting a second though at proper Shire table manners. Before doing so, he took one glance to both sides for good measure.

“Oh…umm..hello.” He said, laughing nervously as he realized where he was.

The hobbit, to his extreme displeasure, was sitting squarely between the woman from before, Roa, and the accusing man, Snaveling. Tobias’ mind quickly kicked itself very hard just because it was frustrated, though he tried to do no such thing physically. He decided it would be too suspicious to move away, so he reluctantly stayed put, his eyes darting swiftly from Roa to Snaveling, a maneuver continually followed by the disconcerting laughter, one of the gentlehobbit’s nervous defense mechanisms.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Please explain why and how exactly you deigned to set fire to my Inn?

At the sound of Aman's booming voice, Hawthorne took two steps back wishing that she was anywhere except standing here in front of the Innkeeper. Mistress Aman had even threatened to send a messanger back to Uncle Merry. Meriadoc's exploits as a teener and tweener were renowned throughout all of Buckland. He had done his share of mushroom filching, carousing with other young hobbits, and pulling silly tricks on all the Brandybuck clan. But, in all these tales, Hawthorne had never heard of Merry purposely setting fire to anything. If such an account reached her uncle's ear, Hawthorne thought she would die of shame.

Drawing herself up to her full three feet, Hawthorne began to explain things as clearly as she could. She thought it might help if she included all the details, "No, Mistress Aman. You don't understand. I didn't try to set the Inn on fire. It kind of happened all by itself."

"You see," Hawthorne noted, "I thought I'd make some bacon and eggs and some lovely biscuits. I wanted to show Ruby and Buttercup that I could whip up a fine breakfast even without them. The bacon and eggs were sizzling away, but someone forgot to start the peat fire in the oven so I couldn't bake my biscuits. And no self respecting hobbit would eat breakfast without a pile of nice, fluffy biscuits! I'd found a good recipe from the day before and I wanted to try it out. Actually there were two good recipes, but I looked them over and picked out the one that seemed to be most tasty. It seemed like a good idea at the time. So I started to fry up a batch of breakfast biscuits in a pot of hot oil. Then I turned my back for just a minute --- well, it may have been five minutes or so -- to step out to the gardens and pick some blossoms to decorate the breakfast tables. I had to decide whether the roses or pansies worked best. But, before I could decide, when I looked back at the kitchen, there were huge clouds of grey smoke swirling out the door. So please, Mistress Aman, protect me from the Shirriff. He wants to send me to jail."


Hawthorne gave a sharp glance over at Shirriff Fredgar, then stopped for a minute to catch her breath while Aman stared down incredulously at her. The young lass was about to be arrested and she was going on and on about biscuits and blossoms. Aman let out a terrible howl as Hawthorne opened her mouth to continue speaking, "Stop, stop! No more! You're saying this was all an accident, then? And that you only meant to cook breakfast? How do I know this is true?"

"That's right....," Hawthorne hung her head. "What I did was incredibly stupid and I deserve to be punished. If you really think I have to go to jail, I will. But I hope there's some other way I can serve my time. I know now I should never have tried to cook without someone showing me first. But I never intended to hurt the Inn. I only wanted Ruby and Buttercup to like me."

Aman snapped back, "Then why didn't you put the fire out, or get someone to help?"

"I tried to. I threw the water on the pan, but it only made the flames grow higher. I guess water wasn't the right thing to use...." Hawthorne made a long face. "And I did call for help. It was a dwarf, someone I'd never seen before. I told him to tell everyone."

Hawthorne quickly glanced around the courtyard and spied a dwarf standing in the food line. Hawthorne's face brightened, "There he is. That fellow. Talk to him. He knows I tried to get help and that the fire was a mistake......"

"Bring the dwarf over here," the Innkeeper commanded.

[Regin Hardhammer]

“Regin Hardhammer at your service, Mistress Aman,” said the dwarf politely.

Regin had been next in line for a steaming bowl of chicken soup and glass of water, when he was sharply pulled away by the Innkeeper. He was parched, half-starved, and extremely tired from combating the fire, so he was not at all pleased to wait longer for refreshment. How did I get myself into this mess? wondered Regin. I never worked so hard for a flagon in my life, and I haven’t even gotten it yet. I wonder if I ever will.

Although slightly miffed, Regin made sure to maintain civility with the Innkeeper, so as not to destroy the possibility of getting some ale.

“This Hobbit says that you can vouch for her that she did not purposely start the fire and that she called out for help,” the Innkeeper inquired.

“Yes, Mistress Aman. I swear on my Grandfather Balin’s grave that this innocent hobbit did not intentionally start the fire. I walked into the inn very early in the morn while the sun had not yet risen. The smell of burnt eggs permeated the air accompanied by large billows of puffy gray smoke. As I looked toward the kitchen I saw little Hawthorne here rush out to the common room with a frantic look on her face. I could tell that she was obviously shocked and extremely panicked. She seemed a tad dizzy headed and screamed, “Help! Help! The Inn’s on fire.” I valiantly alerted everyone to the fact that there was a fire and started the bucket brigade to put it out.”

“Now I won’t deny that Hawthorne needs to pull her head down from the clouds and plant her feet more firmly on the ground, but if that young lass was trying to burn down the inn then I’m Lord Aule. It just doesn’t make proper sense. Besides, it would be a shame to incarcerate such a bubblebrain. She could be much more useful working to clean up the awful mess she made, preferably in some place far away from the kitchen. The dainty rose couldn’t last one day in a cell!”

“Oh, there is one more thing I wanted to ask. Would you mind if I took a look at the stonework that abuts on the foundation? Some folk say that it is all right, but I have been working with masonry ever since I was a young lad and I have my doubts. My vast knowledge of metallurgy is much greater than my experience with stone, but I still know a thing or two. I thought I saw a few cracks and believe that a thorough inspection to assess the possible damage is in order.”

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling and Roa sat and waited their turn for the healers. When they had arrived at the small plot where the tall Elven woman was tending to the wounded, she had assessed them both with a glance, and deemed them only moderately wounded. She bid them seek shelter from the rain beneath a makeshift canopy that someone had constructed from a torn canvas tarpaulin, and Roa had been given a draught of something that the Elf woman had brewed in a small pot. Snaveling could see that Roa’s breathing became easier as she drank it down. As the Elf woman was moving away she paused and looked sharply at Snaveling, and he knew that she was recalling that he had been involved in the scene at which that bellowing Halfling – Tobias, he believed he was called, Tobias Trumpeter or something equally ridiculous – had taken up the accusing cry against Valthalion. For a moment it appeared as though the Elf was going to say something about this, but a man with a badly burned back moaned for her, and she moved off to give him care.

Roa turned to Snaveling, and began to ask if the Elf woman knew him, when there were two very sudden and, for Snaveling, very unwelcome arrivals. First, the very same rat-faced Halfling that he had been thinking about rushed over from the food line with a bowl of soup clutched in his hands. Without looking up, he dove beneath the shelter of their tent and sat down heavily right between them. So surprised were Roa and Snaveling that they did not know what to say or do, so they watched in amazed silence as the Halfling quickly gobbled down two huge mouthfuls of soup. It was only as he was coming up from the bowl for his third dive that he noticed them both staring at him. He looked back and forth between them, a tiny fragment of turnip clinging to his lower lip, and then let out a nervous laugh. Snaveling was on the point of speaking to him, when Valthalion suddenly appeared under the canvas. He pulled up short when he saw Tobias, but then – to the shock and amazement of everyone present – smiled at Snaveling and said, with something approximating good humour, “Hello. I’m glad to see that you are not too badly injured.”

Roa was struck speechless by all of this, so it was up to Snaveling to recover his wits first. Actually, it took a couple of tries, but he did manage to say, as civilly as he could, “Thank you for your concern, my lad, but I am not as feeble as some may think. I may look frail, but that is the result of the leagues I have travelled, not the years.” He paused for a fraction of time so small, that few would have noticed it before adding, “Sit down with us, my lad, your work today had earned you some rest.”

Snaveling’s response put Roa even further into shock, and set Valthalion back a step or two as well. The only person there who was not at a loss for what to do was Tobias, who had seized this opportunity to swallow the last of his soup. He belched loudly and settled backward onto the grass.

Valthalion greeted Roa, who was able to recover herself well enough to return it with one of the many overly-courteous phrases used by such people. The young man then sat down, somewhat closer to Roa than to Snaveling, but while he regarded the older man with caution, his gaze was more guarded and less overtly aggressive than he had used before. Snaveling looked about him at this odd group of folk and wondered what in this Middle Earth had conspired to bring him into it. It was as he was considering the odd quirks of fate that a thunderbolt clapped in his mind, and he realised what had happened. His vision swam and his heart pounded in his ears like a galloping horse: his luck had finally returned!

Forcing himself to remain calm, he turned to Valthalion and spoke in the measured tones of an experienced man of the world. “I understand, Val, that you I and have had our differences this day – I daresay you are as eager as I to put them to rest. Let us say that each of us has perhaps spoken too rashly of things that we only knew in pieces. For my part, I regret what I may have said about your role in setting the fires amongst the trees. Having seen how you sought to save people this day, including my lady Roa,” he nodded benevolently toward the Dunadan, “I have no doubt that only the noblest of intentions led you to run into that copse.”

Valthalion was wary in his response, but he thanked Snaveling for his words. Snaveling smiled and then continued. “The only other matter that stands between us is a slight purse of gold. I understand that having found such a thing on my person, given my general appearance and look of destitution, you would naturally assume that it was not mine. But as I have already told Roa, I came to this Shire seeking to buy some land of my own away beyond its southern borders: somewhere I could settle and live my own life. To that end, I sold all of my worldly possessions before I left the South, and that gold that you have taken from me,” here had to recover the use of his voice somewhat, “represents all that I have in the world.” Snaveling paused for a moment to gauge the effect of his words. Valthalion looked hostile, but wary. Roa was virtually unreadable, and he found her gaze unnerving, as though she could read his innermost thoughts. Tobias looked confused. Nobody spoke in response, and Snaveling let the moment stretch on for a time before springing his final trap. “As proof of what I say, I am glad to see that my business partner has come to join me,” and he looked directly at Tobias.

The surprise to all of them was, this time, like a physical slap, but Snaveling pressed ahead, eager now to see if he could make it clear to the Halfling what he was after. “I had arranged to meet this gentlehobbit here this morning. I was going to buy some kitchen utensils from him for the home that I will build on my new land – I believe you saw these being destroyed in the fire. Quite a pity! I assure you,” he said, giving Tobias a meaningful Look, “I intend to honour the terms of our contract; even though the items are lost, should I be able to convince this young Man to return my gold to me, I will happily pay you the sum we discussed.” Snaveling watched Tobias swallow once, then twice, and then nod slightly. He had agreed. Snaveling turned to Roa to make his final appeal. “This fine Halfling and I were then going to discuss the terms of my purchase and he was going to arrange for the sale of the land. In order to prove to him that I was serious, I showed him my purse yesterday, and he can vouch for that.”

Snaveling looked at Tobias hard. For a moment, the Halfling returned the gaze in silence, but there is no understanding like that which exists between thieves. Putting on his most honest face, Toby turned to Valthalion and Roa and said, “This is true. He did show me that purse. The gold is his.”

[Kransha]

At first, Toby was completely befuddled. The more sinister fellow was now talking about him, saying things that moved too fast for him. The hobbit just looked at the man as he spoke, his unclean lower jaw hanging open rudely and gawking at the man. It took him a few very long moments for him to figure out what was happening. The man was trying to reach out to him for some mutual benefit. He knew that this man, one Snaveling by name, was under suspicion from many others of falsely accusing Valthalion of arson and stealing gold for himself. Snaveling had witnessed Toby’s unfortunate incident with the singed utensils earlier. Spending years as a knave of sorts, Toby managed to recognize the “play along or we’re both dead men” look shooting from Snaveling’s narrowed eyes at him.

Collecting himself as ceremoniously as possible, the hobbit turned to the others.
“This is true. He did sell me that purse. The gold is his.” He said firmly.
After another long moment, without the slightest noise from anyone, he continued. He thought quickly, formulating all the fictional legal complications of such a deal.

“You see, this man has a small plot of land set aside for him in the Southfarthing of the Shire. I, owning a considerable amount of land around Longbottom, offered to sell him this land. I made sure to find out whether he had the funds required to back such an offer and, I assure you, the purse is his. I saw it and its contents yesterday afternoon.” He turned back towards Snaveling, returning the familiar look, “And sir, it would be far too rude of me to accept the entire amount promised without me fulfilling my end of the bargain. I plan to procure more of the accessories you requested for your home so that the deal will not be void of meaning. I can have them for you within a fortnight, before you’ve moved in at least.”

Tobias hid the mild rush of satisfaction that came from spinning lies and nodded. He turned briefly back to the other two, Roa and Valthalion, with a more pleasant grin. He looked at Valthalion then, changing his pleasantry to a look of false dissaproval.
“Oh yes, I believe that would also clear up the unfortunate incident earlier. Those items you saw in my posession are, in fact, mine, and not stolen. This man saw me with them yesterday when we met, as I was peddling my wares, so to speak. He can attest to my ownership of those and the bag of gold you 'found' on my person recently. That should clear up any confusion about that unfortunate happenstance."

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa looked from Snaveling to Tobias, incredulous. Of course, this did not show on her face- she could hide her own thoughts as easily as she read others. Snaveling was very good at hiding the truth. Even now, she barely detect the lie in his words. The hobbit was another story. Spinning lies may be something he did often, but Tobias was no match for the scrutiny with which Roa now regarded him. So, all was indeed a fraud. She cursed silently that she could not remember what had transpired in the cellar. Roa's head had cleared some since drinking the elven draught, but that time was still blank. She had barely enough for her suspicions, but she was sure of them now. Still, it would best to play along until she could fully recall everything.

"Well, then," Roa started sweetly, a gentle smile on her face, "it would appear all is settled." All is settled indeed, she thought, slowly forming her plan. Snaveling looked at her with carefully hidden leeriness, but Roa only grinned childish back. He smiled, or something to that effect, and said, "Just one thing remains unsettled my lady, and that is the matter of the purse." He nodded meaningfully at Valthalion, and the boy made to return the item with all speed. Before the purse was with in Snaveling's grasp, Roa placed her hand on Valthalion's out stretched arm, effectively stopping him with a light touch. You play the game well, she thought, but I am not finished with you. Not yet.

"You misunderstand me," Roa began, looking as innocent as a hobbit child, "While I fully intend to have the purse returned to you, we must first go to the shiriff to have everything cleared up. Of course, that can wait for a while yet," Snaveling's face registered a brief instant of shock and horror, and had Roa not been looking for it, she would have missed it all together. "I think Valthalion should hold on to it for now, until everything has been cleared, and then you can both go about your business." So her prey effectively caught, Roa had Valthalion hide the purse away again. Snaveling would not leave with out it, of this she was certain. He was a liar and a thief, but he was no coward, and he was very patient. She had spoke truly of his redeeming qualities, even if they were self-serving.

"As soon as we are all rested and revived, we can begin helping with the reconstruction of the Green Dragon." And I can find you out, she thought at Snaveling. Normally she would not have pursuedsuch a thing with such dedication, but something inside that part locked away told her this was about a personal insult.

[Galadel Vinorel]

Good, thought Galadel to herself, Keep him fooled for the moment, my kinswoman. The man is up to more than you have yet to even realize. The elf woman stood away from the small group taking caring of a man with a burned back, yet all the while she watched them out of the corner of her eye. As she did this she was probing each of their minds, as only the women of her family were able to do.

The man, Snaveling's, mind was filled with thoughts of gold, lies and deceit, yet beneath all of this she sensed a kind of longing and despair for something that he had lost long ago.

In the mind of the other hobbt, Galadel fond many confusing images and thoughts that were a mixture of good and evil. Lies were combined with thoughts of helping people. What a confusing life this hobbit must lead, Galadel thought.

The next mind that she probed was the young man's. Wthin his seh found courage, pride, adn many other good emotions. Yet, she found a lot of anger there as well, especially for one person in particular. Other than that the boy seemed to be allright.

Galadel then looked full at the woman sitting not far away. Her mind would be difficult to search without her knowing, yet Galadel had to know all to be able to judge the situation accordingly. Gathering her strength, Galadel genlty made her way inot the mind of her kinswoman. Partly through it, the elf met a hard, blank wall, which sent her reeling backwards. Sharply the ranger looked up into the Lothlorien elf's eyes. For a while they stared at one another.

"I apologize, my kinswoman, Galadel said to the other woman through her mind, "Yet, I must know what is in everyone's thoughts, so that I might judge what is truly going on here, for I do not trust these two hobbits at all."

Roa looked at the elf full on and then responded to her through her own mind, "I understand, my lady. I was just a bit taken back, for I was not expecting you ot search my mind. I would very much appreciate if you would discontinue your search, though i do not have anything to hide."

Galadel smiled at the ranger, and turned back to her work. In her mind she answered, "Yes, I truly understand, my lady, and I will stopping searching your mind, for I already know now that you do not lie about this matter. I will be with you all shortly."

After finishing treating the burn victim, the healer elf instructed one of her female aids to watch over the wounded for a few moments, while she would have some words with some "friends" of hers. Then Galadel walked calmly over to where Roa and the others were gathered. Bowing and smiling broadly to them all, she introduced herself, "Greetings, I am Galadel of Lothlorien, the Woodlen Realm. Would you all mind if I joined you all for a few minutes while I rest?"

Turning to the ranger woman as she stood above them all, Galadel said, "May I see your arm for a moment mam? I just need to see how it is healing." Bending down on the wet earth, the elf gently took the woman's arm in her hands. She then took a herb wrap that she was holding and placed it against the burned arm and began to wrap that up with some torn clothes. The ranger winced slightly as a stinging sensation shot through her arm, adn th eelf looked up at her quickly. "Does it sting?" she asked concered. Roa nodded, biting her tongue to keep back the tears. Gently Galadel rubbed the arm with the wrap on it, and the pain began to grow less. The elf started to sing a gentle song as she did this, one about the dawning of the world. The woman looked down at her, suprised, for she had heard that tune before.

"I know that tune," Roa said, startled, "I have heard King Elessar sing that before."

Galadel smiled up at her, "Yes," she said softly, barely pausing in her singing, "I taught him that song once, when he was a boy. It is good to hear that he still sings it." The ranger woman looked down at her in surprise, yet the elf's face was now hidden in shadow as she sang, remembering times when things were much different in Middle Earth, when evil still roamed the world, unhindered except for the Dunedain.

[Fool Of A Took]

Fredgar was really confused now. Hamthorne was innocent, was it really all an accident. Fredgar had hard to believe it, but it sounded true and the dwarf seemed trustworthy. He nodded and fumbled with his handcuffs and fasten them by his belt. All these explanaitions made him quiet confused. He took one step backwards and looked at Hawthorne. He could see that she was crying and could almost tell that she was afraid of getting into a cell.

"Well, if Aman agrees, I will not put you into a cell. But, you must get punnished anyway, thats the law." he sounded a little bit harsh and he turned his head to Aman.

Aman had crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at Hawthorne while she explained. What a mess, Fredgar thought. He took of his green hat and scratched himself in the head. Aman had sent a message to Mr Meriadoc. Fredgar was worried about his reaction, since he was Hamwthorne's uncle. He drew a deep sigh and looked down on his feets. This was the hardest case he had ever been involved in.

Thinking of a solution was hard. The dwarf didn't think that Hawthorne should be put into a cell, and actually Fredgar didn't want anyone to be in a cell. But sometimes he had to, it was his job. The dwarf squirmed and seemed very uncomfortable about the situation. Fredgar tried to avoid both Hawthornes and Amans gaze. He pulled himself together and looked up. "Well, we must reach a solution!" he said and tried to stand right up and not avoiding anyones gaze. "We can't just stand here! What do you think Aman? After all it's your Inn." Fredgar took another step backwards and looked up at Aman that still stood quiet and seemed to think of something. Hawthorne squirmed where she stood and Fredgar could tell it was of the reason that she was afraid of how her Uncle Meriadoc would react when he gets to know about this.

When Fredgar saw her fear in her eyes he just wished that he was someone else. Not the shirriff of Hobbiton, and most of all he didn't want to be here. He felt so sorry for the hobbit, yet he felt that she in some was guilty. He looked around himself and now noticed that Buttercup and Ruby, and a few other faces, had turned to them as Aman had starting yelling at Hawthorne. Fredgar thought this was a little bit embarrasing, but he tried to hide it. He blushed and stared at the ground.

[piosenniel]

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

This coming Thursday, late U.S. Pacific time, I will be moving the timeline in the Inn forward a week.

Most of the debris from the fire will be cleared away by then. Regin Hardhammer, the Dwarf, will be working on the stonework foundation. Master Meriadoc, having heard of Hawthorne’s unfortunate episode, will have sent a troop of builders from Brandy Hall along with two wagonloads of milled lumber for the rebuilding.

I’d like the posters, then, to spend about a week getting the Inn back into shape – and once done, a re-opening party can be organized.

Thanks!

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[Witch_Queen]

Cree looked at the inn. What once was fire was now just smoke. We haven't lost it yet. She placed her hand on Grimm. Her shoulder was beginning to stop bleeding. The pain was leaving her. She had more to worry about. "Grimm.." To her it seemed as if he was off in the distance. Cree felt sorry for what she had said to Aman. If only she had thought before she had spoke.

"Grimm, now what? It seems that we have nothing left. Yet we still have hope. That is hope that the inn will be saved and what isn't will be rebuilt." Cree thought her words were lost to the wind. Avalon looked down at her friend. Cree had been good to her for a long time. But she felt it was time for her to leave the Shire and go back to Eryn Lasgalen. She had always wanted to see what became of the "cursed elf."

[Angel_Queen]

Ravon looked around. "Indeed this has been a very interesting few days Lewis. I just wish it wouldn't had delt with this fire. But atleast its still not lost to us. I have so few happy memories and that inn was one of them." She turned her gaze to that of the inn. "Miss Aman wouldn't be at peace without that inn of hers."

Ravon knew she had to stop remembering the past. All the past had for her was trouble and heartbreak. Now I have Lewis with me. Thats the only good thing about my past.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman couldn't help smiling slightly at the grounded nature of the dwarf, despite the seriousness of the situation. She nodded slowly. "I thank you for you offer of help, Mister Hardhammer. And...did you mention Balin as being your grandfather?"

Regin nodded proudly, confirming this. Aman nodded again, as if to herself and looked back at Hawthorne. "You are right, master dwarf - she would not last a night in the cells. And I see no reason to disbelieve you; I very much doubt Miss Brandybuck here started the fire." She nodded stiffly at Hawthorne, then that slight smile returned. "And what can we say - she's a Brandybuck!"

Hawthorne looked almightily relieved, but still slightly abashed. "Pardon me, Miz Aman, but as far as I know, Uncle Merry never set fire to an Inn." Her smiled faded slightly and her worried look intensified slightly. "He's going to be furious with me..."

Aman shook her head. "Don't worry, the blame won't rest entirely on you when it comes to the ears of the Master of Buckland. I didn't say anything to Buttercup about telling him - but I will need his help to reconstruct the Inn."

Hawthorne looked almightily relieved, but Fredgar and Regin standing by didn't. The Shirrif shuffled slightly, fiddling with his handcuffs. "Beggin' yer pardon, Miz Aman, but...she does need to be punished. It's the Shire law, 'see."

Aman regarded him wearily for a second, then uncrossed her arms, running one hand through her hair. "Oh, Shirrif...look, what say we discuss this over a nice bowl of soup and some coffee, hmm? You too, Mr Hardhammer - from this account, 'sounds like you have been in this from the beginning, something which I can only be thankful for. I would be delighted if you would join us. Oh, well, after the horses have been put out, anyway."

[Fool Of A Took]

When the proposal for a meal and some coffee Fredgar felt how hungry he was. He had never eaten any breakfast. His stomach was almost screaming for food. He made a face of the hurt in his stomach, then nodded to Aman and smiled. "Yes, let's get the horses in first!" he said. He ran back to the ponies and where Toby stood and looked after them. He looked quiet bored. Fredgar started to lead the two ponies after Aman. They brought the horses and ponies safely to the pen. "Now how about that meal and warm coffee?" Fredgar said with a grin to the others. He was starving. They sat down on the lawn and Fredgar leaned back and stretched out his tired legs. He thought that he might needed to stay here for a while, and he thought that he might had to tell his wife that he would be away. He just shrugged his shoulders and thought that he could take care of that later.

They all got served with a bowl of stew and it smelled wonderful. Fredgar smelled at it and closed his eyes of enjoyment. His thoughts fell back to his wife, Rosalinda, back home in Hobbiton. She used to cook a lovely stew to him at the weekends. In his daydream he could almost feel the taste. The dwarf pushed him with his shoulder and Fredgar opened his eyes and instantly came back to the reality. The dwarf grinned and said "Shouldn't you eat, eh?" Fredgar hummed and took up his spoon. The stew tasted wonderful. And he felt the hunger slowly slipp away as he ate more. He closed his eyes and made a humming sound of joy.

"About the punnishment..." Fredgar began slowly but then paused. "As I said, it's the law, and it would be wrong of me if I just would let this pass." Fredgar looked down at his stew that now was getting colder. Hawthorne seemed troubled of him bringing up that subject again. He really didn't like to talk about it. But he was afraid of getting into trouble if he would let this pass. And the accident was to big for anyone to miss it. "It's the law..." he slowly continued. The dwarf cleared his throat but didn't say anything. To not look bothered about the subject, Fredgar took a sip of his warm coffee. Hawthorne squirmed where she sat and looked worried around here self. He cheeks slightly turned into red in embarresment and Fredgar could feel how he blushed.

The dwarf finally broke the silence and said "Well, as I see it, this young lass is totally innocent." He crossed his arms with a resolute look. Fredgar squirmed and said "Yet it's the law!" He crossed his arms too and tried to look resolute. "Lets see what Aman has to say about this?" the dwarf replied and turned to Aman.

[WarBringer]

Valthalion was shocked by the turn of events. Snaveling, man of the south, and this Tobias, were both innocent. The forks, and the money purse, were all part of a business deal. Another lesson learned along the path of life, thought Valthalion. Too often throughout his young life he had doubted the trustworthy. He had been through too much hardship to have much faith in people. An attack by orcs four years before Sauron was defeated had scattered his family's band of dunedain, which is father lead. Abandoned in a forest in the realm of Arnor, Valthalion was left to fend for himslef at an early age. He had a dim outlook on the world, and trusts only one person, Roa. She had believed in him, and she made sound desicions. Suddenly, a shadow clouded his thoughts. Tobias is lying..., thought Valthalion. Snaveling seemed as though he was telling the truth, as Valthalion could detct no lie in his eyes. But Tobias' eyes gave him away. He was nervous, and a terrible liar. Still, he could not speak of his discovery yet. Best to wait and see how things unfold..., thought Valthalion.

Yet Valthalion believed that the thought of Tobias' lying had not come from his mind. He sensed a presense, reading his thoughts. Suddenly, a voice spoke to him. "I am Galadel, the elvish healer you have seen near the Inn. Do not despair over your shock. You are akin to Roa, and indeed distantly to myself, being of the Dunedain. Yet you have not come fully to manhood yet, and some time is before you when at last you will have the strength and will to read others. You are rash, perhaps to your detriment, but this will pass. You will be great among your folk, should you open yourself to others. You cannot forever shut out those who wish to be let in. Do not forget your past, but do not live in it." With that, the voice vanished, leaving Valthalion in a state of awe and shock. Shaking his head, he remembered what was happening, and decided to wait and think before acting. Roa must also have noticed the look on his face and guessed what had happened. She gave him a sharp look, and he turned to Snaveling and asked, "From Where do you come, Snaveling?"

[Linnahiril Tinnufinwen]

"Asphodel! Asphodel!" came a voice suddenly. Asphodel quickly stood up and looked around. She knew that voice.

"Asphodel?" it said again, and in another moment the owner of the voice came around the bend and towards the Dragon, only bothering to shed a fleeting glance at the ruined Inn before he took Asphodel in a tight embrace. For her part, Asphodel had never been so happy to see her father.

"I'm such a foolish Hobbit!" said Halfred Hamfast. "I should never have left you here. Imagine my horror when I heard from your aunt that the Inn had caught on fire! Your mother and sisters are worried sick. I have orders to bring you home immediately."

From his dry clothes and hair, Asphodel could tell that her father had only started his journey after the rain fall. He probably had not heard the news until then, which would explain why he had been late in fetching her.

Letting go of his daughter, Halfred said, "But Asphodel, you're soaking wet! Here," he took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, "keep warm. It is a mighty cold and windy day today." After another moment, he took her hand again and said, "I'm glad you're safe." Asphodel was glad too, but she was too tired to say so.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fury with the Halfling for his blundering, awestruck horror at Roa’s display of ruthless cunning, and a deep-seated terror – like a mouse in eagle’s talons – at the Elven woman’s presence, all fought for possession of Snaveling’s spirit. The purse of gold had been within a finger’s breadth of his hand. The young fool Valthalion had handed it over without hesitation, having failed entirely to see the lie in Snaveling’s mind…but Roa had prevented it. Snaveling knew, without even having to look her in the face, that she had seen through his performance. And now there was this Elvish woman, reaching into their minds – oh yes, he had felt her presence, but unlike Roa he had known better than to show it. He had never met one of the Elder race, but he was familiar enough with their tricks. Snaveling’s people had long told the stories of the Elves from over the Sea, and of the Men of the West who had allied with them in the Dark Years to combat Sauron – and to seize all the land East of the Sea from those who had held it from the dawn of time.

His experience of Elves was not wholly through story and song, though. Several years ago he had stumbled across a large party of the folk, heading through the wild toward the seacoast where, if the tales were true, they were bound for the ships that would take them from Middle Earth. He had tracked them for days – hoping to pilfer something of value from them before they departed forever – and even though they could sense his presence behind them, ever had he eluded their hunters. A lifetime spent tracking and hunting game had made him as crafty a woodsman as any among Men; only the Dunedain Rangers surpassed him in his ability to track and hide in the wooded places of the earth. But even they could not surpass his skill with trap and line.

His mind was whirling with dismay at the loss of his gold – again! – and anger at Tobias’ blundering attempt to lie, when of all the things that could have happened, the most surprising did. Valthalion addressed him in terms of kindness, asking him of his homeland. So shocked was Snaveling by the frankness of the request, that before he could think of anything else to say the truth slipped from his lips. “My land lies at the western end of the White Mountains, between them and the Sea. We are not of Gondor,” he said, seeing Roa’s look of surprise, “but are free Men who take their living from the land beyond the control of the King at Minas Tirith.”

Galadel said, “So you are one of the Dunlendings.”

“No,” Snaveling said. This time, the truth came out of him in a different manner, as though it were being drawn forth by the Elven woman herself. He struggled against it, but it was useless, and he continued, “We are not of the Dunlendings. Some amongst my people say that we are the final descendants of the Numenoreans who remained loyal to the King during the rebellion of Elendil and his heirs.”

Galadel and Roa both gasped and looked at him with horror. The pull of the Elven woman was snapped. Tobias and Valthalion looked at each other in ignorance, not knowing why this information should have caused such a reaction. Roa spoke first, “Then you are one of the Black Numenoreans!”

“My ancestors may have been,” Snaveling replied. That was the great danger of the truth, once it had been uttered, it could never be taken back, and he was left only to explain it away. “But it has been long years since then, and those Men have become mixed with the lesser folk who live amongst the bays and vales of that land.”

Roa and Galadel lapsed into silence but Snaveling could tell that the subject was not over, not for them. Once more he felt the pressure of Galadel’s mind upon his own, but he hid his thoughts where she could not see them. Instead, he focused on the image of the hunting lodge that he would build. It would have four rooms – no, wait, it was not four it was five – five rooms, and there would be a porch out the back where he could sit and…and do what? Ah yes, smoke – smoke his pipe of an evening. And there would be somebody else there as well…but who was she…and what was her purpose…?

Snaveling became frantic. What was happening? Why could he not remember? Why could he not see it anymore? For some reason his mind went back to the cellar, when he had abandoned Roa to the flames, and he recalled her words as he fled: “A curse upon you and all your kin…”

[Kransha]

After considering all his surroundings and everything he’d mustered up the courage to say, Toby felt like he had a strange but stable command of what was going on. He finally had some idea of what he’d gotten himself into and felt a surge of confidence about his foul doings. All these things could be engineered to his advantage, with the help of a certain roguish human. Though Toby didn’t consider himself a true thief, he had to admit it was a pursuit of his which he shared with this man. The two of them would be able to get out of this uncomfortable tight noose with ease.

Suddenly a rather disconcerting thought crossed his mind as he looked at the faces of the others around him. They looked very skeptical, to Tobias’ great dismay. Toby knew he wasn’t the best liar and the surprise of Snaveling’s sprung ploy had caught him too off guard to fib convincingly. ‘They know.’ he thought ruefully, 'No matter, though. Even if they’ve seen through my lie, they can’t prove a thing. Besides, I’ve got family to back up my word, while all they have are their own petty beliefs and accusations. They have nothing that can connect me to this, no matter what they think they know. If they take this to the Shirriff, they're just assuring they're loss of the argument.’

There was that elf again; another displeased look on Toby’s face received her. She was the fair maid who’s nearly captured Toby’s gaze before the fire. He pretended to ignore her, though his narrowed eyes kept casting stray glances in her direction. Then the others began a discourse which Toby Hornblower couldn’t follow. Something about Numenoreans and Dunlendings and talk of lineage that Toby didn’t care to hear. The two females seemed taken aback when Snaveling said something. Bewildered but unperturbed, Toby shot a glance at Valthalion, who looked befuddled by the statement as well. After more uneasy dialogue from those three, silence returned. Toby, talking to no one in particular, spoke up.

“Oh yes, that’s all fine.” Said the gentlehobbit with a sickening amount of polite conservativeness in his icy voice, trying to maintain his obvious trickery as truth, “I’m glad we got that settled. Anyway, Shirriff Hornblower is my cousin and I’m suppose he could find the time to oversee the conclusion of this weary endeavor eventually if any of you so wished. Whenever this madness ends, you can get this sorted out with him or some other authority.” He gave a semi-unconscious nod towards Snaveling but concealed it quickly, “Then I can go through with my business deal and this whole ordeal can be forgotten.”

[Roa_Aoife]

Roa's was so taken aback by Snaveling's confession, she could not even hide her surprise. A black Numenorean! That certainly explained the distaste she felt around him. The elven woman, Galadel, also showed her shock. This was indeed a strange turn of events. She stared at the man, and Roa knew she was searching his mind. Something withn stirred and she had a sudden memory of entering the cellar with Snaveling. She had pulled him along, as if he was unwilling. Roa remembered a desire to keep him close. Why? she wondered. Snaveling looked increasingly uncomfortable, and Galadel looked increasingly confused. Her head was beginning to ache again, and out of the back of her mind a voice that sounded like her own cried words she could not distingiush.

So distracted was she by her visions she could barely here the voice of the young hobbit as he explained something about the shirriff. Aparently annoyed at being ignored, he poked her in the arm. The burned arm.

Roa howled as she quickly climbed back to her feet, and dragged the hobbit to his. She fixed him with such a glare that he seemed to shrivel. Valthalion was instantly on his feet. Snaveling looked quite terrified, though Roa wondered if it was truly her or still the loss of his gold. Galadel was the calmest.

"Alright, that's enough," she declared. "Valthalion, sit down; Roa will be fine. Roa come here." Gingerly Roa held out her arm. "Hmmm... it is not a serious burn, but the skin is still quite tender. Allow me to prepare a salve." With in a few moments, the medicine was applied, and Roa's arm was greatly relieved. Tobias looked greatly contrite, and apologized profusely before Roa bade him sit down. Valthalion looked slightly worried, but said nothing, for which Roa was greatly relieved. Galadel sat down again, and began wrapping the bad arm. Snaveling had regained the calm look of before, but a strange glint akin to horror had filled his face. Roa knew it was not over her. He had had plenty of time to worry about that. She brushed it off as worry about the gold.

"Forgive, master hobbit, you startled me." Roa turned to Tobias, who jumped at the sound of her voice. Galadel's mind entered hers in question- it was rare that a Ranger was startled, and certainly never by a hobbit. But Roa had no answers. The vision had faded, and Roa felt much as Snaveling must have felt when Roa had Valthalion keep the gold. So close... Yet, she chose instead to use it as a sign of hope. Soon, very soon, her memory would return.

[Regin Hardhammer]

Suddenly, the dwarf was struck by a brilliant idea that would amend this dilemma. He cut off Aman in mid sentence, since what he had to say obviously was much more important.

“Although I maintain that Hawthorne is completely innocent, I believe that I may humbly offer a solution to this quandary. All of us can agree she did not intentionally burn down the Inn and that she is extremely remorseful for the damage that she caused. But, as you say Master Shirriff, shire law requires that she be punished for her actions. Putting her in prison is entirely out of the question, both because it seems too harsh a punishment and she could never survive a night in a cell, being the fragile young flighty thing that she is.”

“Therefore, I suggest that we employ an alternate means of reprimand, one that would be more appropriate for the situation. When one of our young dwarves steps out of line, we make them carry very heavy stones from the quarries to the builders’ workshops to pay off their debt. I propose a similar method of punishment for Hawthorne. Although she may not be able to lift heavy stones, she can help us work on the reconstruction of the Inn. I have surveyed the foundation of the Inn and found it to be irreparably damaged. We must demolish all of the inn that remains and rebuild from the ground up, starting with the foundation. Hawthorne can serve her punishment with mandatory service in the rebuilding effort. Perhaps she could use her pony and wagon to carry back stones that other stronger hands have gathered."

" What good would Hawthorne be to anyone sitting in prison? This way the lass can help clean up the mess she made and make herself useful. Besides, it will be a while before the Inn will be rebuilt and we can use all the help we can get, even that of bubble brained hobbits.”

With that the Dwarf chugged down his stew straight from the bowl, too hurried to use a spoon. He had not eaten for quite some time and felt as if he could consume an ox. The stew scalded the back of his mouth slightly, but it was exceptionally good. Aman and the Shirriff stared at him askance as the last drops of steaming broth went trickling down his throat.

“What are you staring at? I’m hungry! I haven’t had a proper meal in three days nor any strong ale. I don’t suppose you savaged any ale from the Inn, did you? Anyway what do either of you think of my brilliant idea?”