The Green Dragon Inn - Part 6

[piosenniel]

ATTENTION: ALL ELVES

RE: MIRKWOOD

Mirkwood is no longer called Mirkwood at this time.

At present, the Green Dragon Inn is in the 4th Age - year 12 (many years after the War of the Ring – ended 3rd Age 3019; 4th Age began at the end of 3021 of the 3rd Age.).

In 3019 of the 3rd Age, Mirkwood was cleansed. It was renamed by Celeborn and Thranduil - 'Eryn Lasgalen'- the Wood of Green Leaves. It has been called that name now for about 14 years.

It is a name reminiscent of the Forest's original name, Greenwood the Great, before the shadow of Sauron as the Necromancer fell over it from Dol Guldur (about 3rd Age 1050).

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen woke as her neck jerked forward, she still sat up in the tree. Must be on my way, there is a great need of haste things must be seen to.

She jumped out of the tree, with an effortless landing in the dry dirt; and continued to make her way over to the Inn with the intention of finding the Innkeeper Aman and paying for her stay. 'Aman', she called from across the counter 'your Inn has great hospitality, but I must be taking my leave now, perhaps I shall return after what needs to be done is done.

'There is a journey ahead of me, I can say no more, here is my pay in full' she placed the gold and silver coins in front of her on the counter with a smile, she could see a slight sadness in Aman's eyes seeing another Fair One just walk away, to who know's where.

Esgallhugwen went into the stable to ready her horse, strapping the saddle bags onto the blanket, she sprang on top of Morsereg's back. Speeding down the dirt road, clad in her green cloak with bow strung to her back and sword at her side.

Namarie for now!

SAVE for edited post

[ October 26, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Amanaduial the archer]

Another elf gone...Middle Earth is losing the First Born so fast... Looking away from 'Huntress', Aman smiled after Esgalhugwen as she left through the Inn door, taking the same path that Aman had seen many take since she came, never to return. Sighing, she looked back to another of the fair folk, the bard's wife, who was presenting rather a problem in front of her.

Aman raised an eyebrow at the woman who called herself 'Huntress', seeing the woman's eyes twinkle rogueishly.

"No coin to pay, hmm?" Aman fixed the woman with a steady look, and even this mischievious looking elf squirmed slightly, then patted where pockets might be on her trousers before smiling ruefully.

"I jest not, Aman. I...I haven't been to an Inn for a while." A faraway look came into Huntress's eyes once more, and Aman saw the familiar echoes of memory and regret come into them. Familiar because in the the time she had been at the Inn, she had seen so many with the same melancholy looks. Why was it such a simple, hobbit Inn came to attract so many who at the same time wished to and dreaded forgetting their pasts. Maybe it was simply the fact it was a simple hobbit Inn, so set apart from the outside world...

The Innkeeper shook herself out of her reverie and at the same time the Huntress did the same, and set on Aman a gaze of her own, silently inquiring. The Innkeeper smiled quite as mysteriously as the elf had done before, not referring to what she herself had been thinking of. "No money to pay...dear me, now I could throw you out into the road..."

A gasp rose from the onlookers around, some in earnest, some mocking, knowing full well that this Innkeeper would do nothing of the sort.

"..., leave you to wander to Bree and try to take in Butterbur..."

Some of the little gullible hobbits were looking a little worried now. Who knew how the ways of the Big Folk worked...? But Huntress still watched her, her eyes twinkling with silent laughter, the hint of a smile at her lips.

Aman paused, then smiled suddenly. "Or we could ask for a little help around this evening and tomorrow...and a song? What do you say?"

The elf threw back her head a laughed, her curls bouncing around her shoulders, before she looked the Innkeeper in the eye. "Ah, now I ask myself would I rather be thrown out in the street!" She smiled. "With pleasure, Aman. But let a girl finish her drink?"

The Innkeeper nodded her consent, returning the smile, then turned to another who had come to the bar, a man whose name she did not know but who she recognised from the night before, and if it wasn't the evening, she would suspect he had only just woken up...

"Innkeeper, I would like whatever is served best here, I dont care what it is...just as long as it is steaming and good."

"Good? This is the Dragon, sir, would it be anything else?" Aman smiled with both her lips and eyes. The elf man rolled his eyes, hitting his forehead lightly with his palm.

"My mistake, Aman, I'm sure!"

The Innkeeper returned his smile, and inclined her head. "I'll see what I can do. A drink in the meantime?"

He consented, and Aman fixed him that part of the order, before raising her eyebrows once more at Huntress and murmuring 'a performance, yes?', and slipping away into the kitchen

~*~

OCC: Nowhere near enough, I know, considering my absense. I am terribly sorry for my absense of late, I've been very busy with various events with school, and I regret to say I'll be away for another week. Play my character how you will, within reason, and I will be back with you next Sunday. Sorry again [img]smilies/frown.gif[/img]

[Everdawn]

Sírabel noticed with great anticipation the comings and goings of the hobbits and men and elves, to which Sírabel's hazel eyes widened greatly. Well that is quite astonishing, Elves... I wonder...she trailed off on a thought for a while before noticing the Innkeeper and an elf man and woman at the other end of the bar. Trying desperately to pretend that she was observing some of her previous work she tried to spy glances of the interesting creatures that were elves. Stuffing the drying piece of canvas into her folio again, she resolved to simply speak with them instead. Besides, one of them may allow her to paint them.

"No matter" said Sírabel to herself "I dont very much feel like painting tonight, at least no yet, i am very tired." she put her foilo away and found an empty set of seats which she emptied out her paper and pastels and began to draw before falling into the deep oblivion which was sleep.

[ October 30, 2003: Message edited by: Everdawn ]

A small stretch of the arm away was Ahreknun, once again enjoying the overcrowded, paced atmosphere of the Dragon, however his ale held his attention more than the conversation that engulfed him. He sat in hope of being approached by anybody to guide him; "Strong and smart, yet lacking power and knowledge" as he was described by his father, Ahrenook.

Ahreknun was relaxed, yet uneasy, as he normally was in these somewhat unfamiliar situations, but every time his mind strayed from the surroundings, he reminded himself why he was here.

Ahreknun had visited the Green dagon only once before this past week, near 20 years previous, whilst still a boy, selflessly trying to discover the whereabouts of a rare stone, believed to have caused the disease which was blamed for the untimely death of his mother.

Turning to Aman and nodding, another brew was delivered to the bar where he sat. He pondered the worth of an early sleep, then disregarded his thoughts as he downed another pint, with eyes shut, and mind quickly giving way to his inebriated imaginings.

[piosenniel]

Please note:

It is still evening in the Shire and suppertime at the Inn.

Everyone who needs to get a post on for this evening/night in the Inn needs to do so before tomorrow real time, when I will move the time ahead to a new morning in the Shire.

~*~ Pio, Shire Moderator

[dancing spawn of ungoliant]

The door of the Inn creaked on its hinges and opened slowly. There stood a hooded shadow on the doorstep. The shadow stepped over the threshold and placed his sword with a broad blade in the corner. There was a skillful engraving of a horse in the scabbard of his sword and when he took off his cloak, his curly golden hair hided his face.

This man sat down at one table near the corner and took out an old and ragged map. He stared the map carefully and shook his golden head.

A young woman, the innkeeper, had walked to this man quietly.
"Good evening. It is suppertime. Would you like to have something to eat, Mr...?", asked Aman.
The man looked up from his map to the woman and smiled.
"Gorbaus is my name and rather I would prefer a descent guide namely this old map has leaded me astray", he replied courteously. "Though an ale wouldn't hurt me", he added grinning.

He sat there alone sipping his ale and fingering at a silvery brooch that was made into the shape of a galloping horse.

[Primrose Bolger]

Rose and Buttercup were busy seeing to the needs of the other customers and getting dishes cleared away in between times. The Inn seemed unusually busy this evening. Big Folk, Fair Folk, and here and there a scattering of Hobbits. ‘I wonder if old Gaffer Proudfoot brewed his own barrels of ale this year,’ she thought to herself. ‘Could be that’s where all the Hobbits have got off to.’

Prim smiled as she thought of the times her Gaffer had brought her with him to Bywater, on some business for The Floating Log. They had always broght a load of Budgeford hops with them when it was in season – to bring to Gaffer Proudfoot. He like to experiment with his ale brewing, and Prim’s Gaffer like to taste the results of those experiments!

Prim got up and cleared away her own dishes to the kitchen, going so far as to wash them up and leave them to dry in the drainer. Mistress Piosenniel, it appeared, had gone off to her room with her babies she noted with a sigh. Then smiled recalling she would be here tomorrow still and she could see the twins again then.

At a nod of assent from Cook, she grabbed a mug of tea and went back out to the Common Room. A new fellow had come in. One of the Big Folk from the Mark as far as she could see. ‘Same place as Aman,’ she thought to herself, noting the horse-figured brooch he fingered idly. She had heard a story once from her Gaffer about the wonderful horses raised there and sometimes fantasized her own little pony Poppy had some of the Rohan horse spirit in her.

Plucking up her courage, Prim approached the blonde haired man as he sat cradling his half empty ale mug in his hand. ‘Begging your pardon, Sir, but would you like me to top that off?’ She cursed herself for forgetting her manners and dropped a small curtsy. ‘My name’s Prim . . . Primrose Bolger of Frogmorton.’ The firelight glinted off the silver brooch as he looked at her, an amused glint in his eyes. Prim hurried on. ‘I couldn’t help noticing your sword and brooch, Sir. Are you by any chance from Rohan?’

Well, there, she’d let curiosity get the better of her!

She craned her neck a little, inching forward to see what that map was he had on the table . . .

[piosenniel]

Pickings had been slim since the war ended. The battle fields made such lovely buffet for the black clouds of crows and ravens that frequented them. And now they had been tidied up and that high-minded King (and selfishly short sighted, in his opinion) who sat now in Gondor had put an end to most of the strife that offered the dark winged battle field followers their easy pickings.

Even the little, bright, gew-gaws that had fallen from the slain had been cleared away, which aggravated the crow no end.

There he sat, on his one remaining good leg, his beady black eye fixed on the Inn just up the short path through the greensward. A number of passersby, visitors to the Inn, had made their way beneath the tree he sat quietly in, unaware that he was cataloguing each and every pretty, shiny bauble that caught the long rays of the failing sunlight. Silvered buttons, and ribbons fluttering as people hurried by. Stones hung about necks on glittery chains and shiny brooches called out to him. His head was dizzy with the wealth of possibilities he had stumbled onto . . .

Camlost fluffed out his feathers, appearing much like a ragged black ball, as he gripped hard the slender branch with his left talons. He preened himself with his yellow beak, arranging each feather carefully into place, before settling down for the evening.

‘Tomorrow,’ he thought, ‘tomorrow, I’ll case the place.’

[Imladris]

“My name is Finduilas,” I said, answering the elf’s question with a smile. I was about to ask what brought the elf to Gondor when stabbing pain rushed to my eyes. It was worse than the last volley and I could not help but to cry out in pain. “What is Elentari doing?” I asked softly to the elf.

“Speaking with Smani,” she replied with concern.

“I need to get a room in the Inn, and rest,” I said. But I couldn’t do it alone. I would trip over ever possible thing that was in the slightest way, I would probably stumble over my own feet, and would certainly not be able to find Aman on my own. Cringing I said lowly, my eyes fixed on the table, “would you be so kind as to help me get a room?”

“Certainly.”

Taking a tattered and wrinkled piece of paper, I wrote in what I knew was an unsightly scrawl:

Elentari, have gone to get a room. Please come visit me when un-busied.”

I wasn’t sure if “un-busied” was a word, but it sounded better than “when you are through” and it took a lot less words to write. Leaving it on the table, where I hoped Elentari would see it, I groped for my staff and Nedieth, hand upon my arm, guided me to Aman. “She needs a room,” Nedieth explained.

Dropping my hand into a pocket, I fumbled for some coins which I knew would be ample enough to pay for a couple of nights in advance. Aman assigned me to a room (her voice sounded quite cheerful) and Nedieth, kind elf that she was, patiently crawled up the stairs and turned a sharp right.

Sprawling myself upon the bed, I asked, “Thank you for your kindness, Nedieth. What brings you to the Shire?” There was a pause, and I added, “If you would prefer to talk with other elves instead with a blind girl, please do not feel obligated to visit with me.” I hoped that didn’t sound like a hint for her to leave, but I didn’t want her to feel as if she ought to stay and talk with one such as I.

[Elora]

Since afternoon had faded into evening, Uien had unfurled yet three more petals of the blossom she was carving. So intent had she been on her work in a quiet corner, that the comings and goings of the inn had passed her by like the tide. Indeed, she had even missed twilight, a fact that Falco Boffin had noted from his own vantage in the common room. Comfortably nestled behind a pint of ale, he had observed Uien carve continuously, fingers deft with her humble belt knife, pausing only to blow a shaving of wood out of the way.

Falco collected himself and his ale from his vantage and crossed the room. He set his mug down on the table top with a hearty thump, causing Uien's head to rise sharply from her work and her hands to still as she determined the nature of the thump. When her gaze settled on Falco, she nodded cautiously and examined him.

"What are you carving," he asked curiously, peering into her hands. She reflexively closed them around her work and then consciously opened them again. Uien set the unfinished flower upon the table top, well away from the small puddle of beer that Falco had deposited there with his arrival.

"'Tis a mallorn flower," she said simply, not expecting the Hobbit to be familiar with it. Falco peered at it, taking it up to turn it about in his hands. Uien folded her belt knife way.

"A mal-lorrn flower," he repeated with careful ennunciation. "Never heard of such a thing."

"They are not common here, except mayhap, at Hobbiton in the gardens of Mayor Samwise Gamgee." It was common knowledge that the Lady had bestowed him with the gift of a mallorn tree when the Fellowship had departed Lothlórien, at least amongst those who had dwelled beneath the golden boughs at the time.

At her naming of the Mayor, Falco ceased his inspection of the carving at peered at her face.

"You know the Mayor?" Uien could understand the note of incredulity in his question. Elf though she was, she hardly appeared to be consorting in such lofty circles. She shook her head, hair swaying as she reclaimed the unfinished carving and stowed it in the pouch at her belt.

"I only know of him, Shirrif." Uien thought she detected a hint of relief in Falco's face. Falco relaxed once again, at his ease. For a moment there, he'd been terribly concerned that somehow he'd gotten off on the wrong foot with someone of import. That would mean his infallible judge of character was not so infallible, an inconceivable notion up until he thought Uien was possibly an associate of the Mayor the Shire. If she had mentioned Peregrin Took, Falco was sure he would have had a fit.

As it was, Uien seemed distracted as she glanced out of the window and noted the darkened sky.

"You will have to excuse me, Shirrif Boffin. It is well past the time I should have seen to the horses for the night and there is still much I need to prepare for departure in the morning."

Falco nodded graciously. "Yes, yes... mustn't delay. When and where shall we meet?" He was being generous, hoping Uien would appreciate his largess in allowing her to choose a time and place for departure to Bree. If she did, she made no show of her gratitude. Instead, and loftily so it seemed to Falco, she deemed a suitable arranagement.

"At sunrise, from the stables, would seem well enough. If you see Lumiel, will you tell her of this?" Falco nodded a little stiffly, put out at her presumption that he, a Shirrif, was also her personal messanger, and directed his attentions to his now much neglected ale.

Uien herself moved through the growing throng of people to reach the door, through which she passed into the growing night as she made for the day pastures to return horses to their stables for the evening. In the quieter evening, Uien's thoughts and emotions could no longer be forcussed and poured into a piece of wood beneath her knife and fingers. They marked her expression, and the horses were greeted by sadden elven grey eyes. Her song, which she sang to them, was muted and melancholy, yet sweet. Singing, head bowed and mind full, Uien walked back and forth between darkened pastures and the stables, transferring horses and ponies into their stalls and seeing to their feed and water for the evening.

[Angel_Queen]

She walked in her blue eyes not able to adjust to the change in color. So dark this place seemed to her. Then the sounds of everyone came to her. "Excuse me?",she said but nobody answered her.
She took herself over to the bar. Her black hair not fitting in with all the other elves she saw. There was groups of elves but why would they be so far away from home or were they leaving and never coming back. She worried that she to some day might have to take that voyage.
"Excuse me.",she said in a louder voice, "My name is Ravon." She glanced around to see if she could notice any familar faces when she saw one that might looked familar. Its not him she thought to herself.

[ November 02, 2003: Message edited by: Angel_Queen ]

[Esgallhugwen]

A large black shadow trotted cautiously up to the tree by the Inn, refusing to follow the dirt road that lay in front of him. His massive powerful legs ended with thick jet black claws, as sharp as daggers.

Although if you looked closely, he was no harm to anyone except field mice and other such creatures, hunting farm animals was far to risky for his count, you see that's how he lost half of his left ear. And going to close to orcs, trying to pick off the tiny ones wasn't to bright either (there was always a bigger one around), so now he has a bit of a limp.

Draug, the wolf, was not accustomed to being in populated areas; but he had heard of Hobbits and Elves up in the North by over- hearing the foul talk of the orcs. And curious to find things out for himself, he has grown prone to wondering about.

Draug sat on his haunches, picking up all the various scents from inside the Inn, and the horses, he loves to watch horses, there're not usually chased with pitch forks by angry farmers and they seem so graceful, he had been graceful once before the big orc broke his leg.

But that was over now, and after a long journey, he curled about the tree and decided to have a nap.

[dancing spawn of ungoliant]

Gorbaus turned his map around so Primrose was able to see it. The map had been worn into holes an the ink had soiled part of it but she could spot at least Bree and the Old Forest in the map.
"You are keen-eyed, my lady, for from Rohan I surely am", said Gorbaus "but it is too long from the last time I saw our beautiful lands. For I'm a messenger and long and lonely has my road been."

Gorbaus sighed like under a heavy burden and closed his eyes. Primrose stood there a while fighting against her curiosity but once again she plucked up her courage. "Sir...may I ask, what is your destination?"
Gorbaus opened his eyes and a little glint kindled when he answered. "I'm going to Mithlond, to the Grey Havens and then I'm finally free to go home."

[Primrose Bolger]

‘A messenger,’ thought Prim as she cautiously took the chair he offered. ‘And bound for the Grey Havens.’ Curious, she looked at him closely, wondering what message he could be delivering and to whom. She wanted to ask more questions of him, about his mission and who had sent him and why.

The questions were almost on her lips when she heard her mother’s oft counseled words to her. ‘Don’t be so bold, little honeybee!’ her mother would say laughingly. ‘The flowers will still be there for you to drink your fill tomorrow!’

Instead she admired his map, saying that it had got him this far so it must be good. Her gaffer loved maps and was fond of showing her all that he had collected. She moved her finger westward from Bywater and showed him where the edge of the Shire was. ‘And right over these hills, the Emyn Beraid, is Harlindon. It’s a short ride, then, to the Grey Havens from there.’ She chewed on her lower lip a bit, confessing, ‘Or so I’ve been told.’

She chatted on with him through a flagon of ale on his part and a mug of tea on hers. He mostly listened, his lips curved in a gentle smile, his eyes bright with amusement as she chattered on about her family and Frogmorton and the Inn there. At the end of her mug of tea, she began to yawn midway through her sentences.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said stifling another yawn. ‘It was an early rise for me and a long day from The Floating Log to here. And here you’ve been so kind to me to let me go on jabbering like this at you. You’ve hardly gotten a word in edgewise!’ Another yawn punctuated this last sentence. ‘I think I’d better go off to my room now. Let’s meet tomorrow morning, Master Gorbaus. I promise to let you talk then!’

Prim got up from her chair and gave a little curtsy to the man. And a wave as she hurried off to the kitchen with her cup and then up to bed.

[piosenniel]

Nerindel's post - Taurëwen

Taurëwen silently followed Reynion up the stairs, not even noticing the soft steady clunk_clunk_clunk as his wooden leg met each step. All she could hear was the rhythmic pounding of her own heart drumming in her ears. What did he need to ask? she wondered, more than a little fearful of the answer.

The soft click of a door opening brought her attention back to Reynion, he was holding the door waiting for her to step inside. The room was bare of any sign that it was in use, the only sign that the room belonged to the male elf was the sword that stood on its own in a dark corner of the room, alone it seemed, almost as if it had been discarded without care.

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she turned to face Reyn, the sharp bright grey eyes that she remembered where all but dulled, by bad memories and the fire that once burned within them doused by drink. But as she held his searching gaze she perceived yet a small glimmer of light within them, a last dying ember waiting to be stoked in to life, if only she could find the fuel to re-light the fire he had lost.

"What is it, beloved" she gently urged, perceiving his increasing uneasiness.

She listened patiently as he struggled to find the words to express that which he needed to say. "Why me?" he asked finally, causing Taurëwen to step back a little in surprise.

"I'm not wise, even if elves are supposed to be, I'm not brave, I've only one leg, I left you without word, I'm a drunk. Why did you choose me out of all the elves in middle-earth?" he continued.

The question had indeed taking her by surprise, though she knew it shouldn't have. She looked at him thoughtfully a little dismayed that he thought so little of himself and he could not see what she could.

"I know why I love you. You're beautiful and wise and wonderful and kind and giving" he added as she paused, her cheeks flushed with quiet embarrassment, but before she could answer Reynion spoke more, "I'm no of those things" he went on, trying unsuccessfully to lighten his tone, Especially not beautiful, " he finished lowering his eyes.

"Are you not!" Taurëwen smiled gently raising an asking eyebrow, but she waited not for an answer.

"Was it not you who selflessly dived into freezing waters to save an elf that was not yet your friend? Was it not you who stood by his companion as they fought the spiders and orcs that infested our Greenwood? and was it not you who killed ....." her voice trailed here a little but she forced herself to go on, "the halforc Rhtalk?" A braver elf I have yet to meet she smiled warmly, though the thought of the halforc made her shiver.

"Kindness!" she continued. "Was it not you who came when my wisdom failed me? Was it not you who agreed to help me heal the lost ones, my brother included? and was it not you who watched over me when I collapsed each night with exhaustion. Her voice was soft and held only simple truth, but as she saw Reynion lower his head at the mention of her brother, she gently reached out her hands lifting his chin, "I have never blamed you for his loss, so you should not either, those who took his life have long since paid. Talas died free of the evil spell, a loyal elf of the greenwood and for that I am glad." she smiled with only the faintest glimmer of pain in her voice.

Her legs tiring from standing so long she sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Reyn to join her before continuing. "My heart had made it's choice before even I was aware," she whispered softly. "Only when circumstance threw us together did I realise what my heart already knew." At Reynion's puzzled expression she explained.
"Only once did I see you in the woods of our home, but each time after, when I walked that forest path I found comfort and safety, that I could not explain and yet did not question, content in that comfortable and safe place." Her soft eyes closing as she recalled the times she walked the green glades without care or fear. "Always did I feel your silent presence." She whispered her eyes still closed in remembering, but a warm and loving smile lit her face.

Her eyes opened and her smile faded slightly, "with the disappearance of my brother and the darkening of the woods these feeling became stifled and lost and the woods no longer gave me comfort as they once did. But that first night on our mission then I wondered to collect fire wood and you joined me, that same feeling of comfort and safety returned to me and as we journeyed this feelings grew, but in foolish pride, I suppose, I tried to bury these feelings, fearing rejection or worse I would give into my feelings only lose you to the horrors we faced." silver tears ran down her soft cheek and she trembled at his touch, as he gently brushed away her tears.

"Their was never a right time," she whispered.

"But still I have not answered your question," she smiled looking deep into his eyes. "I love your strength, your courage, your patience, the way you speak your mind, you caution and even your dry wit. It matters not to me that you have one leg less than any other, it is what is in here and here," she whispered gently touching his head and his heart.

"You are beautiful to me my love," she gently told him.

"With you alone do I feel whole." She whispered as he pulled her gently into his tight embrace kissing her softly, as the kiss ended Taurëwen found herself needing her own question answered. Gently pulling back from his embrace she asked the one question that had tormented her since he had left.

"Why did you leave me?" her voice was but a whisper, her stomach knotted with fear, but her eyes shone with silent yearning to know his answer no matter what it may reveal.

[ October 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Pre-dawn of a new day in the Shire

In that curious hour before dawn, something stirs in the hearts and souls of birds that makes them give voice to the arrival of another sunrise. The promise of light calls forth their voices and they sing the circling back of a new day with a mighty paean of chirps and twitters and full throated warbling.

Camlost opened one beady black eye with a groan, and looked blearily out into the predawn grey light inching up on the horizon. Had he fingers he would have stuck them firmly in his ears and hunkered down for another hour or two or three. ‘No use! Those birdbrains will go on twittering until old yellow-eye deigns to show her face,’ he muttered to himself.

The old crow rose stiffly on his leg and shook his feathers out. A half hearted croak escaped him, homage to his bird heritage, as he joined in with an off-key addition to the avian chorus. Light grazed the hills and treetops in the distance and wriggled its weak way over the land. Camlost settled himself on his branch, considering where he might find some breakfast. A slight stirring noise at the base of his tree, accompanied by a muffled whoof and the sounds of yawning, scratching and licking directed his attention downward.

‘What’s this?’ he squawked as the canine raised his large head to fix his yellow eyes on the crow. ‘Someone’s left a rather large, ugly mutt at the front gate.’ He turned his head from side to side and peered more closely at the now stretching form below. ‘A wolf! And a bit flea-bitten and worn out by the looks of him!’

Camlost stretched his wings and flew up to a higher branch. He wanted to be well out of the reach of those grinning jaws should the owner decide to stretch himself up the tree trunk.

‘Hey you!’ he called down in an effort to appear friendly. ‘You have a name? Or shall I just call you “hey you”.’

[ October 27, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Please note: TIME CHANGE

Time is moving forward now in the Shire.

It is early morning, with some clouds gathering in the west which could herald an afternoon thunder shower.

[Elora]

Uien stood with her horse, awaiting Falco Boffin who was to emerge shortly. Her horse, a roan gelding she had named Thalion, flicked his tail from side to side. The stables were quiet this early. Uien's mind was not. There was so much unfinished business and she little liked it. She had been waiting to speak with Derufin but had been unable to. He was busy with old friends and it was not her way to interrupt such things.

Aman too was busy. They all were. She felt a pang of guilt at riding away when there was plainly so much work to be done. But she had given her word, for many reasons, and her word was all she had in these latter days. So, she'd left letters that she had written in the small hours of the night whilst she made final preparations, for Aman and Derufin. All she could do was hope that such would be enough.

Falco emerged from the inn and blinked at the early light as Uien heard a crow cawing. She had little chance to pay much heed to the crow's words, for Falco's appearance without Lumiel drew her attention.

"Well, I think she must have vanished in the night like the rest of them," Falco said as he neared, studying Uien's revised appearance. The worn dress was gone. In its place were well travelled suede breeches, a leather tunic split from hip to mid calf for riding and a simple cream shirt that Uien had tied up in readiness for the day's promised heat. With her hair braided back and gleaming pale gold in the morning, she really did look like an Elf.

Uien studied the windows of the Inn. "I'm sure Lumiel will be here. Did you find her last night?"
"No, I did not," Falco said as he unhitched his pony. "I expect she's found something better to do, a boating trip instead of a riding party. Whatever has happened, it's you and I now and the day's wasting. It's a long road to Bree."

Uien made no response to Falco's gibe. She worriedly studied the inn. "It's certainly long enough for her to catch us up on." With that, she swung up onto Thalion. Falco put his heels to his pony and urged her forward. Uien trailed behind, staring at the inn. It had been her home, truly, when she had long despaired of ever finding such a thing. Her letters seemed inadequate, but she would return to make better amends.

Ahead, Falco's voice floated back to her. "Now's no time for day dreaming!" Uien caught Falco up and the pair disappeared into the dawn. Behind, in the stables, Uien had left two things.

A delicate mallorn flower unfurled it's petals as if greeting a new day, fragile beauty incandesent. The carving sat on a note that read:

Derufin,

Take this as my troth to return and my thanks. I am endebted to you for your kindnesses unnumbered and gracious care. I do not yet know how long it will take to bring Eodwine back. I only know that I will do all in power to ensure he returns, alive.

May the Valar shine upon you, my friend, until next we meet. I do not bid you namarie.

~Uien Aduial~

Inside the inn, on the large wooden table sat another folded piece of paper, written with the same even flowing hand as that left in the stables. It read:

Aman,

Faithless it seems to depart without so much as a hand raised in farewell. You deserve far more than that from one you took in without so much as knowing if I could tie my own shoes.

It is my hope that I will return, and soon, to thank you as fits your generous friendship. I give you this promise. I leave to do whatever can be done for a stranger lost, and I will return to do whatever I can for friends found.

I trust to the Valar to watch well your Inn and those within it, including Cook's pantry and the honey especially.

~Uien Aduial~

On that, Uien had drawn a Green Dragon, such as she had painted upon the inn's hitching rail and embellished it with a rune. It was the only symbol she had that her word, at least was good, for it was the symbol used by her family down the long years. It was the Tengwar rune for the letter "E" which her family had taken to represent their hope, estel that some good and peace would endure the darkness of those earliest of days. It was the rune that had been marked on her fathers and brother's shields, and she gave it now to Aman so that she may hope as Uien did that Eodwine would be found.

[ October 27, 2003: Message edited by: Elora ]

[Beruthiel]

Lavender Took followed the muddy old track towards the Green Dragon. Her long dress was dragging on the floor and she cursed when she saw the lovely lace edging coming undone. She picked up her skirts off the ground, checking that no one was there to see of course and continued on the path.

The youngish hobbitlass (as she said whenever anyone asked her age) had curly brown hair which, given the chance could be very messy, but Lavender being who she was made sure every curl was kept in place by a well hidden pin. Her chestnut brown eyes were one of the few things Lavender like about her face though she severely detested her nose (and especially the tiny freckles which were visible when you were about one hand’s length from her face).

Finally Lavender reached the door of the Green Dragon Inn, but before opening it she hurried to one of the windows to check her hair was in place, and then pushed open the door very timidly.

At first the Inn took her by surprise, rather than groups of drinking hobbits, Lavender saw just as many elves and men, maybe more.

‘Well, what IS the Shire coming to. Can’t even find a decent inn where there aren’t outsiders spreading gossip and all sorts. Oh deary me, look! Even the innkeeper is a foreigner. How atrocious!’

Shaking her head she headed towards the bar, hoping no one would notice her rather muddy lace trimmed skirts.

‘Dear me, what would Aunty Esmeralda say if she saw me here!’
(Aunt Esmeralda being a distant relation and nothing of an Aunt at all but Esmeralda had stayed with Lavender’s family so often she had finally moved in and ordered everyone to call her Aunt and it stuck that way).

Lavender approached the innkeeper and introduced herself.
“Hello, you must be the innkeeper. I’m Lavender Took and I think I’ll be staying for a few days. Do you have a spare room?”

[ October 28, 2003: Message edited by: Beruthiel ]

[piosenniel]

Please note: TIME CHANGE

Time is moving forward now in the Shire.

It is early morning, with some clouds gathering in the west which could herald an afternoon thunder shower.

[dancing spawn of ungoliant]

Gorbaus paced in front of the Inn. He narrowed his eyes and gazed the western horizon. "The Grey Havens!" he sighed. He knew he should leave this cozy Inn and lingering there would only delay the moment he had finished his task.
"But not yet", he said to himself, "not yet".

Gorbaus strolled to the Common Room and sat down to the table in the corner where he had sat last night. He wondered if he had a chance to chat again with that sweet though talkative hobbit girl. He leaned back in his chair and felt how weariness took over him.

[ October 28, 2003: Message edited by: dancing spawn of ungoliant ]

Nedieth sat in her room looking out the window. She had sat for about an hour the night before, talking to Finduilas. She had been amazed at how shy she was. (Flashback)

'“Thank you for your kindness, Nedieth. What brings you to the Shire?” There was a pause, and she added, “If you would prefer to talk with other elves instead with a blind girl, please do not feel obligated to visit with me.”

Nedieth smiled, " No it is fine. I know no one here at the inn. It is a pleasure to talk to anyone. So what part of Gondor do you hail from?"'

(End of flashback)

[ October 28, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Imladris]

I could feel the warm sunshine bathe my face with her gentle rays. A bird chittered quietly and I could dimly hear the screech of an old pump and the water splash within. I breathed deeply, refreshed from my night sleep. The conversation with Nedieth, though sweet, had been a trifle short, as we were both weary with our travel. She had told me of the forest from which she hailed (the strange elvish name has escaped me) and I, in turn, told her of Minas Tirith. My mind respun the evening: Elentari, Soronume, Elentari's song. It had been an enchanting melody, heavy with mournful tears, yet an undercurrent of triumph.

Rising slowly to my feet, I walked softly across the room, my balance slightly wavoring, and found my lyre. I could feel the dust upon the strings, and I reproached myself for not cleaning it more often. I nestled the harp against my shoulder, revelling in the feel of the wood. It had been so long since I had done this, since I had actually held it properly.

My fingers brushed the strings, and a jangling tinkled mockingly from them: I had lost my touch. It was not out of tune for my cousin in Bree had tuned it for me. My fingers found a string (hopefully it was the note C) and I struck it. It rang out, sharp and harsh and it was loud, as well. Not soft and gently as it was of yore. No matter. It would do so once again. I struck again and listened intently: is was A. I crawled down the ladder of strings and finally reached C. Then I stopped.

I never could read music: the stems and blobs of notes muddled me until I was as addle-brained as any hobbit. I had always played by ear and, if I may be so bold as to say it, I do -- did -- that very well. Setting my hands in position, tried to pluck out the tune. My fingers fumbled for the strings, or fell off them entirely. The notes merged together, forming a myriad of discord. Tears sprang to my eyes and my hands dropped to my sides. Of course I could not play again: it was foolish to have even tried.

[Everdawn]

The noise of the inn was what awoke Sírabel Delone from her unexpected slumber that morning. Not knowing that she had fallen asleep the previous night, she jerked her head upwards, many strands of burgundy ahir fell across her eyes.

Yauning she sat up taking in the morning atmosphere and leant her face against her hand. Sírabel then felt the familliar feeling of a chalk like substance on her fingertips. It was the remanants of the pastel. The young Woman looked down at the landscape which she had been painting the night before to discover a smudge made by her face. Hastily she removed the colours from her face.

As her eyes accustomed to the new day she felt her stomach as though it were about to cave in. "That is not good, either im diying or im very hungry." she decided that the latter was the more likely as she was sure that no one had slipped her poison during the last night.

Quietly with her moneybag she made her way once more to the bar.

[Esgallhugwen]

Sleeping, what a nice thing, you could always count on sleep, even if you didn't get that much, it was still there for you to come to. The chirping of the birds and warmth of the sun roused the large wolf into wakefulness. He glanced around with a start when he heard a strange croaking cawing noise coming from above his head.

Draug lookd up at the crow with a yawn, eyeing him with his keen yellow eyes. 'My name is Draug, I will not eat you, seems rather rude andf cruel to eat somthing that is talking to you, wouldn't you say?' He sratched at his left ear.

'Well then what be your name? and you can come closer if ye like, no harm will come I swear by my great fathers'. He picked up a scent of food baking and quickly turned his head in it's direction, an Inn, barely anyway seems awake. Draug looked up at the crow who seemed to be contemplating something himself.

'Oi', draug barked up at the tree 'let say you and me talk over a bite perhaps you can get something from that Inn, one will have to distract while the other grabs the food... sound good?' He sat on his haunches looking about the place, so very beautiful and peaceful.

The twittering of the birds in the trees woke Eamane from her long sleep. The rumbling of her stomach reminded her that she was no longer at home and had not eaten since yesterday morning. She could smell bread baking nearby and went in search of it. The smell was coming from the Green Dragon Inn,only a step from where she had slept.

When setting out on her journey the day before,she had been in a hurry and had left her food behind. The country she had been traveling in had not provided a resting place all day. She had fallen down under a tree in fatigue and hunger at nightfall.

She went inside and was ushered to a table and brought coffee. The women who brought it said her name was Aman and she was the innkeeper of the Green Dragon. A hobbit came and took her order for breakfast.

[ October 30, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Camlost, the crow

Camlost would have hopped back and forth on his legs, but he had only one. So, he made do with an awkward bobbing up and down. The wolf seemed friendly enough, on the one hand. And much to his surprise had spoken quite intelligently to him. On the other hand, there were those large, sharp teeth, and the fact that he mentioned he was hungry.

With one beady black eye fixed on the wolf, Camlost fluttered down to a lower branch. The wolf backed up a pace and sat on his haunches, giving the crow a measure of assurance.

‘The name is Camlost,’ he said to the wolf. The crow looked toward the Inn, watching the smoke curl up from the Inn kitchen. ‘How about I do a fly about and get back to you. I’ll see what’ll be easy for us to snag.’

A short while later and he was winging his way back, landing in a flurry of dust in the dirt in front of the wolf. Draug had lain back down, resting his head on his front paws. He sneezed at the intrusion of dust to his snout, nearly blowing over the already unsteady crow.

'Well?' he asked, his yellow eyes appraising the wobbly bird.

'Well,' returned Camlost, 'at the back of the Inn, along the sills of two of the kitchen windows, the cook has set out four lovely, large meat pies she is cooling for lunch later.' He winked at the wolf and continued. 'I'm sure she won't miss just one . . .!'

[ October 30, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Buttercup and Ruby

‘Cook’s just set out the meat pies to cool for lunch,’ said Buttercup hurrying out to the Common Room with a pitcher of that southern brew that had grown popular of late in the Shire. Coffee, it was. And if truth be told she was growing quite fond of it herself. Laced with sugar and a dollop of heavy cream, there was nothing better to get your day started. Her tray also held a pot of sweetspice tea, and a pitcher of ale for those who wanted it.

Ruby walked out with her, carrying a large tray filled with platters of scrambled eggs, and slices of Shire ham, and thick pieces of toast in napkin covered baskets. Pots of sweet cream butter and sweet strawberry jam accompanied the toast, as well as honey for those who preferred it.

‘Yes,’ replied Ruby, and that will mean she’ll want us cutting up the vegetables for the soup she’s serving with it. Best we get these plates handed round and get back to the kitchen.’

Buttercup stopped at the table of the tired looking newcomer. ‘A refill, Miss?’ she asked her, topping off the young woman’s cup of coffee. ‘Looks like you could use a little food, too,’ smiled Ruby, placing a heaping plate in front of the woman. The two Hobbit servers introduced themselves to Eamane, saying they hoped she would have a pleasant time in the Shire. ‘Just call us if you need anything,’ they added as they moved on to the next table.

Here was the blond haired fellow that Prim had been talking with last night. He looked tired, too - his chin lolling on his chest as he sat in his chair. Buttercup nudged his arm, and he came awake with a start.

‘Mater Gorbaus, it’s Buttercup. I’ve brought you some coffee, or there’s tea or ale if you prefer.’ Ruby put a heaping platter before the man. ‘You look like you could use some breakfast, too,’ she chided him. ‘The day looks best on a full stomach!’ He asked after Prim, and Ruby said she would be in later she thought, she had gone for an early morning visit to the family of one of her cousins.

Another customer waved them over, and they hurried off to see to his wants.

[Witch_Queen]

After setting a while at the table with Elentari she realized that she was drifting again. "Sorry about that Elentari, that is your name isn't it? Its a long story. One that shouldn't be told here."

The voices were about to drive her crazy. "Smani you can't escape it. You are bound to it. Just give in." "Get away from me," she screamed. "I'm sorry Elentari I can't tell you for telling you could ruin what I have got now."

She tried not to remember what her troubles were when she began to drift away again. "Smani tell me. It would ease your troubles."

"I can't sorry. I can't tell you. Though you might now the face you don't know the name. Smani isn't my actual name. Tell no one what I am about to tell you and please help me keep my secret. Please." Smani didn't know what she was going to get herself into with the whole putting the secret out. She began to tell Elentari her secrets and about how she is constantly threatened with the voice of her dead father. In a low voice she said her actual name " Though you know my face, my name is..." The sound of the name Cree made the Inn go quiet.

"You've done it now. That was the wrong thing to do,"she thought to herself. The silence was about to kill her.

[ October 31, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

Eamane started to look around the room as the good food revived her. A young fellow who looked weary sat at a table near her own. She noticed that there were many different kinds of people at this Inn. She thought of the long journey ahead of her, and decided it would be a good idea to stop here for awhile and perhaps learn more about the Shire country.

Eamane was an elf in search of a long forgotten branch of her family,they had last been known in these parts. She had traveled with her father as she was growing up and longed to return to that kind of life. A friend had come upon her and said that there were rumours of the long lost elves,she had set out right away.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

"Why did I leave?" Reyn repeated. "To be honest, I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"I was afraid that you would reject me. I thought this leg of mine," here he gestured to his wooden leg, "would make you pity me. I never wanted pity. I used to be proud, you know." A self-deprecating smile. "I didn't want to go live with my father--we don't, well, didn't, get along so well, and I--" he stopped abruptly, not wanting to hurt her.

"And what, beloved?" she asked, apparently confused as to why he had ceased like that. "And what?"

I saw you dancing with Orodhin, he thought, but did not say aloud. "It doesn't matter anymore. It never mattered, I only thought it did." He stopped again, then laughed slightly. "Do you know, I don't believe I've said this much at once in my entire life? Much less this much about things close to my heart."

He sighed, and pulled Taurewen close to him again, breathing deeply of her herbal scent. She fit exactly in his arms, like they had been made especially for each other. Actually, he was sure that they had.

He would have liked to stay that way forever, just the two of them, sitting alone on the plain, but comfortable bed. Unfortunately, even elves in love must care for their body, and they were no exception. "Beloved," he murmured. "It feels odd to say this," I've been living on wine for the past hundred years or so. "But I am suddenly struck that I haven't eaten for several days and I'm famished. Shall we to the common room?"

[Elizabeth Elindel]

The door opened silently, and a tall figure slipped in. A vail was drawn over her face, only her dark eyes showed, sparkling in the firelight.

A sword hung at her side, a bow and quiver of arrows was on her back. She shut the door and glanced around her, her eyes darting from figure to figure.

[ November 01, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Imladris]

I felt hot tears roll down my face as I stroked the harp like an obsessed, deluded lover. Long had that instrument been my friend, where I could pour my feelings into a single melody. Curse my blindness!

Standing up and wrecklessly striding to the window, I pushed the shutter open and leaned out, so that the sill dug into my stomach. I breathed deeply as I felt the wind caress my face with biting sharpness and tug my hair as it tied it into mishcievous knots.

Leaves of the trees rustled softly, their singing soft and low as they were plucked by the breeze as it tripped merrily by. What was hidden in the branches, what secrets did they contain? What insects haunted the rotting wood? What lady bird warmed her egs in her woven her haven of twigs and mud? What woodland seat was molded by the twisted roots of ancient oaks?

What colour of the sun streamed through this window (if it indeed even entered into my little room)? Did it land upon the wooden floor with a golden splash of tumultous brilliance, or did it creep softly within, glimmering upon the walls as it traveled to the west?

I could feel that a splinter had wriggled it's way through my rags and lodged itself in my stomach. I didn't care. The pain, annoying and burning as it was, was a welcome distraction from my questions which only taunted me. I bowed my head to the sill, the roughened sides digging into the the thin skinned flesh of my forehead. I was weary...weary of living.

[ElentariGreenleaf]

Elentari glared at those in the room who had gone silent at the sound of her companion’s true name. Cree... The name had a nice ring to it, yet this elf feared to share it. Under the intensity of Elentari's gaze the people in the inn continued their own conversations. Cree was right, Elentari knew her face but she had never known her name. Elentari sighed and looked back to Cree's troubled face.

"Smani," Elentari said. "Your past seems a dark one, and so I will not return to this subject in conversation. If you ever decide you want to share this burden, I will be here for you."

The elf's face softened slightly, though Elentari could see she was still troubled. Elentari suddenly remembered she had not gone to see Finduilas the night before, and so she gave her apologies to Cree and rushed off to find her young Gondorian friend. As she walked closer to Finduilas' room she heard a harp being played. She quietly opened the door so Finduilas would not know she was there. Discourteous as it was to sneak into her room, Elentari wanted to see how she acted alone. As the elf suspected she would, she stopped playing and walked over to the window. She was crying.

"You are merely out of practice," Elentari said, causing the girl to spin round.

"You heard me playing?" said Finduilas. "I didn't know you were there."

"Forgive me," Elentari apologised. "I wished to see how you are out of the public eye. You do not seem as happy as you were yesterday."

Finduilas turned back to the window. She could feel the gentle sunlight touch her face, but she could not see it. Elentari walked next to her and leaned on the windowsill. It was a fairly nice day, but there were clouds in the west.

"There's going to be a thunderstorm, isn't there," said Finduilas unexpectedly. "I can smell it on the air. I love that smell."

Elentari smiled. "See, you can already predict the weather. Yes, it looks as if there will be a thunderstorm, for there are clouds in the west. What else do your senses tell you?"

Finduilas took a moment take in everything her senses were telling her. "I hear some chicks in a tree over there," she said pointing. "They are calling to their parents because they're hungry. The leaves are rustling in the trees and there are people travelling down the road, one, no, two on ponies. And I can smell... I can smell breakfast!"

Elentari laughed. "You are correct in everything you say, Finduilas. Do not give up on the world yet! Come, let us go to breakfast." She led her young friend out of her room and back to the main room.

"Elentari!" said Soronume. "Did your nose tell you it's time for breakfast?"

"Not mine," replied the elf. "It was Finduilas' keen nose!"

Nedieth was famished. Breakfast smelled so good and she hurried to get dressed. Depression was on her again, though. Longing for her home. The smell reminded her of her aunt's cooking. She would cook small meals but they were always delicious.

She nearly ran down the stairs, for a moment being lost in her memories, but she slowly regained her composure. Reaching the commons, she grabbed a table.

[Elizabeth Elindel]

The valed figure halted for a moment, as if unsure what to do. She had travled all night, and into the morning. Now, she was weary, and wanted some food before pressing on. She made her way over to a table, and slowly sat down. She smiled wanly at Ruby, and requested some plain bread.

She pulled her vail to the side as she hingrily, bit into her bread that Ruby gave her, ignoring the glances of the other men and elves. Some light streamed in from the window and fell on her face, revealing two long scars, running down her left cheek.

Even as she ate, she glanced around the room anxously, as though she feared someone was watching her. She longed for company who would not look down on her, and tried not to show it.

[the real findorfin]

A cloaked and hooded traveller rose from his seat and shuffled unnoticed across the room to sit down beside the veiled figure. She looked up from her bread and nodded in greeting.
"Greetings," he said. His voice was mellow and soothing and his face was well shaped. He was an elf but did not seem to carry the aloof airs of one of the elder children.

"Hello," she replied, keeping her eyes lowered.

"You seem weary?" he suggested, trying to begin a conversation.

"I have travelled," she replied vaguely.
"Well, you certainly look non the worse for it." he smiled, a warm open smile, inviting and totally friendly.

[Elizabeth Elindel]

"Do I?" She asked, smileing. "I've travled long, I'm on my way to the havens. It's been a long time..." her eyes wandered to the window, and back again to the elf.

"My adventrues have taken me many places. My name is Elizabeth - I am an elf from Galadreal's relm. What is your name, and where are you from?"