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Minas Tirith Forums » The Green Dragon » The Pen and Parchment Inn (Page 3)
Author Topic: The Pen and Parchment Inn
Nehraime
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 2470

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"Is that your story, or something else? I would love to read it if i can." Fiyold said, observing Neela. "Oh dear. Looks like eveyone has gone to bed right now. Drat it, i dont even feel tired."
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The Swordmaster
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1302

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"NO this is not my novel, I often find that if I am having trouble writing one thing the best thing I can do is to try something else."
She looked down at the parchement in her hands.
"This is a new story about a young knight who in a battle against an invading army ends up protecting the fallen king, with his last dying breath the king charges the young knight with a quest, he must flee the city and warn the other nearby kingdoms of the army of dark knights. But he is little more than a child, only just reached maturity and he discovers much about himself along the way."

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Nehraime
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Citizen # 2470

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"That sounds quite like something i would love to read! I always have loved fantasy books, two which i enjoyed alot when i was younger were I am Mordred and The Lost Years of Merlin, which is one book in a seires that irelaly enjoyed. I often do the same as you in writing, but it always results in a couple of pages which i then get stuck on as well." Fiyold said.
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The Swordmaster
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1302

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Neela looked around sadly at the empty inn, her heart heavy. Were there no writers left in the world? Had the imagination truly given way to the monotomy of real life. She sat qietly for a few moments and then stood up and circled the room lighting candles as she went. She stoked up the glowing embers of the fire, adding fuel until a great blaze burned in the fireplace.
She settled back down and pulled a piece of parchment towards her, prehaps she would write a new tale, one in which the world was left without the magic of storytelling.

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Roll of Honor Lugbúrz
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 867

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A tall visitor stepped into the establishment. He wore a hooded cloak of the colour of the sea. It seemed to change its hue from blue to green and then to grey, much as the ocean. His face was shrouded by the hood but there shone a glint of silver on his forehead, and it appeared like he was wearing a silver crown under the hood, but then it was not so ample. He wore boots that seemed to have treaded many leagues and on his shoulder was slung a bow and a quiver of arrows, but also beneath his cloak was a scabbard peeping out embellished with golden lace.

His name very few people new, not even all his friends. But most thought him a Ranger and he was called Stranger.

"I am looking for Neela, a friend of mine," he said, to nobody in particular.

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Elbereth
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Citizen # 481
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A tall woman, clad all in black leather, rose from a table in the corner and appraoched the stranger:
"I am Kora," the woman intorduced herself in a deep, husky voice, "an friend of Neela's, we have travelled on many long journey's together, ever she is at my side. Not now however, she has stepped out on a mission of her own." she paused for a moment, "May I help?"

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The Swordmaster
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1302

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Neela pushed the door of her Inn, forcing it to open despite the dust and such that had gathered behind the door in her long absense. She lit the fire quickly and turned with a sad sigh to look around at the Inn she loved so much.
"Do none in Minas Tirith write anymore?" She said softly to herself. "Once this Inn was full of aspiring writers, sharing their work, and their love of the written word. Do none now remain?"
She sighed again and picked up a broom from one of the corners and began to sweep the floor.

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Roll of Honor Braeden Fireheart
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1953

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There was at least one in Minas Tirith who still composed her own stories… Braeden Fireheart sat in a corner of the inn she most frequented in the days of late, and scribbled down a few ideas. Looking up, she watched the other patrons as they sipped their tea, casually spoke Quenya – a language Braeden could not translate very well – and discussed strangely important matters like paintings and plays…

Braeden turned back to her story; the fantasy novel she had been so unable to get a hang of last time she was a part of the Pen & Parchment Inn. Braeden remembered her times there; the discussions she had with Neela, Lillianna and Nehraime. The charming little place wasn’t visited much these days, and Braeden thought this a sad thing indeed, for it was a great asset to the White City.

As she finished off Chapter Seven of her novel, the woman smiled with relief and drank her glass of water. Taking a few pins from her leather pouch, Braeden stood up and attached the latest scene of her book to the notice board of the Opelë. She turned and announced, “Latest scene is up.”

Many of the crowd raced to the board and began reading what she had just written. Braeden grinned, “Well, I’ll be going now. I’ve decided to check out an old haunt.” Not knowing whether anybody had heard her, the woman strolled out of the Opelë and wandered down the city streets, making her way to the Pen & Parchment Inn.

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The Swordmaster
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1302

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Neela had finished cleaning up the Inn, the dusty tables had been wiped down and new candles had been lit. She wandered behind the bar, and cracking open a barrel of ale, filled a tankard.
She crossed back over to her favourite table near the fire and pulled her pack towards her. As she began to unpack it, she thought of the last few dark months, when she had left Minas Tirith in search of the ispiration to finish her novel.
The last thing she pulled out of her pack was a thick pile of parchment tied together by a frayed piece of string. Finished she thought with a sigh. The last 'i' had been dotted, the last 't' crossed, of course there was much editing to be done, and she had no doubt that she would still rewrite sections of it many more times before she was completely satisfied.
She glanced up at the door to the Inn. She had propped it open in the hopes that more people would realised that she was open for business once again.
Would anyone come?

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Roll of Honor Mandin
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 415

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Neela, in all her cleaning, had missed one corner...a very dusty corner...a very dusty corner. And under all the dust was a hat. Mandin's hat, actually, as magic a hat as you could wish to meet, though it had slept without doing much for many months. Suddenly, the hat stirred. No, not of itself, but because of something wriggling about inside it.
Then out stepped Mandin.
Don't ask me how a full sized man can step out of a hat that fits snuggly on his head, but I tell you the truth nonethless.
"Good morning, Neela," said Mandin cheerily. He picked up his hat and dusted it off rigorously. Then, he placed it on his head, replaced his cheerful, tired expression with one of cheerful satisfaction, and took a seat.
"Have you got any food and drink?" He asked.

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Roll of Honor Mandin
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 415

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Suddenly, Mandin realized he was double posting, and he turned red all over for shame. "Ah well, what's the use," he said, sinking lower in his chair, but then he sprang up to his feet. "I'm afraid I can't be staying, though I would love to discuss writing sometime or other in this fine inn. As it stands, I'm needed elsewhere. At least, so would suggest my hat."
With that, Mandin ran out of the inn, and so hastily did he tear off down the white chalk path that he forgot to close the door behind him, and a quizical toad hopped in, peered about her, and then settled in the cool shade beneath a bench.

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Roll of Honor Lillianna
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1843

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Somewhere in a small room that was filled to full occupancy of three people (indeed, one may wonder how three people could even fill such a small room as this one), there was buried underneath a pile of redmarked papers a living person. A hand stretched out, as though searching for something to cling to and then a head popped up, followed by a gasp for air.

"I'm dying in this state. Where is there ever time for real inspiration when it hits? What will stop the flow of papers, papers, papers????"

As she lay there muddled and confused and cramped in her tiny space, she noticed the open window to her right. It had a marvelous view, which surprised her - she had been too busy to see it before. (Or maybe it was just that the papers had clouded her vision) At any rate, she was mesmorized by it....it seemed to remind her of something. In the cornor of the view lay a house - nay - a inn. She smiled.

"Of course." She said simply, and she suddenly had the strength to get up, brush off the clinging papers and head out the door. (But not without forgetting a most important instrument - a pen)

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The Swordmaster
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1302

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Neela sat quietly, the stack of parchment in front of her, and a green inked pen in her hand. She slowly turned page after page, crossing the odd thing out or adding the odd word.
She happened to glance up as she brushed her hair out of her eyes and was astounded to see that people were walking down the path towards her Inn. Was she really going to have guests once again?

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Roll of Honor Lillianna
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1843

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It was like a dream. A sad, lethargic, but frightening dream all at the same time. She went walking along the path towards the inn, thinking of course that it would lead straight there. But it was not so. It meandered and wandered and fritted away as if there was all the time in the world, and she did not even realize this until it was well into the later evening! She didn't even know where she was headed now, but it was definitely not towards the inn.

"Of all the preposterous, ill suited methods of travel!" She proclaimed, glaring at the path as if it had a mind of its own. With a pause she lifted her skirts and pivoted around to head back into the direction she had intended to head. She got to the front door of the inn and noticed cobwebs around the top of it.

"Oh dear" she muttered, "has it been that long?" Holding the pen in her right hand she knocked with her left and then waited, taping her heels for luck...

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The Swordmaster
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1302

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Neela sat up with a start, had that been a knock on the door. She rose to her feet, straightening her skirts and her hair, and then moved to pull open the door.
"Welcome", she cried with delight, "Welcome back to the Pen and Parchment Inn."

[ 04-29-2004, 04:42 AM: Message edited by: The Swordmaster ]

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Roll of Honor Lillianna
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1843

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Lillianna smiled at the innkeeper. Her face was very familiar now.

"Hello again. Or is it again? I feel I have been here....yes...yes of course I have. Why would I come back now if I was not?"

She stepped inside and noticed the cobwebs around the doors and the walls.

"Do you need any help?"

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The Swordmaster
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1302

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It seemed that Neela was alone again, not that she blamed her old patrons, for she had been gone for many months, and had only just returned to the fair city of Minas Tirith, and had spent many hours searching for the inn she had once run, for it had slipped behind many layers of vegetation that had sprung up in her absence.
But she had found it at long last, as hidden as it was, and now she sat silent, looking around her at the dusty tables and filthy bar. A slight smile crossed her lips as she thought back to the many hours she had spent in that inn, when it had been full of conversation and laughter, when she had discussed her love of writing with others who shared that love. Yet now she was alone, none came now to the inn, to tell of thier stories.
She looked down at the stack of parchment on the table in front of her. Completed , she thought to herself. I've finally finished it. My first novel. Yet there are none to discuss it with, none to share any wisdom they may have about publishing, or editing She sighed heavily and pulling a piece of parchment towards her, she began to write, the second book of her trilogy. Perhaps some people will come when they see the bright fire in the grate, and the flickering candlelight. Perhaps some of her old friends will return.

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Roll of Honor Lillianna
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1843

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Lillianna could hear the sound of sighing distantly. She moved to where she thought it came from and there saw Neela with a huge pile of parchment on her lap. Lillianna's eyes grew large.

"Is that....your novel??? Please, please tell me about it! When did you finish it? How hard was it? Did you have an outline? Oh, I wish I could finish something!" []

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The Swordmaster
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1302

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Neela looked up from the piece of parchment in front of her and saw Lilliana looking down at her. She smiled and nodded in response to the girl's question.
"Yes this is my novel, and yes it's finally finished, although I'm sure I will edit it a hundred times more before I'm satisfied with it." She sighed slightly, "It was difficult, finishing it I mean. I knew what I wanted to have happen, most of the chapters were planned out and the like, but actually getting it all down on paper sometimes took an awful lot of effort. Sometimes bits of it just wouldn't work properly, at one point I had to leave an entire chapter and skip ahead because I had serious writers block when it came to the entrance of one of my main characters. I went back to it long after I'd finished the rest of the book, and I've only just managed to get it to work."
She paused taking a deep breath, "I know what you mean though about trying to actually finish something. Until this story, everything I've ever written has sort of trailed off rather than actually been finished. Are you in the process of writing something yourself? What's it about? How far along are you?"

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Eledhsúle
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Citizen # 1980

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Taria looked around, the street she walking along was long but not as wide as the other streets she had come cross. She stopped then seeing an Inn. But it wasn't similar to others she had passed with no interest, this one was welcoming... welcoming writers it seemed.

Taria gave out a slight smile, and tucked a stray brown hair back behind her ear, she took her bag off her back and slightly stroke the head of the ferret that sat still on her shoulder.

"I say we go in, and have a look, maybe it's place where we can find some rest." Taria looked at the ferret, that looked straight back at her. "Yes, in, it is." She said as she opened the door and walked in.

The place looked warm and it had a nice feel of home to it, she soon found herself a place to sit by the fire.

"It looks rather nice doesn't it?" She gave the ferret a look and smiled again. "Yes, I was thinking that too."

The ferret sniffed the air; rather nice indeed, now where is the food?

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The Swordmaster
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1302

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Neela stepped out of the kitchens and started with surprise, there was someone in her inn. No one had been in for ages.
She smiled widely in greeting, "Hello. Welcome to the Pen and Parchment Inn, a place for those who love to write to meet and discuss thier work. Are you a writer?"

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Eledhsúle
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Citizen # 1980

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Taria stood up swiftly as good manners requested.

"Well, hello... Yes, I am a writer. I have just come from the North. I was searching for inspiration..." She said and stroked the ferret's head again softly. "There are many strange things in the North. Many odd meetings take place there."

My friend here was ineterted in finding something to eat, you wouldn't happen to have something here, we've walked long and we are both very hungry.

Taria then sharply looked at the ferret. Then she turned back to Neela with shy smile.

"Where are my manners?I'm Taria..." She then nodded towards the ferret. "This is my muse... he followed and befriended me in the North. He is quite tame but bad tempered." She looked around. "You must be writer yourself to have build such a place? Do I know your work?"

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The Swordmaster
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1302

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Neela smiled and bustled around bringing the woman a plate of food and something to drink before answering her questions.

"Yes I'm a writer, I've been writing little stories and the like for as long as I can remember, as for having seen any of my work, I wouldn't ahve thought so. I'm not published, although perhaps soon," she waved one hand towards the pile of parchment on one of the tables, her completed novel. "You never know, I've had some interest shown in it recently, but no offers as yet." She smiled again, "However if you look around in the Green Dragon you'll find examples of my work, I've contributed to many a story in there. I find it a wonderful way to escape from writers block, or simply to get the creative juices flowing."
She rose briefly from her seat to get a drink and returned swiftly, "Tell me, what sort of thing do you write? Poems? Short stories? Or novels? And in what genre?"

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Roll of Honor Braeden Fireheart
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1953

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It was well and truly many months since she had last stood there. If five can equal many, then yes it was true. Braeden looked at the sign for a few more minutes, wondering if the other patrons she had known were still visiting, or if perhaps they too had forgotten about The Pen & Parchment Inn. Slowly, Braeden moved towards the door and crept inside.

Her eyes widened, and she smiled as she saw the innkeeper Neela speaking to a young woman with a ferret upon her shoulder. Braeden lightly knocked on the door and uttered her greeting, "A prodigal daughter returns; nearly fifteen chapters into my trilogy, and attempting to outline the background and history to the story. It is a difficult task, but it is fast becoming the main thing I am interested in."

From: Mnemosyne's loft | Registered: Mar 2002  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
The Swordmaster
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1302

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Neela turned around, a wide smile on her lips, "Welcome back, it is good to see old friends once more in my Inn." She gestured for her to take a seat.
"Tell me more about your work? Is it a fantasy? How much more do you have to write?"

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