The Green Dragon Inn #11 - The Last Chapter

[Elora]

It was not long at until their feet found familiar paths and Uien and Falowik were walking calmly towards the stables that had once been her home. She cast a glance up at the hay doors, high over the stable's main wide doors and smiled faintly. It was from there that she had watched over Falowik's sleep, pondering the strange restlessness that seemed to accompany her thoughts of him then. At least, it had seemed to be restlessness. Uien knew better now.

Twilight would be upon them soon. Indeed, they walked into it. That time, suspended twixt day and night, was as magical now for Uien as ever it had been. Moreso now that she shared it with another. Her hand stole lightly around Falowik's arm and she pulled closer as they walked. There was a silence between them that was neither heavy nor awkward. After the bustle of the inn, it was a pleasant change. Neither of the pair had spent a great deal of time in so much company and Uien had nearly been overwhelmed by the waxing demand for beer, ale, wine and so on. Had it not been for Aman, she would have been lost in a maze of empty tankards.

Falowik had scooped her free just in the nick of time. The passed the well and made for the day pastures that Uien had brought the stable's horses to each morning and fetched them back from each evening. A breeze drifted softly over them, through her hair. The last rays of the day were caught in Falowik's hair. She watched them glimmer gold and bright nearby, his head gilded by the glorious sun.

"Do you remember the stream and lake, Fair One, Falowik asked after a time. She turned her face up to his, memory bright in her gaze. "I do, but that is not to say that I would not welcome the sight of them again with you." She smiled into his eyes and ran her fingers gently through his hair, chasing sunlight. Not long now and the stars would cast aside their veils. Uien fell silent, filled with wondering and a sudden trepidation that flittered like a moth on the edge of her otherwise undimmed spirit. How could she not feel as though she shone herself, filled with thought of her Laurëatan?

When the Twilight came and the green earth for a moment stilled before venturing into night, so too would come to Falowik what she had known for some time now. She would tell him. All she could do was hope the telling would not be the undoing of what they had both endured so much for. Surely it would not, she mused, as she drifted in his cornflower gaze. But, even if it did, her heart was given and she could not take it back. In the giving lay the truth of her future - a mortal life. Uien took a deep breath and attempted to prepare within herself the words that Twilight would wait for. How did one say that one had chosen death and love over eternal life and frozen loneliness? Falowik likely guessed at what stole through her and pulled Uien a little closer in reassurance. Her uncertainty lost it's power as he did so, and her thoughts were unbound. Yes, she would tell him the truth beneath the mantle of Twilight. It seemed right to Uien that it be so, the man she loved told of her choice in the very time that the world seemed as wondrous as what turned within her heart and mind and sent her spirit soaring so.

"Heavy thoughts," Falowik said softly. The breeze caught in Uien's hair and skirts, pushing both to one side but not pushing aside her smile. "But glad ones, my love," she said with some mysteriousness, "Glad ones."

[nynnd1]

“I am indeed less agitated now and rested by the sleep.” Bredan said staring at the beauty of Lady Aman.
“I have also had time to think about matters that are, or were troubling my mind”, Bredan looked at Aman, hoping that her eyes may give him a clue to what she felt and what he should say next, but her eyes just looked into his, there was no trace of what she was thinking, she was just listening.

He glanced around the room. Seeing if any one was listening or could interrupt, like Snaveling had the last time.

“Lady Aman I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship, and I wondered if there is any chance that we shall get closer acquainted, or shall we stay the same or shall we drift far apart becoming less than friends or even saying hello to each other.” Bredan found it hard to look directly at the Lady at that moment and instead looked around the inn. People were laughing and being merry, catching up with each other, it then again hit Bredan what an extraordinary place the Shire was, there were Hobbits, Dwarves and Elves all chatting to each other.

Bredan noticed one Elf who was in conversation with a Hobbit but seemed to be more interested in Lady Aman and Bredan’s conversation. Bredan knew there was a chance that they would again be interrupted.

“I just needed to know my Lady, how do you feel?”

Bredan decided to find out how Aman felt before asking to borrow a horse and telling her that he was going to find the outlaw’s who stole his stuff.

[Sirithheruwen]

Twylight thought Iadarion seemed all right, but she wasn't sure. She might have excused herself then and there if Iadarion had not started to call for another ale. She grabbed his arm firmly with long slender fingers and pushed him gently back into his seat. He shrugged his shoulders, unperturbed, and accepted the tea Bingo had brought back from the counter with him.

Twylight glanced over at Lily and saw that she shared the look of disgust that all the other hobbits in the Inn looked upon Iadarion with. Did Lily know Iadarion? "What are you?" Twylight looked over at Posco, somewhat surprised at this abrupt outburst. She didn't think that he had ever strung more than three words together while in her prescence. "I do mean, you are one of the Big Folk, that much is obvious, but are you a Man or are you... are you an Elf?" He turned a magnificent shade of red, and swiveled to face Iadarion. "And what race are you?" He turned to Lily. "And what race are you?" He turned to Marcho. "And what race are you?" He gazed wide-eyed in horror at his blunder. Sliding farther down in his seat, nothing more of him could be seen above his nose, all of which was now a magnificent shade of magenta.

Marcho stood. "Interesting and very good questions," he said. "If we are all to become friends perhaps we might as well know. As you can see Bingo, Posco, and I are Hobbits. What are you? Now excuse me." Twylight followed him surreptitiously with her eyes. When he reached the counter, he burst into gales of laughter. Twylight was shaking with fury now as she saw tears of mirth stream down his cheeks. She had turned a shade of red much akin to Posco's, and she fought to keep her hand steady as she wrote; in the backround Iadarion was informing them all about his father and how he was the son of the river. It was, as she would have known if she was listening at the time, the same speech he had treated her to when they first met.

I am indeed of the race of men. But your question is justified, as my clothes are of Elvish make. You see, I lived in Rivendell for some time before I took to traveling.

She indicated the shimmery material of her leggings and tunic, and the midnight-blue cloak hanging over the back of her chair. Marcho had not come back yet, but she could no longer see him, for he had disappeared behind a dark and rugged stranger that was sitting at the bar. She had not seen him before, so she supposed he had just come in. But she gave no more thought to the man, for she turned to listen to Lily's response to Posco's flustered question.

[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman felt an air of slight hopelessness settle on her as she realised she probably couldn't respond without either lying or causing offence. And Aman had never particularly liked lying...

"I'm afraid I cannot return your affections, Bredan," she blurted out. "My heart...belongs to another."

There was an awkward silence between the pair of them. Aman felt quite as startled as Bredan's face suggested he was. So now both of them were rather in a dilemma: the Gondorian had poured out his feelings and been put down, and Aman had to work out who exactly this mystery lover of hers was.

The fact there wasn't one simply made things a little more complicated at her end.

Bredan's face hardened suddenly and Aman saw his hand move towards his sword as his eyes darkened and he turned to scan the Common Room stormily. "Who? Who is this man who holds your heart? I will..." With horror, Aman saw his eyes settle on Eodwine, who still sat in at the crowded table by the fire, his eyes shining as he told his stories from far and wide.

"No!" Aman dived hastily forward, grabbing Bredan's arm, then hoping it would come across as a gently placatory hand. A brawl was all she needed really, . "I mean...no, Bredan, please - he is not here."

Oh, isn't he? Well, that's a start, I suppose...at least you won't have to start professing undying love to Eodwine, the poor man would probably be a little confused, to say the least...

"Oh? Then who is he, this....man?" Bredan spat, his hand still on his belt, but apparently distracted by Aman's hand. Suddenly realisation seemed to dawn on his face and a sort of resignation settled there. "It is he, isn't it?"

"...He?" Aman replied gently, genuinely mystified.

"This...Snaveling character, the one who left yesterday," Bredan replied, sighing as he turned towards the bar again, apparently calmer now. He rested his hand upon Aman's, then looked up at her, deep brown eyes looking into her own. "But he has gone, Aman, and while he has gone...?" he let the comment turn into a question and gave a small, cheeky grin, winking. Aman's eyebrows shot up and she laughed quietly, unable to help herself, then shook her head, looking down, as if it was a regretfu gesture.

"I'm sorry, Bredan," she replied softly. The Gondorian's eyes remained on hers, then he sighed again and removed his hand, looking away around the room once more.

"I suspected as much, Aman," he admitted, sadly, then sighed again. Aman felt slightly guilty at lying - but not so much that she would take it back. Maybe more could have happened as it could with anyone, but...I don't know this man...I know, in fact, remarkably little, so I do not regret what is not a lie.

"If...if you'll excuse me, Master Bredan," she replied, in an attempt to escape the awkward situation. Slipping around the bar, she hurried outside before he could gather himself and protest, heading for the stables where she had seen Uien slip away to - maybe a less confusing situation may await there...

[Firefoot]

Lily's heart went out to Posco as he asked his flustered question. She had realized that he was shy almost from the moment she had seen him, but he seemed rather overwhelmed. She didn't think much of it when Marcho got up and walked over behind the counter, and almost forgot about it listening to Iadarion's strange answer. Lily decided that not only was he a drunkard, but he was also quite mad. She was trying her hardest not to stare at him strangely and with some disgust.

She leaned over to read Twylight's parchment, for she herself had been rather curious as to whether she was Elf or Man. She got no further than the first sentence before she heard the sound of laughter. It was coming from where Marcho had gone, and though she didn't think it was him, she planned to go check.

She looked at Posco closely. "Well, I am a hobbit from Bree," she said softly, hoping to soothe the shy hobbit a bit. "Now if you would excuse me for a moment," she said, standing up. She walked over to where whe had watched Marcho go, and found him behind the bar laughing so hard he was coughing. Suddenly Lily's normally calm temper burst.

"I don't know what kind of hobbit you are," she said, her voice no less fierce or angry for its softness, "that you would leave your friend like that. Even I could see that he is quite shy and, judging by his question, overwhelmed by all the people here. You are his friend; I would think that instead of coming over here to laugh at him, you would try to calm him down." Lily paused for breath, but when she saw Marcho's mouth open to speak, she went right on. "I don't want to hear your excuses, because frankly, I can't see any that would excuse you. All I have to say is that coming over here and laughing is about the worst thing you could have done for your friend." Lily turned on her heel and walked away from the stunned hobbit. She returned to the group and sat down, forcing herself to smile for their sakes.

[Faragorn]

Faragorn sat at his cherry wood table still after a many hours waiting. Soon, he knew, some man or woman would find him sitting in the far southwest corner of the Inn. As he watched others pass through the doors he noticed that it had already become late afternoon. The howling wind picked up and a branch from a maple tree began abrading against one of the thick glass panes.

As he observed the Inn he noticed a man that was apparently finding him to his interest, but looked away, not to let the stranger find that he too was examining him. Soon later he found himself once more staring at the man as he watched a woman approach him. She had a large sized cup that she handed to him with great ease. Apparently they had already been acquainted. They spoke little, but over the shouting and gathering in the old inn he found himself not being able to hear a word.

Faragorn had thought for a moment that their eyes met. Realizing this he turned his head and looked no more. His head went back into the direction towards the door. He once more waited…

[Kitanna]

Peony left Jean not long after Falowik had left them. She spent some time talking to Deva who had ulimately gone for a nap. Lazy dwarf. She kept thinking over and over to herself.

Now a man sitting in the corner, Faragorn. He looked rather lonely, or possibly like he was waiting for someone. Either way Peony approached with her usual smile on her face. "Good evening sir. You looked as though you needed someone to talk to just sitting here all by yourself. Would you like some company?"

[Nurumaiel]

Marcho's face turned red with rage and he scowled at Lily's back before whirling back to the counter. He saw that Ruby stood not too far away, eyeing him carefully and waiting for his reaction. He took three deep breaths and then muttered to her, his voice filled with restrained anger, "Did you hear what she said to me?"

"Yes," said Ruby, "and I apologize for hearing, as perhaps it might be considered eavesdropping. I do think she's right, you know."

"It's different because Posco is my little cousin."

"How is it different because he's your little cousin? Isn't he still your friend, and don't you still want to help him? In fact you should feel more obligated to help him because he's your relative."

Marcho's whole form was trembling with rage but he restrained himself and waved Ruby away. "Go back to the table where that Falco is," he said. "I think you're needed more there than you are here. And besides, you might find them more of pleasant company that I, a grouchy, mean old hobbit." He felt a sudden and strange sadness come over him as he remembered the way he had studied Bingo before, and how the latter always looked at everyone kindly while he was exactly that... a grouchy, mean old hobbit. He hoped his thoughts did not show on his face. He would not want Ruby to notice. She did not stay any longer but went back to Falco's table. Marcho sat in a chair by the counter and buried himself in his own anger and resentment.

Posco was immensely relieved that no one had been angry at him for his questions, and he straightened about the slightest bit. He felt comforted by Lily's presence, the presence of another hobbit who spoke kindly to him and tried to comfort him. As he looked into her smiling face he suddenly thought that she was rather pretty like most hobbit lasses, and he become suddenly aware of his dishevelled hair, his torn clothes, and his muddy face. He cast a glance towards Blanco, smooth and sociable and very neat and tidy, listening with wide eyes to the tales of the adventurers at the other table. He began feeling miserable again and stared weakly at Lily, muttering in a voice barely audible, "You must think me an awful sight."

[Faragorn]

Faragorn looked up to see a woman standing there, next to the table. She offered him some company. He accepted with his eyes still wandering around to see if anyone was watching. “I can only speak for a while for I have places to see, places to discover, and most of all I have to finish my brandy.”

With that said he called the waitress over and asked for another brandy. He pulled out a chair and invited her to sit down with him. Maybe he would make a new friend.

[Kitanna]

"Finishing your brandy eh? I can see how that would take precedence over other things." Peony smiled and took the seat Faragorn had offered to her. "Exploring you say? Very interesting. Now tell me then are you exploring because you want to or is it your job of sorts?"

She stopped, remembering her manners. "But before I allow you to answer that I believe introductions are in order." She extended a hand. "Peony Minyatur and if I can have the pleasure of knowing your name, sir?"

[Sirithheruwen]

Lily had left the table after soothing Posco. She disappeared behind the rugged stranger Twylight expected was hiding Marcho. She emerged soon afterwards, red and shaking with anger the way Twylight had been just moments before. She figured some confrontation had happened, and despite the little voice in her head telling her to ask, she did not.

Turning an eye on Posco, she was amused to see him trying to flatten his hair (though all in vain). His eye was on Lily, and he was blushing. "You must think me an awful sight," he whispered just loud enough for the table to hear when they strained their ears just a little bit. Iadarion opened his mouth to speak, but Twylight grabbed his arm and tilted her head slightly in Lily's direction. He looked from Lily to Posco with his mouth still wide open when a look of understanding lit up his features. He winked slightly in Twylight's direction, and she let go of his arm as if it were on fire.

[Faragorn]

Faragorn extended his right hand to Peony. “Faragorn at your service. I guess I am a stranger here. It’ll take some getting used to.” He waited a moment to recall the question Pheony had asked. “Now you asked of my business in exploring – Well, I guess you could call it just a hobby, or maybe you’d rather call it an interest. I do not get paid, nor am I hired. My explorations are simply done of free will. Now that you know a little about me I’d like to know some more of you.”

He quickly grasped his brandy mug and took one large gulp. His glass was now nearly half-empty with a small ring of water below it from where it had been sitting. Faragorn took a quick glance into the center of the room to find a group of about five whispering amongst themselves. Only one girl was not speaking at the time. It appeared as though she had to let go of a man’s arm quickly, as if his arm had caught ablaze.

[Firefoot]

Lily noticed Posco looking at her. "You must think me an awful sight," he mumbled. Lily looked at him. His clothes were slightly torn and muddy, and his hair was mussed, but that wasn't what Lily saw. Lily saw a sweet but very shy hobbit lad who, if he was cleaned up a bit, might actually look quite nice. She could tell that he wasn't very self-confident, and that he was getting depressed again. She still couldn't believe how Marcho had treated him, whether to his face or not. It certainly wasn't what Posco needed. Watching Posco, Lily completely missed the interchange between Twylight and Iadarion.

Lily smiled at him. "No, not at all," Lily replied. "You've been travelling in the rain today; no wonder you're a bit muddy." Lily thought she saw a hint of a smile on Posco's face, and she wished he would smile more often. I bet he's actually quite nice, Lily thought. Just a little shy. She tried to think of something that he would feel comfortable talking about as she subconsciously straightened her light blue dress.

"Where are you travelling?" she asked. "Are you from around here?"

[Kitanna]

"There is really nothing much to say of myself. I am on an errand with my friend. We have come from Minas Tirith." Peony watched as Faragorn took a large gulp from his brandy.

"And you? Where do you hail from?" Peony looked quickly around the inn for a moment. Just to see what was happening around her. Not really anything she would bother with.

[Sarin Mithrilanger]

Sarin watched the two strangers carefully as he spoke to Alwin. He could not explain as to why he felt it but something was pulling his attention to them. He shrugged it off as simply some sort of fascination with the mysterious things in the world. "Well it seems as though you plan for quite an adventure indeed, Alwin. I don't play any instruments but I enjoy singing."

Sarin set down his pipe, took a long drink from his ale, cleared his throat and began to sing as the old dwarves do.

In mountain holds and kings of gold,
They dig their way through the old.
Through goblin hordes and evil bold,
Standing tall the old Dwarves hold.
None shall break their their lines of old,
They will stay till their bones lay.
So goes the way of the brave Dwarves old.

Sarin wiped away tears that had started to swell and cleared his throat once more. "I like the Elves well enough, and I have heard the hold great knowledge. Perhaps I might find some adventure by traveling with you to Rivendell. Besides you seem to be good company."

[Faragorn]

Faragorn thought of a brief, yet simple way of answering Peony’s question. “Honestly I do not know for I have traveled for two years now. I have ventured through all Middle-Earth, seeking for a life in which I can live in peace.” He knew that was a very questionable statement he made, but he couldn’t think of a better way to put it.

“If you do not mind my curiosity, what type of errand are you on with your friend? It must be important coming all the way from Minas Tirith.” Faragorn asked. The waitress returned with Peony’s brandy and placed it in front of her. Faragorn took another gulp of his.

As time went by the scratching sound of branches from the maple tree began to become annoying. Soon Faragorn would have to move to the opposite side of the room to avoid listening to the noise any longer, but first he decided, he should listen to Peony before exiting the conversation.

[Kitanna]

"My friend was running an errand for my father in Bree. I just came along as company. Being stuck at home is such a bore to me." Peony took a sip of brandy, not really her favorite drink, but it would do.

Faragorn seemed annoyed by branches scratching around outside. Peony didn't blame him, it was getting rather annoying, but she could stand it. "Where are you planning to head after here?"

[Nurumaiel]

"I'm from Buckland," said Posco, his voice very quiet but a hint of a smile upon his face. "My twin brother Blanco and I are here visiting our aunt... Marcho and Bingo came with us." He blushed when he realized how much he had said but spoke once again, asking, "Where are you from?" Oaf! She had already said she was from Bree. "I mean, what are you doing in Bywater?"

Blanco, standing in the crowd gathered about Falco's table, had put in throughout the story 'oohs' and 'aahs' where he thought appropriate. After all, that was what one was supposed to do when one was listening to a tale. He heard the dwarf singing his song, turned, applauded loudly, and directed his attention back to Falco. He struggled with his manners and tried not to stare at Ruby... he had never seen a lass make eyes so. Falco seemed to enjoy it, too. Hobbits could be just as odd as Big Folk sometimes.

Back at the other table Bingo turned his fair face to Toby and smiled, saying, "I see Posco didn't ask what race you were."

"Perhaps it is fairly obvious I'm a Hobbit," replied Toby. "Poor boy, he was very confused."

"Yes," said Bingo softly. "But he is a very kind hobbit. I love him dearly. I love all in our little company of four. Blanco is especially good to me, but Marcho watches after me the most, I think. You should have seen him when we were walking here in the rain." Bingo's eyes filled with sweet recollection. "I was cold and wet and my cloak was drenched though his was considerably dry. Marcho took his cloak off and gave it to me. He's a very true friend."

[Faragorn]

Faragorn watched the many folk in the Inn to find yet another man watching, but he put no curiosity in it. He guessed that most would find him as an odd type. Not many people seemed to have glorious silver cloaks nor silver hair at that.

He noticed that Peony wasn’t easily annoyed. In his mind he thought that she had not seen the dangers he had, nor the worry of what might come to be. Many folk that he had come by in his travels had also no worry. It was a rather common thing around the Shire.

Faragorn faced Peony once more. “Well that is a very good question. Unfortunately one to which I have no answer. I have been traveling as a blind man. Not literally of course, but I see you understand.”

His mug was now empty and it was time for him to depart from this conversation. He did not want to get too far into the conversation before he would tell more of his life. He had many grand adventures to tell, but he would have to save those for another time. Faragorn stood up and pushed in his chair.

“I must get away from this horrid noise,” he lied. “I do apologize for I must end this conversation. If we ever do come across each other again I’d gladly come to have another pleasant conversation with you.” With that said he left to the other side of the room and sat down at a new table near the one that earlier had wandering eyes apon it. Now there was a man singing a song among his friends.

[Alaksoron]

'Jean' did not wait long after Peony got up to leave himself. He stood, not bothering to push in his chair, and walked to the door and opened it. Before he could step outside, however a sudden flash of lightning silhouetted a massive form against the doorway. With the heralding of that singular lightning flash the storm began again in earnest. Rain began to pour down and the wind began to howl like a pack of wolves.

The new arrival was wrapped in a black cloak which made Jean's unnaturally dark cloak seem pale grey. Despite standing in the doorway with harsh winds behind him the apparition's cloak did not stir. The figure was a good foot taller than Jean, who was an uncommonly tall man. The new one placed a gauntleted hand across 'Jean's chest and pushed him firmly backwards. Then he stepped forward and allowed the heavy oaken door to slam behind him.

The stranger started towards an unoccupied table in the corner and beckoned to 'Jean' to follow him. 'Jean' hastened to obey. The stranger's heavy boots thunked loudly on the hardwood floor.

The pair arrived at the table and took seats opposite each other. 'Jean' leaned over the table and whispered "What brings you here, Master?" The characteristic relaxed tone of Jean's voice was gone: he sounded intimidated, even obsequious.
"There will be a time for questions" the stranger responded harshly. He raised one hand and snapped his fingers, quite loudly. A serving girl scrambled over to the table. "Your finest red wine." He sent her scurrying off.

"So. I am told you call yourself Jean now. Well, 'Jean', let me tell you what you will do. You will first tell me everything you know of this 'Faragorn', and then you will go to the stables and look after my horses." The two men began to converse in low tones.

[Faragorn]

All the noise in the inn stopped for a moment as a tall cloaked stranger walked into the room, slamming the door behind him. Never had Faragorn seen a taller figure. He apparently knew one man of which was almost a head shorter than him. Both walked to the back of the old inn and began to whisper, or at least it seemed from the far distance away that Faragorn was.

The room filled with talking and laughter again. Faragorn kept his eyes on them to try and make out what they said, but the heavy cloaks made it far too dark for anyone to realize that their mouths were moving. He looked away and decided it was best left a mystery.

A servant came once more to his table, not noticing that he had been there for a while, and asked him if he cared for a brandy. Since his old one was empty, which he had left on the table that currently occupied the stranger and the other man, he decided to purchase another.

He was deciding where he would arrive next. Many things determined this, but out of all of them he thought most of where he could start on his journey.

[Firefoot]

"I'm from Buckland. My twin brother Blanco and I are here visiting our aunt... Marcho and Bingo came with us," said Posco. Lily noticed that he blushed slightly, but that he was in fact smiling. "Where are you from? I mean, what are you doing in Bywater?" Lily was almost surprised at the length of answer that he had provided, but she was also quite pleased.

"Well, I have wanted to travel for quite some time, and see some new places. My uncle - I have lived with my aunt and uncle for quite some time, you see - recommended that I start with the Shire. So here I am," said Lily. She took a sip of her tea. She had felt almost stifled earlier, but now the Common Room was feeling comfortable, and the fire in the nearby fireplace was crackling. "So you're from Buckland. I stopped there for a night a few days ago. Do you live in Brandy Hall, then?"

[Alaksoron]

Jean's conversation with the tall stranger abruptly ceased. Both leaned back in their chairs. They had been, quite without realizing it, hunched over the table in their effort to keep the conversation from unwelcome ears, whispering oh so quietly with their heads together. The stranger dismissed Jean with a wave of his hand, and Jean stood to leave, pulling up the hood of his cloak. Silently Jean made his way to the door and went out.

The stranger waited for the server to bring his wine. With it in hand, he made his way to the table where Faragorn was sitting. When he passed rather close to a certain table, the candles went out as he passed. Fortunately, the table was unoccuppied. Without waiting for an invitation, he set down across from Faragorn.

"Your name is Faragorn. Yes? How about you start by telling me why you are here in the Shire, Faragorn." He took a sip of his wine and started to unbuckle his heavy steel gauntlets, tucking them behind his swordbelt. Underneath his hands were still covered by black leather gloves.

The man's voice was quiet, his speech proper, but his tone demanded an answer. Faragorn casually peered deep into the man's hood but could make out nothing. The man's face was shadowed too much by his cowl.

[Gorothlammothiel]

Soronume had now been sat quietly for some time. He had been watching, as he had become accustomed to and now thoroughly enjoyed, all the inn's actvity. The man who had been only a few paces behind him when he entered the inn had conversed with others, but either now seemed to have grown tired of the conversation or was afraid of where it would lead, as he had quickly made his leave from it.

That wasn't the only group however, there was a larger group in the middle of the room, another sat listening intently to a song that had just been finished, but sung with such emotion, Soronume was not surprised the voice's beholder was almost brought to tears.

However, as intent was Soronume was watching those that filled the inn with it's warmth, he seemed to have gone unoticed himself. That he didn't mind. Friendly as he was, he did carry mystery to his character, introverted but not shy. Soronume knew that he fell into shadows when he desired to, and could also when he didn't. He didn't believe that this was the time to be alone, his journey of late had provided him with ample solitude.

He turned to the bar, looking for someone to serve him a drink, he didn't want anything more than water or similar however. The strong stuff certainly wasn't for him. Soronume noticed Aman running about the inn, as usual. He wondered if she remembered him from his last visit, though he would not be surprised if she didn't, it was some time ago.

As he waited to be served, he saw another solitary figure making way to the bar...

[Faragorn]

Faragorn thought for a slight moment, not understanding his place. The demanding voice of this ‘shadow’ made him wonder where his place was in this conversation. Apparently this stranger not only was curious about him, but he had obviously been spying for only one person knew of his name, and that was Peony.

The stranger seemed to be making himself comfortable, as if waiting for a long answer. Faragorn wouldn’t please a stranger just yet, but to keep him questioning. “Yes, that is the name I am called,” He said with a very calm voice, “but before I start answering any questions I shall ask you one. What is your name, if you’d be so kind to tell? I haven’t got the time to be guessing away for I have some thinking to do and you, whatever your name is, are stalling me from that. So may I receive a name?”

Faragorn felt something very strange about him. It was as if another presence was among him. This made him feel rather uncomfortable, but since he had no reason to leave he did not do so.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Willow looked around the room. There were so many people there now, and more coming. The evening was coming soon, she knew it by the lessened light... it seemed as if the day had went by so fast, but yet, she was still so tired. The party from the day before hadn't done much for her, either. Now, the yong Hobbit was so tired, she felt that she could've collapsed there, and slept. So... tired...

In fact, the pure sleepiness was pushing at her so much, that she didn't even feel hungry, even though she had only ate two or three smaller meals that day.

There were so many people...

The same panic that had taken her the day before hit her, made even worse by her need for sleep. She made her way to the bar, and took a cup of tea, and stumbled towards the room that she had aquired much earlier. The thoughts of sleep crowded her deeply out, and Willow had barely finished her hot drink before she collapsed into the low set bed, not even thinking to change into her undergarments, or make the blankets.

All she wanted was sleep, and Willow Overhill didn't care that it was still mid day, and supper had not get even came. She fell into a deep sleep, and just hoped that she could wake up when the time for supper came. But after she fell into her bed, she could hardly move. What's wrong with me? was her dull thoughts as she fell into the world of dreams.

[Alaksoron]

The stranger looked up at Faragorn's clipped tone. "Your place is to answer questions and not ask them. There will be a time for questions and a time for answers. But this small thing will I grant. My name is Falkor Alaksoron. Do not wonder that I know your name, for my ears are everywhere and you did not exercise caution in the giving of your name. Rather, you said it quite loudly, or loudly enough, and my man overheard.

"One more thing: Do not esteem yourself high enough to speak shortly to me, or you may lose your tongue. I am forestalling you from thinking, you said. Ha! You had better start thinking quickly. Now answer my question, and do not lie to me for I shall sense it immediately."

The man leaned back and took another sip of his wine, waiting to be answered. Faragorn sensed a faint strain of impatience from the man. The man was apparently making himself comfortable and showed no intention of leaving Faragorn to himself. Rather, he lit a pipe and prepared for a long wait.

[Faragorn]

Faragorn became agitated, yet was delighted at the thought of people interested in him. No man had ever threatened him, nor would this man if he knew what he was capable. But Faragorn wasn’t going to let that get in the way, for he realized that Falkor could make just a great of companion compare to a foe.

“So – you want to know of my business in the Shire. Well, I am a vagabond seeking for peace. My life has been full of death. Never had I gone a day without an image of people being slaughtered going through my mind. If that sounds strange to you, you may find it stranger that I know of you. Yes, that’s right. I know all about you.”

Faragorn looked deep into Falkor’s black eyes as if looking into an endless pit. “You were born in Rivendell and lived in Rohan for twelve years, true?” He grinned, now staring deeper and deeper into his eyes.

[Sirithheruwen]

Lily and Posco were continuing to talk, but Twylight didn't feel like listening much. Excusing herself silently, she made over to the bar to get a cup of tea. To her chagrin, Marcho was still sitting there, an empty mug of ale in his hand. Twylight looked around vainly, but the only open seat was between a dark and travel-worn man and Marcho himself. Trying not to meet his eyes, she motioned for a cup of tea. While it was being made, she examined the man next to her. He had a cut on his right shoulder and her garments were stained in many places with congealed blood. His hair was dark and shoulder length. She was keen to see what his face looked like, but his back was to her. She excepted her tea.

Behind her, a feeble cough broke the silence between Marcho and herself. She swiveled her head slightly to see if it was him. It was now her turn to sneer. Turning back, she let her eyes wander into the depths of her tea, trying her best to ignore Marcho.

[Nurumaiel]

Posco shook his head. "We live close by Brandy Hall, though," he said. "If I found a map here I could show you where we lived." He paused and stared in confusion at her. He didn't know what to say next. He felt as though he should say something but felt too shy. Her eyes were smiling encouragingly and kindly at him. The silence was becoming unbearable. He had to say something. Before considering exactly what he was saying, he blurted out, "You have lovely eyes, Miss Lily." And then he stopped abruptly and turned red with shame. He didn't think that was the kind of thing you said to a hobbit lass. Only if you were her sweetheart. Maybe she already had a husband and would be offended. He dropped his eyes and did not look at her.

Marcho could see that Twylight was deliberately ignoring him and it angered him. Putting his mug down, he jumped off his chair and went to the other end of the room by a window, glaring defiantly out. The sun was setting and a westerly wind rustled through the branches of the trees. The shadows were beginning to lengthen and cast themselves boldly over the green grass. Supper would be served soon.

Marcho felt his anger seeping out of him and to some annoyance found himself pained at Twylight's obvious disgust with him. He knew it was his own fault that nobody cared for him, but he wished it were not so. Lily's fierce eyes as she told him exactly what she thought of him... that he bore easily. But Twylight's silence... a silence that spoke of thoughts of disgust and avoidance. He knew he could not be kind to others, but he did not want them to think such things of him. He would keep to himself for the remainder of the evening.

[Sapphire_Flame]

Takua surveyed the modest inn for a few moments before entering. It seemed entirely too wholesome for it's own good. Still, there would be ale, and hopefully a room to rent.

The common room was crowded. Takua tugged her black cloak close around her. She hated crowds. And, of course, all the useful shadowy corners were occupied. A scowl twisted her thin, pale face. What seats were even left?

She finally dropped down at the one unoccupied table in the room, along the wall and adjacent a table occupied by two men. One seemed to be a ranger, the other a tall man all in black. They didn't appear to notice her presence, however, and Takua just leaned back with her legs stretched out under the table.

[Kitanna]

Peony once again found herself alone with nothing to do. She got up from her table so that someone else could sit down and she went to stand in the corner. She had grabbed her brandy and stood in a lonely little corner watching the people bustle around the inn.

A woman had just made her way in and sat down in a quiet little corner. Peony watched a moment and then continued her scan of the inn. Peony turned back to the woman who had just entered. She wondered if she was ranger. That had been the life Peony had wanted to lead at one point in time, but it seemed fate had other plans.

Still standing in her little corner Peony wondered if she should go wake up Deva. That why she won't have to worry about getting him up later when dinner rolled around. Maybe later. She thought looking around the inn again.

[Faragorn]

Faragorn decided that this conversation would last no longer. His journey would have to start now, no matter who threatened him. He removed himself from the conversation by standing up and heading out the door.

On the way out he noticed that a woman with a shadow black cloak had entered the room and seated herself next to the table they were sitting at. He wondered how much she had heard, but not caring he continued walking. Once more he passed Peony as he exited the door of the Inn.

Outside it was dull, with the damp clouds eager to pour down its rivers of water. The horses outside carefully watched him approach to a White Stallion. He opened the gate and released the horse. Faragorn grabbed the large leather sattle firmly as he got up on the back of the stallion. “Are you ready for another grand adventure, Silvermane?” The horse shook its head as if able to understand every word. “Then we shall ride!” - They were off once again.

[Firefoot]

Posco seemed at a loss for what to say, and Lily shared his feelings. She had never liked silence to go on for any length of time, and especially not the uncomfortable kind in which no one knew what to say. Suddenly, Posco burst out, "You have lovely eyes, Miss Lily." He immediately blushed and dropped his head, and Lily realized that meant that he hadn't seen her own blush. But it wasn't from embarassment, it was from... Lily wasn't sure what. She wasn't accustomed to receiving compliments on her looks; she had always considered herself rather average looking. Now, though, the eyes that Posco had called lovely sparkled with pleasure.

"Thank you," she said softly. "It's very sweet of you to say." Lily decided that he was probably the nicest hobbit lad she had ever met. Most of the boys she had known were friends, but most were the type that were fun to beat in a pony race, or some other such thing. But Posco was different. He was sweeter, shier, but also more sincere somehow. Lily grinned suddenly. He did look the sort that might like to ride though. Can't hurt to ask.

"Do you like to ride? Ponies, I mean?" she asked.

[Witch_Queen]

Aduthondiel
Adu didn't know what to think of Isaac's letter. It had sent chills down her spine. She wanted to go after her friend but decided not to. Her life was at the Inn waiting for Hama to return with the good news. Adu was so happy for Crystal. But she didn't want to believe that Crystal's brother had grown so much. It seemed like just the other day she was setting there watching the two of them play as children.

Adu knew she had gotten old, even though she didn't look it she felt it deep down inside her. To her it was only the other day Hama had left but it felt like eternity. She waited to hear something from him. Adu wanted to go out and meet Hama but wasn't sure if that would be wise. She turned to Crystal and gave them her goodbye. She had to go find Hama and see where he was. Adu mounted Count and rode off from the Inn in search of Hama.

[Nurumaiel]

The first glimmer of boldness and recklessness flickered into Posco's eyes and shone there with a fervor. It came from one thing... the recklessness he felt when concerned with riding. Back in his hometown in Buckland the young lads about his age were frequently holding races and then was the time Posco become assertive and fierce. Nothing daunted him then, but all caution was thrown to the wind to be tossed amid the tree that was the finish line.

"Ride!" he repeated, chuckling in delight. "I love to ride, Miss Lily. My pony is the fastest in Buckland, or so I believe." He sat back and relived the thrills of racing, heard the pounding of hoofs on the worn dirt roads, the sight of the dust flying up and the flared nostrils of the ponies, and the cries of encouragement from the riders to their horses. Closer and closer to the finish line, and then he would cross first. Always first.... Almost always.

The realization that he had often fallen into a lower place brought recollection to his mind that he was talking with a pretty young hobbit lass he didn't know very well and that he had been bolder than ever, and urging to ask her a question, nay, make a request of her, embarrassed him still. There was nothing for it. He'd be tormented for the rest of his life if he didn't. He leaned slightly forward so she could still hear him if he spoke low. He didn't wish anyone else to hear. "Miss Lily?" he said, his voice once again shy and timid. "If you don't mind... er... oh, would you please go out riding with me some time?"

[Sarin Mithrilanger]

Sarin yawned anhd suddenly remembered just how tired he was. "Well I hate to be the one to bring an end to a good evening, but I am tired. Perhaps we shall speak again another time."

Sarin walked up to the landlord and rented a room. Without thinking Sarin wandered off to his room and slumped into his bed. Sleep quickly seized him, and he fell into sleep thinking only of the vast Mountains and the glory of his father's battles.

[Firefoot]

Lily was amazed at the change that had come about in Posco with her question. His eyes shone and there was an excited intensity to his voice that hadn't been there before. He even chuckled, a bit. And then... he seemed to retreat into himself again. "Miss Lily? If you don't mind... er... oh, would you please go out riding with me some time?"

"I should love to. When would you like to go?" asked Lily, grinning broadly. She loved to ride, but too many of those times she had spent with her pony had been alone. She was thrilled to have a riding partner. She found that, unconsciously, she had gripped her hands together as if she were holding the reins, and pulled them apart sheepishly. "But just call me Lily, please, no 'Miss'."

[Sapphire_Flame]

Takua flagged down a passing servant and ordered an ale. She hoped the brew at this place was decent...

She noticed a woman just standing in a corner of the room, looking around. Her eyes lighted on Takua for a moment, moved off, then returned. Takua's mouth twisted into a half smile, and she raised her newly-delivered tankard in acknowledgement. Then she took a long drink.

The ale was good, anyway.

[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 (except for modifications needed to be made by the Moderators or Innkeeper).

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

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

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

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

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