The Green Dragon Inn - Part 5

[piosenniel]

Cook, done with the making of breakfast, and the preparation for lunch now well in hand by her newly found assistant, Esgallhugwen, took off her apron and wandered out to the Common Room. Es, as she called her, her tongue refusing to wrap satisfactorily around the Elven name, had been instructed to get the fresh vegetables from Beren in the garden and make a large pot of soup for lunch. She could get out the cookies in the pantry to place on a large platter as a sweet treat for the diners, and she was to make sure Buttercup sliced up the loaves of fresh honey wheat bread and that the pots of honey and sweet butter were filled and ready.

Aman was busy in the cellar, organizing the wines for the upcoming party. ‘Less than a week now!’ she said to herself, smiling. Piosenniel and the little ones and her Mister would be here. Cook shivered in anticipation of seeing her old friend.

She could see Ruby making the rounds of the tables with ale and cider. Here and there people were drinking tea, and some, strangely enough, were just enjoying a glass of cool well water. ‘No accounting for tastes,’ she reminded herself, pulling a foaming pint of dark stout for herself.

One of the patrons, Falowik, she thought, trying to recall the name she had heard from Ruby and Buttercup’s gossip was standing at the end of the bar. She nodded to him and walked toward him. ‘Pockets all flat as griddle-cakes! Not got a penny to his name, I’ll bet,’ she thought, keeping her face bland as she approached him. ‘Looks fit enough, though. Might be able to give Derufin some help with the roof, I’ll bet. Don’t want it leaking on Mistress Piosenniel and her wee ones.’

‘Vinca Bunce,’ she said as she drew near him. ‘Or Cook, as I’m more likely to be called. You look like you had some question need answering. Can I help you?’

She stopped short, not wanting to crowd in on him, knowing most Big Folk were wary of any who came too close. She sipped her ale, and waited patiently for his response.

[littlemanpoet]

Falowik stood with hat in hand. Cook was an intimidating presence. Her eyes roved over him, not missing his empty pockets, he noticed. It was folks like her that made him especially nervous.

He stumbled over his tongue for starters, but managed to get out, "I have no coin but I'm willing to work for my food." He winced. That had been about as careful as tangled feet.

[ August 25, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Reynion sighed heavily. He knew exactly what she meant, but...well, he didn't want to subject her to any more reminder of that terrible mission. His dreams were terrible; he didn't want her to be around when one of the nightmares came on, she was so sensitized to that sort of thing. Stop fooling yoursel, he told himself, grimly. You know that the real reason you left was you were afraid of rejection. You were afraid she wouldn't want you. There was Orodhin, once... He sternly ordered himself to stop it. She was here, right beside him.

He inhaled the aroma of the coffee deeply. Perhaps it would wake him up for real. Eru knew he needed it. He raised the mug to his lips and sipped, then yelped and nearly dropped it. Certainly he set it down more roughly than was his wont. Wine was much colder and it didn't burn the tongue the way this stuff did. The throat, yes, the first few times one tried it, but not quite the same way.

Taurewen looked at him a little oddly, though he could see no concealed mirth in her lovely green eyes. "It's hot," he tried to explain, only feeling more foolish. He was unlucky enough to glance at the window to cover his embarrassment, and a fresh spasm of the headache stabbed through his temples. He put a hand to his eyes and grimaced.

May Bracegurtle watched the elf maid with almond eyes. She moved quite fluidly, as if in a dance, her bow and arrows strapped to her back. She was quite unlike the chubby short hobbit lass that May was, and she felt a prick of jealousy toward the elf. The Stranger (Nuinyulma), ate gradually, her hair long and luxurious. It was wavy, unlike May's redish cork screw curls that fell to her shoulders.

May had been sent by her mother to fetch her father and brothers at the inn. When she arrived, she found they had already left and were making their way home. May lingered, however, watching the elf with curious eyes. Being just 20 years of age, May was obsessed with the outside world. She had a restlessness in her, her older brother would say, that could not be grounded.

May watched as the elf finished up her food in the corner, than proceeded to go to her room. Skirting the view of the bar maids and other guests, the little hobbit followed the beautiful elf as quietly as possible.

The elf came to her room that she had been given in exchange for a few coins and closed the door. May guessed that she was probably going to sleep. Hoping that her mother would not mind her being late for dinner, and praying that she would not get in too much trouble, May waited outside the elf's door. She was determined to meet this stranger.

[Elora]

Uien returned to the stable markedly cleaner than she had left it. Hair freshly washed, dried and combed and most of the damage to her dress washed out (that which could be washed out), she looked in on Derufin before returning to the inn. She found him still carving happily. Uien stood silent, watching for a moment. Derufin seemed happy. It was a shame to disturb him, still she fancied Cook would even have an inch of Derufin's hide if he missed a meal.

"Derufin," Uien said in a gentle voice. He frowned at what he was working on. Uien could see clean lines emerging already. It was an intricate piece of work, astonishing.
"I am sorry to trouble you, m'Lord," she continued on playfully, "but it is lunch and better me disturb you than Cook find you with one of her mixing spoons." Uien smiled at the stablemaster.

Derufin brushed some recently loosened wood shavings away absently and returned her smile. "No trouble," he replied easily, stretching his fingers from the work they had been doing for the past hours. Uien nodded at him.

"An intriguing piece, if you do not mind me saying. Far more advanced than the childish work I pass off. I would very much like to see it when it is finished," she said as Derufin glanced back down at his work. Uien then took a step back out the door and Derufin rose, setting the carving aside.

"I would very much like to see it when it is finished too," he said as he walked towards his door. Uien puzzled over that, not entirely sure what he meant. Afterall, surely he knew what it would look like already. As they walked up the front steps, Derufin glanced at the garden's newly turned earth and weed free borders.

"Someone has been busy," he commented. Uien nodded. "Yes, and I'll make a start on the vegetable garden after lunch, provided Mrs Bunce gives me her permission," she said cautiously. The idea of wading into Cook's garden without permission was not a pleasant one. Derufin chuckled as walked through the Inn door.

"Wise," is all he said. Standing at the counter was the woman in question. Mrs Bunce stood with her arms crossed before Falowik. Uien paused, uncertain as to what passed. Falowik did not look entirely comfortable. Cook glanced at Derufin as he entered, Uien trailing behind him.

"Ah, Stablemaster Derufin," she said using his proper title. Derufin looked somewhat cautious himself at that. "I have someone who may be able to help you with preparations for the upcoming vistors." Derufin seemed puzzled as he moved closer to where Cook and Falowik stood.

"Beren has already fixed the stable roof," he started. Cook dismissed that with a wave of her hand. Uien watched on closely all that unfolded.

"What do I care for the stable roof when my attic roof is still leaking," she said sternly. "Falowik is looking for some work." Cook glanced in askance at Uien, who was inexplicably hovering by Derufin's elbow, gazing at Falowik. Derufin crossed his arms and considered the matter. Cook, her work on that done, moved onto the next order of business.

"And here she finally is. Just where have you been, Uien? Second Breakfast finished over an hour ago." Before Uien could open her mouth in protest, the unstoppable Mrs Bunce had hold of her elbow and was carting her away.

"Come, come! I can't you have fainting away in the middle of the lunch rush. Elf maidens cluttering up the floor will put our customers off their food. I won't stand for it." Cook pushed her firmly in the direction of the kitchen, propelling Uien towards the doors. Uien managed to stop with grace prior to shooting through them. She turned to look back to where Derufin and Falowik stood.

"Go on, Miss! Shoo!" Cook waved her hands at her. Uien shot a hapless smile and a nod at Derufin, the only way to get her thoughts on the matter the Stablemaster considered to him from across the room. When her gaze shifted to Falowik, her smile became shy.

"Quickly now Uien," Cook said in an exasperated voice. Uien acquiesed and the kitchen doors closed behind her as Cook shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into the girl today." The fact that Uien was by no means a girl, even by her own people's measures, did not seem to make a whit of difference to Mrs Bunce.

In the kitchens, Uien darted about between the Hobbits, gathering food, plates and odds and ends to bring back out. It was another way she could make amends. If Derufin took him on, and that was what Falowik wished, then she could perhaps bring lunch to him.

Small kindnesses such things were, but in a large world that can be cold, small kindnesses were not so small. So the tray was laden with bread, cheeses, fruit, cold meat and all the accoutrements that accompany lunch. As she gathered, Uien's smile grew. Falowik was staying a little, and that made her glader than anything.

[piosenniel]

Everyone please note:

It is now mid morning going on noon of a pleasant mid-summer day in the Shire.

Cook's assistant is just making soup for lunch. Breakfast is just over.

[Envinyatar]

‘The woman is a born organizer,’ said Derufin, nodding in the direction of Cook as she sailed through the doors of the kitchen, Uien in tow. ‘Come, sit with me for a while, if you will. Cook is determined that you should be “found useful”, and suggested in her inevitably direct way that the Inn’s roof needs patching up and reshingling.’ He looked at Falowik, trying to get a read on what the man was thinking.

Ruby passed by with a flagon of nut brown ale and plunked two mugs down in front of them. Derufin waved her off, saying he needed a clear head for the afternoon, and could she bring him a mug of cool cider instead. He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankle beneath the table. ‘To be honest, I could use the help if you are going to be around over the next week,’ he began, his eyes catching sight of Uien as she struggled through the kitchen door with a platter piled high with food. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, standing up. ‘I see a friend in need of assistance.’

So focused was she on transporting the platter of food safely, that she did not see Derufin as he approached. ‘Are we expecting an onslaught of hungry dragons?’ he asked, winking at her as he took the tray from her slender hands. Startled, she looked at him, her face turning a fetching shade of pink.

‘Won’t you sit with us, Uien?’ His words coaxed her along to the table where Falowik sat. ‘Master Falowik is thinking over the offer I’ve put to him. The Inn roof does need shingling, and some of the supports beneath it need to be replaced, I think. It’s the eastern end of it, over the attic. Guests are coming next week. And it won’t do to have them exposed to the elements.’ He sat the platter of foodstuffs in the center of the table, and pulled out the chair for Uien, bidding her take her seat.

‘You might as well relent, and say you’ll do it,’ he said, turning back to Falowik. ‘Cook will hound us both 'til it’s done to her satisfaction.’ He leaned toward Uien, offering her the plate first. ‘And you, you’re nimble and sure footed – how about being the roofer’s assistant. Two pair of hands will make the work go more quickly . . .’

[Imladris]

Lira followed the Innkeeper up the stairs as she heard the crying of the person in the room. It was a nightmare, of that Lira was sure. She could almost feel his terror and his anger. Lira's muscles tightened as she heard Aman ask if he was alright. No answer came from within, and soon, all was silent. Lira slowly crept down the stairs again and made her way towards the wine cellar, stopped, and decided to visit Merkaliel, her mare.

Merkaliel neighed her welcome, and Lira whinnied back, her blue eyes dancing as she saw the silver mare prance in delight, her soft mane glittering in the golden rays as it danced in the light breeze. Laughing, Lira untied a soft brown saddle bag and withdrew a red apple which she fed to her horse.

Merkaliel munched it thankfully and nuzzled Lira's hand for more when she had finished. "No more for you, Merkaliel," said Lira, stroking the mare's grey muzzle. Namarie, Mellon," she whispered, her hand trailing from the horse's withers as she skipped back towards the wine cellar and resumed the labeling.

Aman had been teaching her how to label the wines, and Lira did it quickly and easily. It was dusky in the cellar, and a sense of loneliness seemed to linger within. Lira breathed deeply, the scent of the wine tickling her nostrils and set to work as she dreamed and sang of the birds that flew in the blue sky, the trees that played with the wind, and the flowers that scented the meadows with sweet fragrance.

[Esgallhugwen]

Before Esgallhugwen could even reply, cook had already ordered to get the fresh vegetables from Beren in the garden and make a large pot of soup for lunch. She could get out the cookies in the pantry to place on a large platter as a sweet treat for the diners, and she was to make sure Buttercup sliced up the loaves of fresh honey wheat bread and that the pots of honey and sweet butter were filled and ready.

No problem she thought as the Cook rushed out of the kitchen tending to other things that needed to be done. You will not be able to work with the cloak and sword at your side! the voice in her head laughed mockingly you who wishes to hide from all those who see you! You think you can hide? It is impossible, and what are you hiding from, there're all dead, no one can find you.

Esgallhugwen's teeth clenched together in frustration. It cannot be seen that they all died I do not know that! I only worry that he is not dead, how am I to know he perished in the flames, he could be looking for me right now! The voice stopped the mockery and fell silent, knowing all too well the peril that plagued her.

Miss Bunce called her E's, Esgallhugwen laughed at this she knew not many of the little people would be able to pronounce it in their tongue but that bothered her little. She heard of the trouble you could get yourself into if you didn't listen to the Cook. Especially if you missed a meal.

Just at that thought, an Elf maid was pushed into the kitchen with Miss Bunce firing off orders for her to eat something and that they didn't need Elf maidens littering the floor of the Inn from lack of food. The caught each others glance before she rushed out the door again with a huge platter of food.

Esgallhugwen just stood there; she knew how to cook, but where could she find Beren? Or should she just go to the garden and start picking vegetables. First she should rid herself of any clothing or items that would only make it more unbearable to cook in the already hot kitchen, she knew of the risk but doubted very much that anyone that did not work here would charge in; no one knew her here that would perhaps allow her to go unoticed. Though she had been reckless in the past.

She hoped there were no spies and that no one would be intrigued to ask her questions she dared not to answer.

[Elora]

Uien had been distracted by the long look Esgallhugwen gave her as she emerged from the kitchen. Derufin's arrival took her by surprise, the tray relieved from her grip by his own certain and stronger grasp. "Thank you Derufin," she said as he asked her about dragon's feasts. He was smiling, and Uien blushed. Before she could admit to her ignorance about the finer culinary preferences of dragons, he was coaxing her back to the table. Her cheeks retained their delicate flush as she followed, watching Falowik as she approached.

She sat, accepted a plate from Derufin and did all she could to regain her composure. It seemed to slip through her fingers and prove her a fool at the most important moments, such as when she felt Falowik's glance brush past her. He surely must think her a fool, given what had passed already at the well. When Derufin made his suggestion, Uien blinked in surprise and waited for Falowik to immediately demur the proposition. Were she him, she would.

Roofer's Assistant! Uien stared at her plate, momentarily at a loss and preoccupied. Falowik surely would not wish her to assist. Perched upon a roof, it did not do well to have one who so irritated and angered you to assist. Derufin, when Uien glanced up at him, seemed rather pleased with himself at the solution. Falowik was busy thinking it over, throwing her a cautious glance.

Hoping to not simply confound matters further, Uien ventured a reply on the matter. "Gladly I will help, if that meets with Master Falowik's pleasure." Hope that this was so lit in her face as she nodded her acceptance. Internally, Uien reviewed what she knew of shingling. There had not been much call for that sort of craft in Lothlorien. She'd have to learn, and quickly too, in order to redeem herself. Falowik was gazing at the dragon's feast that Uien had assembled.

"What say you, Falowik," she prompted gently. "The view from the roof is breathtaking," she added with a smile. Derufin looked at her in askance.

"Been there recently, Uien," he asked, wondering why the Elf might possibly be climbing on Inn rooves. Uien shrugged lightly and handed the Stablemaster a piece of bread.

"The view from the hayloft is dazzling enough, Derufin. From the vantage of the roof it would be bewitching," she replied, then passing a piece of bread to set on Falowik's plate. Uien made a mental note to see if this was so. Imagine, so close to the stars at twilight... That would be a sight to see. She flashed a cheerful grin at Derufin and began to set out the cold roast beef on their plates. Provided it suited Falowik, the job could be a enjoyable one. Between the view and the opportunity to work with the golden haired Man, Uien's heart lifted. She could learn, and quickly if it came to it, about shingling and many other other things.

As she did swiftly contemplated, Uien noticed the movement of Esgallhugwen. She recalled the long look the other Elf had traded with her. She did not know quite what it meant. Did Esgallhugwen know something? Uien had turned to watch the other Elf leave in search of Beren, silently watchful and pensive. Ruby returned to the table with cider in three mugs, noticing Uien's long gaze. The Hobbit shook her head. First she was darting about the kitchen building a mountain of food, then she was sitting before her plate staring over her shoulder, lunch untouched.

It was all rather strange, but to Ruby Uien had rarely been straightforward. With a shake of her Hobbit head, Ruby departed once more. Uien turned back to the table as Falowik made his reply. Her face was bright with the hope that she could somehow redeem herself in his sights by proving herself of some use. If it was to be by shingling, then Uien would do all that she could in proving her value by that.

[littlemanpoet]

Derufin got up from the table after making his offer. A week! Roofing? Falowik had never done such a thing. Shelter over his or anyone's head had been far from his mind for many years now. He had asked for means to pay for one meal, not used to thinking any further in advance than the next step, or deed, or trail. To think of a whole day was a great reach. To think of a week at a time? It was beyond his reckoning. These people were offering him a roof over his head and board before him for seven full days! Were they mad? They didn't even know him.

Derufin came back. Uien was with him. She sat between the two men, and all the world shifted toward the lodestone. She outshone all others in the room. Falowik was hard pressed to keep a clear thought in his head. Derufin was leaning toward the Light, saying something about a roofer's assistant. Uien stared at her plate, and the sun seemed to hide behind clouds. Falowik's tongue refused to release itself from the roof of his mouth. Uien's next words took him by surprise. She is concerned whether it pleases me? Her face shone almost as brightly as it had the night before.

Am I staring? He pulled his eyes away. You're supposed to be thinking about whether to accept the man's offer, fool. Uien and Derufin were joking back and forth, free and easy with each other. Falowik's throat caught as he wished that he could be that easy with her, or with anyone.

But he remembered that he may well have another man's fate in his hands. To stay an entire week might be to ensure that man's death! He could not bear to have that on his conscience. These people spoke well of this King's messenger, a harpist by all accounts. It had fallen to Falowik to do what he could for this man, and now he wanted to meet him if he might. He could not stay here the week. At most, for half a day; enough time to earn the meal he was staring at.

Uien set a piece of bread on Falowik's plate. His eye followed the hand rather than the bread. He stopped staring and began to eat the bread her hand had touched. It loosened his tongue right well, stumbling over itself trying to find the right way to speak his thought. You oaf! he told himself as he listened to his tongue splatter sounds like broken dishware on the floor.

"I - it would - please me - I mean, I would be honored to work beside you-" he was looking at Uien, he realized, and quickly forced his glance toward Derufin "-sir. But the man who is lost in the wilderness - I must do right by him. I fear a week would be too long."

A loud voice interrupted them.

"There you are, wanderer! Found yourself another free meal, I take it!" It was that shirriff hobbit, the untrusting one. Falco Buffoon or something. "I hope he's behaved hisself proper under your care, Master Derufin. Best hurry up with your breakfast, wanderer, as we've business to take care of. I hope you remember the matter of a missing man, reported by yourself, I recall? Have you made any recruits yet, as you told me you planned on doing? Or have you just been dallying?" He glanced at Uien and Derufin. "Mind if I sit down?" He took a seat. "You gonna eat all that? Seeing as it's free food-" He reached over to grab a heel of bread from Falowik's plate.

Falowik rose suddenly from his place, staring at the hobbit in rage. "I -" Do not make excuses to this fool, old man, he'll just twist them. "As soon as I have paid for my meal in labor, I am ready to join the search, Master Hobbit." He faced Derufin. "As soon as you are ready, good sir." He turned to Uien. "I - it has been my honor and pleasure, Fair One." He was unable to keep the longing out of his eyes, so he looked away as quickly as he could and walked outside, ignoring the hoots of the fool hobbit and his mocking words about seeing the way he'd looked at her.

His feet did not stop, and he found himself by the tree where he had slept, and where she had - done whatever wonder she had done. There were flowers, still fresh and blooming, lying on the blanket he had set carefully in the bough of the tree. He wondered how they might have gotten there. The wind could not have blown them in just such a way; they would have had to be placed so. Only one person knew he had been there. His rage at the foolish hobbit was gone, his heart lightened for knowing she had thought of him. But the lightness fled quickly, for he would have to leave, and soon. At least he would share a few hours with this Elf woman passing fair. He had heard the legend of Beren and Luthien, and now it seemed odd to him that there were so few unions of Man and Elf woman in all the ages of Middle Earth. But no, it was not to be so wondered, for surely most Elven women did not so humble themselves. Then why did she? He had much to learn in a short time.

[ August 26, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Elora]

Uien was silent as Falowik spoke, but her heart was far from quiet. For fear she would further shame herself, she kept her gaze locked on her plate yet what passed through her was plainly writ on her face. No sooner was she about to burst out of her silence with a question concerning the lost man than did the Hobbit of the prior evening arrive and seat himself at the table.

Suspicion and impatience marked his manner as he reached for the bread upon Falowik's plate. Anger flared inexplicably within her at the offence that simmered beneath his words. Appearances could be most deceiving. Before she could speak, Falowik had risen and left. She managed only to glance up at him, yet he could not stay. He held her gaze and turned and left.

Uien found herself all but glowing with outrage. When she turned back to the Hobbit, she all but threw her own bread upon his plate. Derufin's brows shot up in surprise. Falco looked baffled and then decidedly put out as he met her eyes. Her gaze was stern and forbidding.

"Master Hobbit, I am unfamiliar with the laws of this land. Tell me, if you would be so kind, as to whether it is true that to be a wanderer is to be guilty of some crime," she asked in a cool voice. Falco stared at her blankly.

"I'm not sure I take your meaning..." he started, stumbling for her name from the night before. She let him grasp for it futilely. Derfuin placed a warning hand on her arm which Uien paid no heed to. The injustice steeled her voice and tempered it further and she unconsciously drew to herself the lofty air that accompanied many of Lothlorien's folk to the eyes of the outside world.

"Falowik seems to stand in some suspicion, and his crime seems to be that of a wanderer who has reported a Man missing," Uien intoned. She fixed Falco with a keen stare. "Is not the world a cold enough place as it is? Must we expect treachery and misdeed of all simply because they are strange to us? Is the evil of Sauron's malice to continue to live, driving the Free Peoples apart through lingering mistrust?"

Even if Falco had answers for her questions, Uien had little inclination to accord them any attention. Her mind worked swiftly. The Shiriff was bristling by this stage. "I'll not have an Elf accuse me of unfairness," he objected in a rising voice.

"Then who will be permitted to question you? Tell me so that it may be so," Uien shot back fiercely. Her temper was loose and ranging widely, Falco firmly in her sights. Derufin, shocked by the outburst of his usually quiet assistant found a space into which intervene. "Come now, Uien... Master Shiriff. Is there any need for us to come to argument here?"

Uien had taken a deep breath and leant back from the table. Falco was muttering about imperious and arrogant Elves. "Yes," replied Uien bitterly, "For here, this day, it is Falowik who is treated as a foe for no more than being a stranger to these lands. In another place, in the past, it was I who wandered into lands unfriedly and by good deed comdemned myself. A slippery slope we are on, and I will be damned if I will see us slide into yet more divisions at some point in the future!

A war was not fought for such petty squabbles as this!" Derufin stared hard at Uien, perhaps in reproach. Uien met the gaze calmly, her mind made. "Volunteers, you say Master Falco, are to be gathered to search for the missing Man. You have another, and yes, she is a wanderer too. Mark me well!"

With that Uien stood. "If he is injured, you will need a healer, provided I can be trusted. And if I can, then so too can Falowik!" Uien gathered her skirts to her as though they were rich velvets. Falco and Derufin stared up at her, Falco's mouth slightly ajar as he struggled to deal with the Elf. If Uien was Noldorin in one trait, it was in her resolute counsel. The only individuals who had managed to alter it upon occassion in the past had long left her behind now.

"You may have my share also. I find I have no appetite," she said. Uien nodded to Derufin, favoured the Shiriff with a long, challenging gaze and swept from the Inn with her chin held high. Uien made one detour to the stables to fetch her cloak and her collection of dried herbs. Throwing the cloak around her shoulders, she made then for where Falowik stood by his tree.

He marked the high spirits in her eyes and he glanced at the small pack that hung from one hand. "I volunteered," Uien said simply. "Wanderers sometimes need to band together to smooth the road ahead." Uien smiled gently, glancing back at the Inn. "I think the Shiriff will be ill-pleased with me after my words, and likely Derufin as well, but he is not so foolish as to turn away the aid of a healer when a Man is missing in the wilds."

Falowik studied her as she pushed a strand of hair from her face. "Have I displeased you," she asked hesitantly, suddenly unsure. He shook his head uncertainly, gaze straying to the flowers he had found.

"I am not sure I understand," he began, gaze swinging back to her. "Is this wise?"

Uien's lips curved into a smile once more. "I am not sure I understand either. But sometimes what is wise and what should be done are not the same thing. I am not so learned as to be Wise, but the path to be taken shines so that I cannot turn away from it." Her gaze was intent and steady upon Falowik, taking in his features.

"If you seek labour to pay off the debt of a mouthful of bread, perhaps you could aid me to replentish my supply of herbs. I hope to be prepared for whatever the search may find." Uien held up her small pack, the scent of herbs delicately rising, and held her other hand out to Falowik. Her fingers yearned towards him, beckoning.

[Envinyatar]

‘You’re a thick-headed Hobbit, Falco!’ The well muscled forearm of Cook swept round from behind the startled Shiriff. She had heard the exchange and did not approve of his handling of it. One did not run roughshod over patrons and staff at the Inn, with the exception of Cook, that is.

‘Best you be off now to see Halfred in his office down the road.’ Her thick fingered hand plucked the tray of food from before him. ‘Now drink up, and get to your business of finding Mister Eodwine.’ She snatched the mug as soon as its bottom hit back on the table top. ‘Go on now!’ she said with a steely tone of command in her voice. ‘You won’t be finding him with your back end glued to a chair in the Inn.’

Ear tips flushing crimson, the Hobbit stood with as much dignity as he could muster and marched for the door. He gave a quick, sly smile to Ruby as he passed her in her rounds with the ale and cider. She gave him a cold smile, and a hmmmph of displeasure. ‘A fair enough face and figure,’ she thought to herself, as she watched him march out the door. ‘But a little lordly in his manner.’

Derufin sat back in his chair, an amused look on his face. Cook looked eye to eye at the seated man, and he straightened up, wiping the smile from his face.

‘Foul business after all that trouble in the Great War, for Little and Big Folk to be squabbling over trifles,’ she chided him. ‘Falco’s off to do his job, Uien’s gone off in a snit, as has the new man . . . no time for you to be sitting about either. The stables need seeing to, I’m sure. And once you’re done there, I want that roof looked at over the eastern part of the attic. Mistress Piosenniel and her wee ones will be here all too soon. And there’ll be the piper to pay if I have to drag this old body up the ladder and fix the problem myself!’

‘Yes, ma’am!’ replied the man, the manners he learned at his mother’s knee returning to him at Cook’s admonishment. He stood, grabbing, some bread, ham, and cheese from the platter she still held in her hands, and hurried out the door.

[ August 27, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Imladris]

Lira stretched and turned her head towards the sun, which was nearing her zenith. "I must fetch a bite to eat," she said, hasitly rising and skipping out of the cellar. "Else Cook will have a fuss," she said, smiling.

As she munched upon a piece of bread, she saw a strange man, a wanderer, the stablemaster, Uien, the elf maiden, and another hobbit having some sort of disagreement. Frowning, Lira followed the man with her eyes as he left the table and strode to the door, saw the anger spark in Uien's eyes as she shot a cold reply to the hobbit, and watched her leave as well. Lira sighed and curled her bread into a ball: all appetite had left her as she had watched the exchange.

Anger was a strange thing, Lira mused as she strolled to the stable and began to tear the ball apart and scatter the pieces upon the ground for the birds. She turned and saw the wanderer standing beside a tree and saw Uien approach him. A smile glowed upon Lira's face as she watched them: the elf helping a wounded man...a man wounded in spirit.

After the bread had been sprinkled upon the green grass, Lira decided that she must again return to her duties. She danced and twirled across the plush lawn, reveling in the beauty of the sun and to the singing of the birds.

[Esgallhugwen]

Esgallhugwen could not help overhearing the argument, she was sure she wasn't the only one. The Elf maiden and a Hobbit had a disagreement (which was the polite way to put it) the Elf had defended the stranger from the shirriff's rude comments, a fire came out in her that Esgallhugwen had not seen in a long time.

It being none of her business and not wanting to get involved with strangers; all but Lira, she returned to the shedding of uneeded clothing. She folded it gently and went out the back way placing it in Morsereg's stall.

Lunch was nearing for the Hobbits and Beren was still no where to be seen, even for elvish eyes. Which means he is still in bed or out elsewhere, so Esgallhugwen took to the garden in search of vegetables, before hand she had already started to heat up the water and had set out the cookies as requested by Cook. As she dug up some of the carrots the rich smell of earth entered her nose tingling her senses, she smiled gently, taking pleasure in simple things.

Not too long afterwards she had piled what was needed in a basket and was heading towards the kitchen, humming softly to herself an old elvish hyme. Esgallhugwen chopped up the vegetables, remembering to make thick chunks like the ones that were in the soup she had devoured last night.

Now all that's left is to boil them, then find Buttercup to slice the loaves of bread. Esgallhugwen had wondered where the Elf Uien had gone to, to see the strange man more than likely. It was right for her do to so; there was something between them that only grew stronger.

You are quite nosy for an Elf that has no business concerning herself with affairs that are not her own! But you do humble yourself by chopping vegetables instead of cleaving orc's heads, no matter you will eventually come around and go on the hunt again... before they come to you, before he comes to you. Esgallhugwen busied herself with the task in front of her.

I do not humble myself by cooking for people, nor do I linger and sit idle for my father to find me and have his way with me. I command you to keep silent I am in no need of your malicious voice mocking me with ill words and threats. If I had a way I would cleave you in two!
Esgallhugwen did not have two personalities but often took counsel with herself, she would always criticise herself, warning against being to open towards others in case of betrayal. Those thoughts she kept very close and always had them in mind.

[Nurumaiel]

Hamson sat at a table, taking in the delicious smells of food cooking and trying to ignore the hunger in his stomach. Since he had paid all his money for a room, he had had none left to purchase even a small breakfast. What was he still doing at the inn, anyway? He should have been home by now after escaping Melilot. Except for that one minor problem... he hadn't escaped Melilot.

He risked a glance at her, careful that she would not see him. She was sitting at a table across the room. Her blue eyes were still alive with excitement, her freckled cheeks flushed and triumphant. So she had won that round. Hamson shrugged and began tracing patterns on the worn wood of the table, smiling softly. Well, he had other plans. Maybe the first one didn't work, but that wasn't the end. He would get rid of Melilot. He'd escape somehow.

But the night before... A frown came to his face as he thought back to it. How could she have possibly known what he was scheming? He hadn't spoken to anyone at the inn, besides to get a room for the night, and he hadn't mentioned his plan then. It was impossible. Melilot didn't read his thoughts, did she?

The evening before Hamson had gone up to his room as soon as the sky became completely dark. Poor Melilot had been so infuriated when he had told her good night in a too-innocent voice. He had even gone so low as to kiss her cheek. He had pretended to head off to his room, but in reality he had ducked behind a table while she wasn't looking at him. From there he could see all her actions. She had gone up to the counter and, trying to sound reasonable, asked if there were any rooms available. When the answer was 'yes,' the look of triumph on her face was extreme. "Well, reserve a room for me," she said. "I'll be back to take it soon, and don't worry, I'll pay." Then she had swept out of the inn.

Hamson had gone to his room and sat awake on his bed until midnight came along. Positive that Melilot would have claimed her room and gone to sleep by that time, he jumped the short distance out his window. Chuckling with wild delight, he had run around the corner of the inn towards the road. Oh, what terror had run through him when, upon turning the corner, he had found Melilot, hands on hips, grinning insanely at him. Thinking about it now, he wasn't quite sure if the terror had been from actually finding her there or from the madness of her grin.

"Hamson Cotton, what are you doing out here at this hour?" she had demanded coolly, looking up at the sky.

"I think I should ask you that," Hamson had gasped weakly. "What are you doing out here."

"I don't see what business that is of yours," Melilot replied, turning her blue eyes back to him. "But, Hamson, I'm dying of curiosity."

"Then die, and good riddance," Hamson muttered, trying to step past her. She slid over so she was in front of him again, and Hamson began to wonder if he were dealing with an insane hobbit or a snake in disguise.

"Were you running away?"

In a desperate attempt to get free from her, he had said, "Melilot, you're a pretty girl. You don't want my old hole out in Buckland. You want a hole somewhere civilized, like here in Bywater." He could have kicked himself. How weak and cowardly to bribe her!

She ignored him. "Were you running away?" she asked again, stepping closer, an evil glint in her eyes.

A little silence, then, "I was escaping," he grumbled at last, deciding stubborn silence wouldn't free him.

"It's the same thing."

"No, it's not. If I ran away it would be because I was afraid of you. Escaping from you means I'm trying to be free from captivity." His sulky matter disappeared and his eyes flashed defiantly. "Melilot Sackville-Baggins," he said in a low, deliberate voice. "I wish you would disappear."

"I'm not disappearing until you give me that hole," she nearly spat at him. "And then I'll be disappearing into it, and you will be disappearing out of it."

"Go throw yourself in the Pond," Hamson muttered, not caring if he were being rude or not as he shoved her aside and strode past her. He had stalked over to the door only to find that it was locked. He supposed if he knocked someone would answer, but he didn't want to cause the trouble. It would be just as easy to climb back through his window. Retracing his steps, he was just climbing in when he heard Melilot call out, "Oh, Hamson, the door is locked and I need to get inn."

He grinned cruelly, and before disappearing into his room called out, "G'night, dear! Have sweet dreams!" Then he had closed and locked the window so she couldn't climb in and punch him around. You never knew with Melilot. Normally she acted like the perfect lady, but when she was angry she had one of the hardest fists in the Shire.

Now as Hamson sat in the Green Dragon inn the following morning, tracing patterns on the table he was sitting at, he grinned and called out the the young hobbit lass sitting across the room from him, "Melilot, did you have a good sleep?"

She stood up and walked slowly towards him. When she reached his table and set her hands on it and leaned forward till she was just an inch away from his face. "Hamson, go jump in the Pond," she snarled. "I hope you drown."

"Mel," he continued in a honey-sweet voice, "do you have money for dinner."

"Yes, I do," she replied, glancing at him. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said. "I don't." He looked hopefully at her, but she shook her head with a mock expression of sadness on her face and returned to her own table. Chuckling to himself, he called out to her that he was going home to get some money. He didn't mention the other thing he was going to get. If the lad had any sense, he would have run for it while he had the chance, but he had begun the war with Melilot and now he wanted to finish it. At his home, he grabbed enough money for dinner and two more days at the Green Dragon, and, exiting through the kitchen door, his mother didn't even notice her pepper disappear.

[littlemanpoet]

Am I in a dream? Falowik thought. Uien's hand reached to him. Maybe a wondrous dream has become real. He watched his hand come up to hers and enfold it. Her hand was warm to the touch. He could not help but smile, nor did he wish to keep a straight face. She is my joy! He could not bring himself to speak his thought; it presumed too much. He had met her not a half day ago.

...the path to be taken shines so that I cannot turn away from it. Her words were written upon his memory; words of hope. A thought came to him, one most fitting to be spoken, for it did not presume too much, and might serve to brighten her yet the more.

"It is you that gives the light to the path that shines, Fair One." He was surprised by the warm tembre in his own voice, which had for years sounded harsh in his ears. It was her doing. She smiled the more and quickened their pace, and he matched it.

"I'm glad that you will join in the search," Falowik said.

"As am I, Falowik."

"I fear that Eodwine may not still be alive and that I've dallied too long."

"May it not be so. We shall do our best to find him and see to his weal."

His heart was full. They searched for herbs together, and his knowledge of the local varieties made her selections sure, for she knew well what she was after.

"I did promise Derufin to help with the roof for half a day," he said when her bag was almost full. "I should return and make good."

[Elora]

"Of course," Uien replied to Falowik with a warm smile. A man of his word. Hers was not the only light of the path that stretched before her feet. It was mingled and golden. She drew the pack closed, securing the tie and slinging it back over one shoulder, measuring carefully her next words.

"Only one thing would I ask of you, Laurëatan." Falowik stilled, the midday light gilding his features. "Will you not use my name? Uien is not as contestable as Fair One." She smiled shyly at her request, Falowik somewhat surprised. His brow furrowed as he examined her face carefully.

"If I have caused offence with Fair-," he replied. Uien shook her head, placing a reassuring hand upon his arm as she returned his earnest gaze with her own clear eyes.

"I would hear how it sounds in your voice," she said shyly, flushing somewhat with her confession. "Please, it would please me greatly" she added. Falowik was silent for a moment, long enough for Uien to wonder if somehow she had again offended him. Then came what she wanted to hear.

"Uien," Falowik said, slowly at first as though tasting the sounds of her name. A smile blossomed on her face at the sound of his voice in her name. "Uien," he repeated, a smile of his own growing as he saw her respond. She closed her eyes and let it resonate within her mind.

"Yes," she sighed as her eyes drifted open again, her touch still resting on Falowik's arm. He took her hand up in his own, wrapping his strong hands around it and studied it. What he made of it, Uien could only guess at, for her hands had long ago left the idle pasttimes of her youth and had been set to the purpose of surviving for long years. Yet, as he studied, the years melted away and it was as she remembered.

Around them the trees swayed softly, the sky flawless and blue overhead. Time stretched infinitely in that moment. There was only the thrum of her heart, the sure warmth and strength of his hands held in subtle control around her own and the fairness of his face, his voice and his spirit that looked back at her through his eyes. The breeze tugged at her hair, lifting it back from her face.

Uien herself found drawn closer, a tide carried her and without struggle she followed. Further and deeper into the time that stretched around them, into the man that stood before her. The longing was in his eyes, and her own. She watched him wrestle with it. Then again his voice rumbled through her.

"The roof," Falowik murmured. A man of his word.

"The roof," Uien echoed. Falowik released her hand and stepped back as if to regain his balance. She could still feel the warmth of his fingers upon her own. "A fine roofer's assistant I would be to cause you to tarry," she said regretfully.

"Derufin keeps his store of tools and timber at the back of the stables. Likely he is there already." Falowik glanced at the stables and nodded. The pair pulled themselves to make for the stables, Uien's memory singing with that eternal moment. They found the stablemaster sorting through shingles at the back of the stables. Uien, recalling the somewhat tempestuous nature of her departure from the table, had new cause to flush as they approached.

Derufin glanced up, looking from Falowik to Uien. "Falowik would like to see what can be done before the search leaves," Uien explained as the stablemaster straightened.

"There's more than enough to keep us busy until then," he said. His alert eyes moved over Uien's cloak and pack. "Are you sure you will be able to keep your focus and balance" he inquired of Uien. Her flare of temper in defense of Falowik had him wondering if it was wise to send her up. Afterall, if Falco walked out Uien could well decide to rain some loose shingles upon the Shiriff's head. Derufin was not to know that Uien was as likely to charge headfirst into the fray in defense of those dear to her as the Sun was to rise in the East each day.

Uien, however, mistook the question as something else. Her glance towards Falowik said much of what she thought her friend was getting at by way of distraction. "I'm perfectly able to assist," she confirmed, setting her pack down and laying her cloak over it to demonstrate her readiness. By the time she had straightened smoothly once more, she caught only the last glimpse of a fond, if somewhat exasperate smile.

"Right then," Derufin said, "Cook's right keen to see the attic roof mended after our lunch." He placed a meaningful emphasis on the the last word. Uien showed no sign of repentance. Stubborn pride shone in her eyes but she made no reply. Falwoik watched the exchange keenly, his questions building. Once the matter of tools, ladders shingles and roofing tacks were sorted out, Derufin fell silent.

As they collected the gathered materials and equipment, Uien and Falowik were not left to wonder long about what the other man mulled over. The three made their way to the inn to set up the ladder. As Falowik was testing it to ensure it was securely in place, Derufin broke his quiet musing.

"Remember now Uien," he said, "Try not to throw anything at Falco from the roof. He is the Shiriff in these parts and I doubt he'd thank you for a handful of shingle tacks in his rump." Uien looked sharply at Derufin who was smiling merrily at her.

"I doubt he'd notice the tacks, perceptive as the Shiriff has proved himself to be." Uien's reply was replete with dry sarcasm. She raised a single brow, to which Derufin held up his hands in open surrender, smile still in place. Uien turned then to Falowik, the jar of tacks in question amongst the other material she carried.

"After you," she said smoothly, as though they were ascending to a feast or ball. Curious as Falowik must be, Uien was not entirely sure how to explain her sudden fire of her defense. Now, at the base of a ladder which they were to climb to shingle a roof was not the likely place. Perhaps, atop, with the calm of the countryside far below them, she could find a way if he asked.

[Esgallhugwen]

'Stop argueing with yourself, and get lunch ready' Esgallhugwen muttered under her breath. She flitted about the kitchen like a pale phantom sniffing out where the spices were kept and soon enough she found them; in a small cupboard. The pot was boiling with the fresh vegetables as she added the spices, careful to add just the right amount so the soup would be rich and flavourful.

Esgallhugwen called for Buttercup to start slicing up the loaves of honey wheat bread and to see that the pots of honey and sweet butter were filled. Buttercup came but was a little shocked to see the strange Elf in the kitchen.

And yet she gave Esgallhugwen a look of recognition, she had been the Hobbit lass that was startled by her grey eyes while stoking the small fire in her room. 'Oh, where has Cook gone off to?'.

'She asked me to cook lunch for the Inn today, she also asked that you slice the loaves there and fill the pots with honey and sweet butter please, I didn't ask if she had anywhere to be; it isn't my business to ask about personal matters or any matters that don't concern me' Esgallhugwen smiled faintly and stirred the soup a few more times.

The aroma of the rich soup began to curl delicately about the kitchen than made it's way into the rest of the Inn, alerting guests and staff that lunch was very soon on it's way. Esgallhugwen put the lid on the pot and simmered it.

Esgallhugwen called out to Cook telling her that lunch is done and that Buttercup only has to finish up filling the pots with sweet butter and honey. Lunch is served.

[Dynaviir]

Dynaviir slowly struggled down the stairs. His head was barely listening to him. He felt weary, and strecthed, and didn't feel like he had rested at all. He paused at the doorway of the corridor, then yawned deeply, with his hand over his mouth. He knew this would attract a few queer looks from some of the little-folk, but he was still stressed from his nightmare. He thought they had stopped..

'Enough,' he told himself. 'You know none of this wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done.'

He looked down at the floor. Oh, wasn't there? Wasn't it your fault that he was born? All that suffering.. she never even saw the boy. She had given up everything, and for what?

Dynaviir shook his head. 'Look,' it told him, 'there's no point hurting youself over the past. You have made your mistakes. Now you will need to live by them. But that doesn't mean you can't be happy.'

Something stirred in his mind. It didn't sound like he was talking to himself..

And then suddenly he realised where he was. Talking to himself, looking very queer, blocking a doorway for people half his sight. He sighed, and rolled his eyes at himself. He walked into the common room.

It doesn't mean you can't be happy. That was what she had told him. She knew all too well of the suffering of people. But.. her sorrow made her beautiful, and yet her hope even more so...

Dynaviir smiled, and finally ending his train of thought, sat down and looked around him. He wondered where Niniel was, he hadn't seen her since his first night at the inn. He wanted to talk with her, it would be good to relax, and talk as if he was with an old friend. He knew Doienwei loved the extra company; in fact she had looked sorely disappointed when Dynaviir hadn't brought Niniel to her the nights before.

He carefully yet swiftly cast his eyes around the room. He saw her, sitting at a table a small distance away. He felt a little bit more hopeful. If he could talk to someone about normal things, maybe things would return to normal themselves; where he would push aside his past once again, and leave his dreams behind him. And they wouldn't dwindle in his head, when he really should be eating breakfast.

[ August 28, 2003: Message edited by: Dynaviir ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel smiled in welcome surprise when Dynaviir came and sat down at her table. He looked tired, like he hadn't been sleeping too well the past few nights.

"B-b-bad n-n-night's sleep?" she asked. "You l-l-l-look like you c-c-could use a g-g-g-great deal of c-c-c-c-coffee." She proffered her as yet untouched mug and smiled again. He took the cup gratefully. It smelled wonderful and just breathing in the aroma seemed to make him feel a little better.

"H-h-how is Doi-Doi-Doienwei?" she asked, a little chagrined that she had not visited the friendly little pony. For that matter, she was sorry that she hadn't sought out the friendly little pony's master. Dynaviir was one of the few people with whom she felt that she could speak freely. Well, as freely as one can speak when one suffers from a chronic stutter.

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Elenrod was tired. He needed to stop. He just walked all the way to the Shire from the Misty Mountains, helping the dwarves rebuild Khazad-dum. The last decent meal he had was at Imladris; after that, he survived on nothing but fruits and berries. And now, his body refused to go any further: it cried for food, and rest. Then, with his elven eyes he descried for afar an inn. "Looks cheerful enough," he thought. He slowly walked forward to the inn "'The Green Dragon,'" he said as he read the sign. "Reminds me of Ascarog, the worm Eonwe and I slew in the War of Wrath." He went inside.

Seating himself on the nearest empty table and placing his slender bag on the opposite chair, he immediately fell into deep thought. "I really want to go home, to see mother, and father, and...Miriel." As he slowly breathed the name, his thoughts turned to the daughter of Tar-Palantir, whom he fell in love with, and rescued from the tumults of the Great Sea. He dared the wrath of the Valar to bring her to Eldamar. And, before he left for Middle Earth, he promised her they'll be married when he returns. "But," a voice answered, "I can't go back yet. My mission seems...incomplete. Sorry, vanimelda, but I have to stay a little longer."

He snapped out of his reverie when his stomach growled loudly. His thoughts returned to Middle Earth, to the lovely land of the Hobbits, to the Green Dragon, as he stood up and called in a loud voice, "Can I have something to eat, please?"

[Envinyatar]

Now there’s a diversion for this already skewed day thought Cook, looking up from her lists, quill poised over the entry ‘cinnamon’. A rare southron spice. It was best to keep ahead on the supply, since the supply depended on either the mercy of the seas or the mercy of the still untamed eastern lands.

She laid the quill carefully on its rest and wiped her inky fingers on the hem of her apron. The list she secured in the metal box on the shelf beneath the bar top. Launching her short frame from the tall barstool, she landed without incident on the floor and walked over to where the Elf stood. He looked as if her were ready to launch into another loud request for food, and she yanked on the hem of his tunic to draw his attention.

‘My good sir,’ she began, standing back apace so that he might see her more easily. ‘We Hobbits are small but we hear the same as any. No need to bellow out for help, like some miner lost in a cave. Just motion one of the servers over, and she’ll be happy to accommodate you.’

She nodded to the chair, indicating he should seat himself. ‘Vinca Bunce, in fact, at your service. What would you like to eat, and what can I have the girl bring you to drink?’ She motioned Ruby over with a wave of her hand.

‘And will you be staying,’ she asked, noting his slender bag. ‘Or are you just passing through . . .?’

[Nerindel]

"Rey!" Taurëwen whispered, genuine concern lacing her voice as she reached across the table, But as she gently touched his raised hand, he pulled away, but she caught his bloodshot eyes. "What has happened to you?" she whispered sadly drawing her hand away and rummaging in her herb satchel for something that would relieve his headache. She produced a dark coloured root and snapped it in half and offered it to Reynion, telling him to put it beneath his nose and inhale deeply, "It should work quickly" she continued seeing his hesitation. he nodded grimly and did as she asked.

Tall and proud stand Silver Beeches,
Green are the crowns of the majestic oak.
The streams run clear singing their song
to the Golden glades, warm and safe,
were elven song again is heard and light feet tread forgotten paths.
A! Eryn Lasgalen!

In the south dwells Celeborn,
East Lorien now he calls his home.
The Northern Realm yet remains, its Doors again opened wide.
Between the mountains and the narrows do the Beornings dwell.
And with their coming the animals return, The skittish Doe, The majestic Stag and even a mighty bear or two.
The Woodmen too survived the darkness and join the Beornings under the eaves.
All that was dark is now made fair, by the labours of the elves.
A! Eryn Lasgalen!

Once again the Elven Wine flows free and the bards sing their songs to Greenwood the great.
Who in the Shadow of Darkness stood never defeated!
And in this new age she shines again the fairest wood in all the land.
A! Eryn Lasgalen!

Taurëwen softly sang this verse of a very long song in the hopes that it would ease her friends heart to learn of the cleansing of their woodland home, she would not sing what went before, for it ached her to much to sing of their loss and the verse that followed was her own and not yet complete.

Her face shone as she sang, it had been long since Taurëwen Taur'ohtar had raised her voice in song, long since she could find words to express anything but sorrow and pain. Slow was the healing of the Great wood, but Taurëwen kept promises long ago made and worked restlessly in it's aid. But with the Greenwood now cleansed she found that something was still missing, she felt incomplete and she had done for some time. After the war she was courted often by the young Bowyers assistant, Orodhrin. But although she had harboured feeling for him before... the mi.... her heart always strayed to another, who had long ago left. one who could not bring himself to look at her without being reminded of all that they had lost.

On the Celebration of the cleansing and the renaming of the Greenwood, Orodhrin had found her in the woods, far from home weeping under a great oak, the glade was the fairest he had ever seen a small silver stream ran through it and pale white flowers carpeted the floor and even the trees seemed to lament her tears. "Taurëwen, why do you weep when all is healed?"
he had asked her, "Not all" was the answer she gave looking at a golden spot close to the stream. "It was here!" he had whispered "Here, that the one named Reynion lost his leg".
"Yes, it was here that I took his pride from him and here also a part of me was lost and never again found in all my labours." she had replied with tear strewn eyes. "You love him," Orodhin had said lifting her head gently in his hands, she had not answered but he saw it clearly and it ached his heart, "Then you must go to him," he had told her and with one last embrace and a soft kiss to her forehead he left bidding her a fond farewell.

So it was that she searched for the one that could make her complete, only to find him in the most unlikeliest of places, The Green Dragon Inn. And now that he was before her she knew not what to say.

[ August 29, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[elf-girl-63]

Nuinyulma yawned. It felt like she had slept for a week but judging by the sun streaming in through the window it had been no more than two hours. She quickly washed her face, enjoying the cool water from the jug and then dressed again.

However, just as she opened the door a young hobbit fell into the room. She had red curly hair and a round face and wore the usual attire of the half-lings. Nuinyulma was quite surprised and gave a small shout.

"Oh, oh. I'm terribly sorry Mistress Elf. Its just... its just, well I wanted to meet you so I followed you up here and sat outside to wait. I must've fallen asleep. And now I've missed second breakfast and will most likely miss lunch. My mam will be ever so angry. By the way, my name is May, May Bracegurtle."

The elven-maid laughed for she had heard of the hobbits' like for food- it was now famous among Middle- Earth. She smiled and held out her hand.

"And my name is Nuinyulma."

[Envinyatar]

Derufin was on the other side of the gable from the ladder. The sun was hot already and he had removed his shirt in an attempt to keep cool, and tied a bandana about his brow. His hammer and crowbar hung from the leather work belt he’d picked up in the stable, as well as a length of measuring cord, and a fat piece of chalk.

Chastised by Cook, he had made his way to the stables, as she directed, to see to the horses. Uien, it appeared, had already taken care of their needs earlier in the day, though, and all he need do was refill their water trough in the exercise pen and add a few forks full of hay to the holders at either end. Falowik and the Elf were nowhere in sight when he finished. And with a resigned sigh, he strapped on the tool belt from the stable's workbench and carried the ladder to the northeastern end of the Inn.

The roof deck on the northern side looked fairly intact on cursory inspection. But that on the south side had a large, sagging area. And when he knelt and pried off the wooden shingles, he could see the deteriorating wood of the substructure. Damaged by rain this past winter and spring, the dampness had crept into the wood and cause a spongy rot to take hold.

He had just loosed all the shingles, and set them aside for inspection later, and was in the midst of measuring the wood needed for the patch, when he heard faint voices from the north side, and the sound of feet moving along the wooden shingles . . .

[ August 30, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

Novardaion is walking through after another night dreaming of his beloved land. He yawns and looks around and is shocked when he sights a face he thought he would never see gain.

"Dynaviir!! You are still alive after all these years no??"

"My friend Novardaion. It has been too many year since we last met."

[Imladris]

"It is not as if my mother and father disappeared," Lira told a bottle of wine as she labeled it and set it aside. "They left for good reason. My father had been wounded in the war and the time of the elves is over: the elves' home is the Valinor. They decided to say goodbye to Middle-earth as they journeyed to the Grey Havens, a journey that would take six or seven years." Lira sighed and paused as her fair blue eyes sought the great outdoors and saw the sun shining and the grass dancing in the wind. "Of course, it's nigh onto eight years since they departed, but when one is travelling plans go awry," she said, trying to talk her worry away. "And of course the message could have miscarried," she suggested to another bottle.

A bird sang sweet and high, and Lira rushed to the entrance of the cellar and strained her eyes to see what kind of bird it was. A dove would bring the message...a tamed dove that Liralwen, her mother, had found injured in the woods. Lira found the bird: a sparrow alighting upon a branch of a nearby tree. Lira's spirits sagged and she turned once more to the cellar and began to sing a song of melancholy.

[Dynaviir]

Dynaviir smiled and sipped Niniel's coffee. He was grateful to see her again. He had missed feeling safe.

"She is fine, thankyou," he said. "Doienwei seems very happy to be here. And I am truly glad of that."

He set down his drink and smiled. "I was wondering, would you like to come to see her again tonight? I am sure she would be very grateful. She likes you a lot." Dynaviir added, in his head, that he liked her too. He felt safe with her, and, though he hadn't seen her for a few days, he had missed her greatly. "I would also like to meet your pony, if you would not mind."

He kept smiling. It was good to have someone to talk too. And it was even more strange for him, since this was only they're second meeting.

He didn't feel pressurised with her. All thoughts of his dreams and distress had softly faded from his mind. He was happy to talk, and happiness was an emotion he felt rarely. He was grateful for it.

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked around, surprised he had been caught unawares.

"Dynaviir!! You are still alive after all these years, no??"

Dynaviir stared in amazement. "My friend Novardaion. It has been too many years since we last met."

Dynaviir turned to Niniel, smiling. "This is my friend, Novardion." He decided to miss out the explanation of who he was, just yet. He looked at Novardion.

"My friend," he said, smiling at Niniel, "this is Niniel, the kindest person I have met yet in these lands. And she is a very good person too. She has been very kind to me and my pony, Doienwei. She is still alive, I am sure you will be pleased to hear." He turned to Niniel and smiled. Somehow, he didn't feel as awkward as he would have done otherwise to see the man, with someone to listen to him across the table.

[littlemanpoet]

The moment had passed. Uien walked by Falowik's side; though he looked ahead toward the stable roof, the lodestone on his periphery had all his awareness. He would treasure that moment for the rest of his days. She had offered him her name, the key to her soul. Uien. Though he had known her name, she was so far above him that it had not been his to use. Then she gave it to him, a gift freely given, nothing required in return. It was not lightly given, nor lightly received; but a lightness filled him with the use of her gift. Uien.

She had laid her hand on his arm to reassure, and stepped into the space between them; he could breathe in the scent of her. The breeze had blown her hair back from her exquisite face, and as he gave his voice into her name, her eyes had closed with pleasure, and slowly opening, showed the desire of her heart.

It was one thing for him to be full of gratitude for her healing touch the night before, for him to treasure her and stoke the Light within her by his adoring words and deeds; it was quite another for her to respond with open hearted love! He had not sought it, had not expected - nay - had not dreamed such a thing could be! It was more than he could have hoped for, and it was too much for him.

Unable to receive all that she offered, he had looked down at her hand resting on his arm. He had raised her hand in his two, wondering if he dared to bring it to his lips. He was not worthy. Last night he had hardly dared to face her, to touch the hand that had rested on his shoulder, warming his heart. She was an Elven lady; surely there were Elven men, even lords, who were more fitting for her. Yet she had deigned to become his Luthien, even though he was no Beren; far from it. Beren had been a warrior, so the legends ran, hunted and lost, never having lost his noble heart and of a great lineage. Falowik was just a poor wanderer, chancily born, born in shame, raised in dishonor by the town at large, for his mother had not survived his birth, and his father was unknown. He was no Beren. Why did she open her heart to him, a mere Man, and at that no better than a stray dog of a man, prettied for the moment by unfamiliar soap and bettered for these passing moments by the gift of herself?

They came to Derufin who was preparing for the chore. Falowik took a moment to put his thought into words, but before he had drawn breath to speak, Uien spoke for them both. Derufin spoke concern of whether Uien was up to the task, which took Falowik by surprise, considering that it had been Derufin's idea in the first place. Falowik caught Derufin's glance his way, and it occurred to Falowik that between breakfast and now, there had been a shift in the balances between Derufin and Uien, and between Derufin and Falowik; yes, Derufin could readily see that the Uien looked at Falowik in a way she had not before. Was Derufin jealous? Falowik could not blame him; this wanderer the upstart, wedging himself into things so quickly. For all Falowik knew, Derufin cared for Uien in ways Falowik had not even considered yet.

Falowik was startled by Uien's willfulness. She had been so warm and soft - and gentle - with him, and now she behaved as one who defies a parent. It was unsettling, at odds with just moments before, and even more at odds with what he had seen in her the night before. Maybe she was a deep, interior, retiring and quiet, yet kind Elf woman under the stars, but vivacious and willful beneath the sun. He knew so little of her!

"Remember now Uien," Derufin was saying, "Try not to throw anything at Falco from the roof." There were more words, but Falowik raised a brow, wondering why Derufin found it needful to say such a thing to her. Was Derufin trying to cast her in a bad light? Then dry sarcasm slipped out of her mouth, and it stunned Falowik, witty as it was. Falco was dense with hobbitish provincialism to be sure, but the disdain that accompanied the words were too like what Falowik had endured in Breeland before he escaped. It was more than unsettling.

"After you," she said to Falowik, and he climbed the ladder ahead of her, realizing that all that had gone between them had been begun by her; not a thing by him. Not one. It was disturbing, and brought on a rain of questions. Why would Uien want to throw shingles at Falco? How could she let such disdain live inside her and at the same time be a Light so pure and cured by whatever suffering she had faced? It made no sense. Or had he seen wrong last night, and been wrong about what she had done for him? Was she enchanting him? There were stories about Elven maidens and Men, not all so high and grand as that of Beren and Luthien. He looked at her with new eyes as she and Derufin joined him on the roof.

He busied his hands with the task of shingling while his thought was busy with questions. Uien kept close to him, as if she needed to be close to him, even while working at something so mundane as shingling. Was it out of need to be with him for who he was, or was it to keep an enchantment in force?

Stop it, old man! You have no cause to think such misthoughts of her. He needed answers, but did not want to offend. He sifted among his many questions and found the one least threatening; perhaps it would lead to other answers. He would have to do so soon, for Derufin had said that the mid day meal would be coming not long after they began their work.

"What means this name, Laurëatan, Uien? I like the sound of it, but I would know what it means."

[ August 29, 2003: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Once again the Elven Wine flows free and the bards sing their songs to Greenwood the great.
Who in the Shadow of Darkness stood never defeated!
And in this new age she shines again the fairest wood in all the land.
A! Eryn Lasgalen!

Reynion drank in every nuance of Taurewen's face and posture. He felt sure that she would leave this place soon, and he would again be alone. He was determined to etch her face into his memory, so that in the dark nights he would have something to cling to, when the nightmares pressed in from all sides and he dared not close his eyes for fear of what he would see and feel. Her voice washed over him in a fall of liquid silver, taking him back to the days when he lived alone and content in the middle of Greenwood. When it was so easy to watch her from the trees without being seen.

He smiled, a real smile of joy and not of half-forced mirth, for the first time since he had left Mirkwood, years and years ago. He wondered why her mere presence could lighten his heart, when before all he could see was the terrible day he had lost all dignity as well as his leg. That day he remembered as the worst day in his entire life.

He reached out a trembling hand, and brushed Taurëwen's cheek, tracing the scar that marred her otherwise smooth skin. He wondered if she remembered that ill-fated mission as badly as he did, but he didn't ask. He knew how those memories could hurt, perhaps better than any of the other elves who'd gone. Some had died, others were wounded, though it seemed that none had been as stupid about their wounds as had he.

Her cheek was damp, and he drew back his hand, afraid that he had caused her tears. He wondered, sometimes, if she had ever joined up with Orodhin. He knew that she had once had some sort of feelings for the bowyer's son. Now, he thought he knew the answer to that particular question. If she had loved Orodhin, she would be by his side now, not sitting here in the Shire, facing the half-elf, as some of the more cruel Men in the lands outside of Greenwood had called him, a play on the well-known Lord Elrond Half-Elven and on Reynion's missing leg. He had to admit that he had felt like only half an elf since it was gone anyway.

His own cheek was not precisely dry, he suddenly realized and looked away, embarrassed. He hated to show weakness of any kind.

For a few moments, neither said anything. He tried to smile, and felt that he failed miserably. He felt rather miserable. "Taurëwen," he began.

"Yes?" she responded, looking hopeful.

"I-I—well, I—you—" Good Valar, he was stuttering like an idiot. He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "I, well, I suppose—I want—Dear Eru, I missed you so much!" He looked down. Now she would laugh because he sounded so stupid, and he would get drunk again, and he would be alone again. Just the way he'd always been, even when he'd left the forest for the halls of Thranduil.

____________________________________________

Niniel smiled back at Dynaviir shyly. As usual, she was uncomfortable with this stranger, though meeting strangers seemed to have become a habit of late. Soronume, Elwen, Dorelnar, Mardath, Dynaviir and now Novardaion. Soon she would know as many people as there were years missing from her life. Perhaps that would be a good thing.

"G-g-g-good d-d-day to you, Master Nov-Novar-Novardaion. M-m-may I-I-I ask how i-i-it is th-th-that you kn-n-now Dynaviir?" she asked, still annoyed that she couldn't get a word out without sounding like an absolute idiot. It wasn't nerves, it wasn't fear, she just couldn't talk right.

She wished she could remember what her life before she was sixteen had been like. It would be nice to know if she'd met someone before after all. And she wished that she knew what her parents were like, but...it was no use dwelling on such things. Besides, it was too nice a day to brood.

[Envinyatar]

Derufin crouched down, peering into the gaping hole he had made with the crowbar. The sun was creeping past noon, and he calculated quickly how much of the repair could be gotten done by supper. He swiped his forearm across his forehead where the beads of sweat crept out from beneath the already wet bandana. ‘I could do this the easy way,’ he said, examining the extent of the problem, ‘and just put a quick patch across the planks I’ve removed.’ He rubbed the side of his jaw and considered the outcome. Cook would be satisfied and would no longer hound him about this task. The patch, done well, would hold at least through the winter and spring, though eventually it would break down, and he would be up here once again within a year’s time.

‘May as well do it right, now, rather than later’’ he grunted to himself, ripping up another section of the wooden sheeting that covered this section of trusses. ‘The preparatory work’s almost done, and Cook will hold a plate for me if I miss a meal.’ He stood up and picked his way carefully down to the south side eaves. Beren was there, working in the garden.

‘Oy! Beren!’ The man looked up, shading his eyes against the sun, to where Derufin stood waving at him. Derufin cupped his hands round his mouth and asked him to set up the other long ladder. ‘And bring up that stack of wide thin planks there, and the rip saw, if you will.’ Several trips later, the materials and tools needed were stacked nearby for use. Beren said he would be back in a while with a skin of cool water and would ask Cook for some sandwiches to bring up to him.

Derufin measured the lengths needed, and cut them to fit across the trusses, fitting them tightly against one another as he went along. Once done with this, he would seal them where they joined with a resinous compound and then shingle over them the next day when the sealant had dried. Part of the damaged area was over the dormer that extended out from the attic room proper, the ridge of it had started leaking. Once repaired, he would need to put a copper flashing over the ridge seam. ‘Best add that to the list,’ he told himself. Flashing would be needed to cover all the seams where joints occurred.

From the sounds of the hammers and the murmurings of words between the Elf and Man on the north side of the roof, Derufin guessed that the work there was going easily and apace. He was pleased that Uien had found someone with whom she felt free enough to speak, someone with whom she at least felt on an equal footing.

He well understood the unvoiced need for that simple solace of exchanging words and having the layers of meanings that lay beneath them understood in the process . . . and beyond the understanding . . . accepted. It had only been a few months ago his own reserve had been breached by chance. A flood of memories came pouring into his thoughts, and he wondered if Uien felt as raw and unprotected, as defenseless as he had. It was slippery going, as he well remembered, when the ground shook and heaved beneath the feet and the path so well defined and understood became suddenly unfamiliar and at times frightening.

The rise and fall of his hammer in a steady rhythm turned his thoughts to the person with whom she had chosen to risk this reaching out. Falowik. Somewhat of a cipher, he thought. And he wondered if she had chosen wisely. Fitting another board against the last one he had secured to the trusses, he chided himself for the direction of his thoughts. Uien was a friend. Should she need his advice she would seek his counsel. And he would give it.

But in the end, the choices in the matter would be hers alone to make and to live with.

Beren returned, bringing the water and a large napkin holding a hefty lunch made up by Cook. Derufin accepted the water gratefully, and put the bundled food in the shadow of the dormer’s overhanging eaves for later. His thoughts returned to the task at hand, and he left the Elf and Man to sort out the space between them on their own.

[Gorothlammothiel]

Soronume had been absent of the inn of late, though not the Shire. When he had left his table briefly, Niniel seemed to have made new company with as fair a maiden as herself, and seemed quite content with she, despite her somewhat introverted self. Soronume had thought it best to leave her, for a while, and since the departure of his own aquaintance, had taken Salixrana off from the village.

Day and night had passed, several times by Soronume's reckoning, though that had not bothered him. He would walk or ride by day then rest under the moonlit sky looking upon the stars.

It was far past night now and the sun of mid-day was slowly moving across the sky. Tredding back the worn paths to the inn kicking the dust up with the toe of his scuffed boots, Soronume was contemplating what it was that kept bringing him back here. He didn't take him long to realise.

A young woman rushed past him as he stepped inside, causing Soronume to fall back on his step. Supporting himself with his hand against the thick wooden beam of the doorframe he righted himself, and quickly moved out of the way. Brushing hair from his face he glanced across the room for familiar faces. The Lady Elwen and her companion it seemed had departed in his absence, but Niniel remained. However not in the company he had left her with. Men this time.

He walked over, his footfall hardly creating a sound to be heard. Placing a hand out he touched Niniel on the shoulder, "Pardon the intrusion m'lady." Niniel started at this, almost losing grip of the drink she held tightly in her hands. Soronume quickly drew back his hand. Niniel turned to him, but did not recognise his face for it was hidden in shadow.

The man sat with the lady Niniel drew closer to the table and was ready to make some comment, unsavoury as was more likely. Soronume stepped back, and in doing so his hood fell to his shoulders and his dark hair fell loose about his face. "I'm sorry m'lady, I did not meant to startle you."

[elf-girl-63]

The elf and the hobbit walked slowly down the stairs talking of news from the outside world such as the new King and his bride and other such matters. Finally the chatter turned to Nuinyulma herself.

"Where do you come from Nuinyulma? You have spoken little of your life and I'm keen to hear it. How I'd love to journey around Middle-Earth and see the ancient Fangorn Forest or the White Tree in Gondor."

Nuinyulma was reluctant to speak of her unhappy past but May was so keen- it could be seen in her eyes.

"I come from The Wood of Green Leaves but I left long ago and have ever since wandered by myself visiting the places you have mentioned; meeting many interesting people, races and creatures."

"I wish so much I was you and to meet King Elessar and Arwen Undomiel. I heard there wedding was beautiful. And that all the Fellowship were there."

Nuinyulma fell silent. She wished she wasn't herself but she couldn't tell May why. It would shatter her dreams. Instead she turned the conversation to the wedding.

"The wedding was beautiful. I was there and so were many others- Elrond, Galadriel, rangers and of course the Fellowship. That Age is over now and so is our journey down the stairs. It was nice to meet you May but I would guess you should go home."

May sighed but agreed she should go and left quickly waving as she closed the inn door behind her. Nuinyulma smiled and went over to the bar.

"Some water please Ruby and I wish to buy a horse- do you think you could help me?"

The bar-maid nodded and brought a cool glass over to Nuinyulma's seat by the window. She thanked Ruby and slowly sipped the drink. Occasionally she saw elves she thought she recognised but soon realised she was sadly mistaken.

[Tinuviel of Denton]

Niniel jumped as a hand was laid on her shoulder. "Pardon the intrusion, m'lady," said a vaguely familiar voice. She turned, but the man's face was in shadow and she could only see his eyes. Dynaviir looked fairly nervous as well. The stranger stepped back and his hood fell back. It was Soronume, and Niniel silently breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry, m'lady. I didn't mean to startle you."

"I-i-it's all right. W-w-won't you j-j-join us?" she asked, gesturing to a seat on her other side, between Novardaion and herself. Again she was struck by the incredible wisdom in his eyes and felt anew the old feelings of infatuation with the handsome elf. He had lost at least as much as she had...but then, so had Dynaviir, if what she had gleaned from his conversation were true, and he had no reason to lie.

"Th-th-this is Soronume," she explained to Dynaviir. "A-a-and th-th-this is Dynaviir, and th-th-that is Novardaion," she added, pointing each man out for Soronume's benefit. She was far more comfortable than she had been when she first arrived in the Shire, especially with these two, Soronume and Dynaviir. Both were kind and welcoming, and neither ridiculed her stutter. She had yet to come to a conclusion about Novardaion.

[Imladris]

Lira leaned back and tried to ignore the achy feeling inside her head. Her whitish blondish hair fell into her eyes and she began to plait the long tresses into a myriad of braids and, taking several pins that were hidden in a small pocket, she began to entwine them about her head until it looked as if she wore a crown.

She continued to label the wines and she noted with an air of smug satisfaction that the deed was nearly done. She had worked long hours in the pleasant dim gloominess of the cellar, and she was happy. Lira wondered what sort of person Piosennial was, the former innkeeper. Obviously one that was greatly beloved, or so much work would not be done in her honor. A smile grew upon Lira's face and she immediately continued to label the wines with renewed vigor. Looking again at the rows and rows of wine, Lira said, "Well, maybe the worls 'almost done' are not the exact words...there are a great many left to label." A smile grew upon her face as she thought of the joy, often experianced as drunken ectasies, that the inn would have with these fine bottles of liquor.

[Nerindel]

Taurëwen felt herself tremble at his touch, tears fell softly down her cheek as she came to the realisation that her love may not be unrequited as she had always feared. As she closed her eyes to savour the moment Reynion suddenly pulled his hand away, her eyes opened fearful that something was wrong. She saw tears running down his cheek as he again turned away from her. 'It still haunts him and I will always be a reminder of those dark times, I'm I wrong to come?' she thought sadly to herself.

But as she was about to find an excuse to leave before she could pain him more, he spoke her name "Taurëwen," he said try to smile through his pain, "Yes?" she replied hopeful that she need not leave, that he wanted her to stay. She sat Patiently as he tried to get out what he wanted to say "Dear Eru, I missed you so much!" he eventually exclaimed, his cheeks reddening as he looked down to the long empty cup on the table.

*"Ar amin lle, Melamin" she smiled, tears of happiness freely falling down her soft cheeks, she lifted his head so he could see that her words were true and not in jest. The rest of the common room seemed to disappear as she sat locked in his gaze 'please say something' she silently prayed hoping that she had not mistaken the meaning of his words.

-----------------------------
*Ar amin lle, Melamin - And I you, my love.

[ August 31, 2003: Message edited by: Nerindel ]

[Esgallhugwen]

The soup was basically done for lunch, the cookies were set out, and Buttercup had finished with the refreshing of the pots. Esgallhugwen had told Cook all was ready for the noon meal and that she would be outside in the garden if she was further needed.

She took off the apron noticing an Elf at the bar drinking some water, Esgallhugwen smiled at her though she knew her not and went down stairs to the wine cellar. Her pendant danced upon her chest as she floated gracefully down the steps 'mellon' she smiled at Lira and held up her hand in greeting.

'If you are hungry I made soup for lunch by Cook's request, and there are cookies, but I didn't make them but they are quite delicious' Lira seemed deep in thought she still smiled at hearing that lunch was set. 'I'll be outside, if you need me' Esgallhugwen went up the stairs and out the Inn door noticing a few more guests and that Reynion now had a lady friend with him.

She drifted past Dynavir, thoughts of her own swam in her head 'fire' she muttered again, her auburn hair sprayed with gold by the sun's warm rays.

Outside she sat under a tree, flowers of many colours strayed from the garden and flower pots to be under the tree. A bumble-bee came by buzzing clumsingly around the flowers, stopping every so often to take what he needed from them. A breeze picked up shimmering the green leaves casting wavy shadows on the rich soft grass.

Esgallhugwen gazed down at the bee lovingly the fuzzy plumpness of it's body seemed to reflect gold and jet whenever he bumbled into a pocket of the sun's light. She loved the night as most Elves do but the day had it's own beauty and song to listen to.

Novardaion smiles at Niniel. He realises that as he is the outsidere he should answer questions.

"My fair lady Niniel, I cannont remember when I met Dynaviir but we have travelled together many a time after I left the golden wood... Many a time...."

Realising that he may have given out to much information he looks around nervously.

"Well Dynaviir what are you doing in this area? Last I heard you were quite some distance away from here"

[*Arwen*]

Check your PM's please

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