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Minas Tirith Forums » The Green Dragon » The Lost Inn (Page 5)
Author Topic: The Lost Inn
Roll of Honor Varnafindë
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 4097

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"I don't know why they waited so long before acting," Barufiniel sighed. "Nor did my father, who told me all this. But in the end, they did no longer withhold mercy from the Exiles. After the War of Wrath, those who were willing to ask pardon, was granted it, and scores of our people went back to Valinor. In my own days, Eldar who finally grow weary of Middle-earth are allowed to take ship and sail back. The grey ships often leave the Grey Havens."
From: Narnia, also connected with Norway | Registered: Dec 2003  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Roll of Honor Braeden Fireheart
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1953

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Lóridrê listened to Barufiniel's words with admiration. She had heard much of the stories herself, either from her father or Lord Elrond. Yet knowing the history and being a part of the history were two different things – now that she knew who she was admist the elven clans. Though little she participated in all that Barufiniel said, Lóridrê was a great witness to it. The War of Wrath, especially. She was but a child when it all happened, but she could still remember avoiding the quakes in the earth and fleeing across Ered Lindon. It was possibly good fortune that she did not witness the death of her father to Morgoth's orcs who had likely taken the same route of escape. Yet at the same time, she did not get a chance to say goodbye...

Lóridrê wondered if this was why she had come here now. She turned back to her father, and he was looking at her as if he recognised her. Lóridrê knew then that she had to speak with him. As Barufiniel told of the Grey Havens and the elves who had grown weary of Middle-earth, Lóridrê looked to Finamatírë and smiled.

“My name is Lóridrê. My mother, Olsari, left Middle-earth for Valinor not long ago. Perhaps, as the ages go by, you will meet her some day.” The Nando rose from her seat, “I am not leaving the inn, but I must speak with someone across the room. Please excuse me.”

At that, she bowed her head and left the table.

[ 07-30-2012, 02:04 PM: Message edited by: Braeden Fireheart ]

From: Mnemosyne's loft | Registered: Mar 2002  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Hamfast Gamgee
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 5528

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Whitesnake gave a little smile and wave at the Elven lady that had just left the table. But he felt a few words here where in order.

'Hello, greetings all newcomers, brilliant craftself Feanor, strange, golden-haired elf, and hello to you that have just left the table with something a little bit odd about you.

'Now then. I may be a mere second-born, but I know something about this Inn, so I believe explanations may be in order. This is a place that exists independently of the normal time/space continuimum. What this means that anyone can enter it from any point in time and meet anyone else from a different point of time.

'Past or future. I have been here many few times and have met a variety of interesting and, yes, not so interesting people of various sorts from time. 'Mind you, when I say indepedent of the time/space continuimum, I mean it. This place doesn't always even run the same time-stream as maybe it's patrons do. What I mean by that is that I can come here tomorrow for me and find that for this Inn it is a few years ago. Or a few years in the future. Makes for some very interesting conversations, I can tell you.

'Pure time-travel is a lot more complex that certain people would have you believe. Now is that all clear?
Whitesnake smiled with more than a touch of irony. He did realize that his explanation was somewhat less that clear. But to be fair, it was rather hard to explain the nature of the Inn. One normally just had to experience it to understand it. And that's in the common-tongue. There isn't really a literal transalation in Quenya of space-time continimum!

But Whitesnake continued unabast, 'My name is Edward Whitesnake to those of you that are interested. Ask around, some people know me.' What Whitesnake didn't add that some people knew him as, 'That b****rd Whitesnake.' But he didn't really mind if they did. People didn't necessarily like him, but he was generally treated with respect. 'I am from the year 2063 of the third age. I am a controller of many lands to the south and west of what you might know as Mirkwood. I also would like a drink. Am I paying for this round, or do any of you immortals actually have money?'

[ 03-31-2008, 12:18 PM: Message edited by: Hamfast Gamgee ]

From: Bagshot Row, Hobbiton, The Shire! | Registered: Sep 2006  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Gandalf the Grey
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1090

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What better place to seek directions than The Lost Inn? A Man who sounded like he knew what he was talking about was inside. And clear Elvish voices carried on a westerly spring wind. Encouraged, the ghostly light feet of Daerohil skipped across the new green promise of grass. Until he was stopped short by an age-old pain that this time came as a surprise.

The invisible force field surrounding the grounds of Castle Maladil to keep him prisoner, the boy had gotten used to that. This was a similar feeling, only it seemed to be pulling him in rather than keeping him in, and he even thought he could hear his old master's shrieks, which should have been impossible since Lord Maladil had been consigned to the Void. Daerohil swayed with dizziness ...

A more immediately real sound approached, of fast heavy galloping. A towering black horse blocked the Elvish ghost's path. In this current year of 3003 of the Third Age, some would have seen a Ringwraith's steed, now riderless. Daerohil further recognized the horse as Midnight, given his freedom by Mithrandir after a tragic attempt to steal the horse had been made by Calimiel, daughter of Maladil and no less a villain than her father.

Midnight snorted and began grazing, pulling up all the best new grass while edging the Elf backwards. Daerohil even after all these years reached out towards the solidness of the horse, only to have his ethereal hand pass through. Having been trained by the ever-fading Black Riders, Midnight did not flinch.

"Aw, but I want to talk to them, those inside the Inn!" protested Daerohil. Feeling the strength of his spirit returning, Daerohil stooped and began collecting pebbles, just like he used to do to help drive off Orcs from the Castle boundaries so they wouldn't steal his master's treasure. Only now, it would be the windows of the Lost Inn that would make an excellent target. He had to get the attention of the people inside some way.

It took four stone's throws to properly rattle the windows. At long last, one of the windows creaked open, and someone peered out.

Anyone choosing to look out the windows of The Lost Inn would have seen the shimmering, flickering pale form of a small Elf child waving both arms in the air in greeting. "Too many years in between ... Can't come inside ... Hail and Well Met, good masters, ladies, and friends! I am Daerohil, long lost."

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Amárië
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 5498

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Fëanáro had grown bored with the talk at the table - it was not enough to occupy his racing mind. Without caring how rude he seemed, he rose, pushing his chair in - just as a pebble hit the window. Turning his head quickly, he was facing the window when yet another pebble hit it.

He threw open the window and glared out at the small wraith-like creature that stood there.

His face blanked. It was a child, or so it seemed. As the father of seven, he had a soft-spot for children, and his harsh countenance softened somewhat as he headed for the door and joined the boy outside.

He addressed him in soft Quenya.

'Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo. Why are you here, little one?'

From: Mishawaka, IN | Registered: Aug 2006  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Gandalf the Grey
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 1090

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Daerohil turned a playful somersault in celebration of the open window, and jumped up in a flash when the door opened. On seeing the regal Elf stride into view, the ghostly boy's jaw dropped slightly from a first broad smile, and he held himself straighter. Out of all the Elves in Middle Earth, this one somehow, was Maladil's kin, right down to the way he carried his sword. ... Out of all the Elves whom he could have approached to ask for help, what sort of a fate was this?

But the speech of this tall one who had come outside the Inn specially to meet him was gentle, and that was a comfort. The Quenya accent was familiar to the lowborn Silvan Elf whose family came from hunters and farmers and healers, tenders of animals and trees, for Master Maladil had placed great importance on keeping the ancient speech alive and revered. So a star shone on the hour of their meeting ... there was kindness here.

The small shimmering form bowed low with a graceful flourish, returning greetings in Quenya. "Daerohil, formerly of Laurëondo and born at Imladris to humble wood folk in the Second Age, at your service, noble master. What is your name, if it is permitted to know? I have no treasure nor weapon, but can tend any horse of yours that would need it, as long as I do not step over the boundaries of cursed land off limits to me in my plight, as it appears this Lost Inn stands on. What I seek is a way to Valinor, and am told there is a ship at the Grey Havens, but not to dawdle. Only, I don't know where it is. Oh, and this black horse here, Midnight, is a free creature granted his freedom like me, so if anyone tries to take him by force, then I must fight to save him, because the newly freed must stick together in friendship."

Daerohil quaked a bit at his last sentence, but managed to remain standing and could even still smile with respectful wonder at the elder Elf before him, behind which smile was the joy of being able to see a bit of the wide world before hopefully reaching his goal to sail from it.

Midnight gave an unceremonious grunt. Looking anywhere except at the two Elves, the dark horse walked over to a barrel of water open at the top and noisily quenched his thirst.

[ 04-16-2008, 05:14 AM: Message edited by: Gandalf the Grey ]

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Hamfast Gamgee
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 5528

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Whitesnake thought he heard some sort of noise outside. Was it a child? Whitesnake was not particularly paternal, nor very fond of children. Loud and unpredictable he found them. He was about to call the manager to remind him of his licence regulations when the child disappeared mysteriously. Oh, well.

But Whitesnake thought he would try to talk to Feanor one more time. He could live without it, but Feanor had information he could use. Plus, perhaps he had information which Feanor could use. It might involve messing with history, but Whitesnake frankly didn't care!

He knew Barufiniel wouldn't approve, but he gave a little nod to Feanor. 'Now, I know you're not keen to talk to me, but perhaps we could use each other. The fact is, I have acces to this device, which we believe you have created. But the thing is, I don't think we're using it properly and it would be nice to have some input into how it is done.

'In return, well, I might be not as good as craft as you, but I do happen to know your future. Been read in matters of your time. For free, I can advise you to beware of brotherly love. Or should I say half-brotherly love?'

From: Bagshot Row, Hobbiton, The Shire! | Registered: Sep 2006  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Roll of Honor Varnafindë
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 4097

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Strange, Barufiniel thought. Didn't Whitesnake notice that Fëanor had left just as he started to talk to him? And hadn't he noticed that Fëanor had taken no notice of him anyway? Barufiniel didn't approve of Fëanor's condescending attitude to mortals, but she was amazed that Whitesnake was too full of himself to notice the other's attitude.

Just as well that Fëanor was out of hearing distance, though. What was Whitesnake doing? Trying to mess up with history? Granted, he was being vague, vague enough to perhaps even be misleading - half-brotherly love hadn't been a problem, a certain malicious Vala had - but the situation between the sons of Finwë had been bad enough without anyone trying to make it worse. And all for Whitesnake's benefit, so that he could use a device to help Gandalf's enemies?

"Don't you dare!" she yelled at Whitesnake. "You know that you're not meant to use this Inn to interfere with history! If you don't stop it, I'll call the manager to remind him of his licence regulations! Get out of here!"

From: Narnia, also connected with Norway | Registered: Dec 2003  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Roll of Honor Varnafindë
Guard of the Citadel
Citizen # 4097

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..........

Perhaps she had been too harsh, Barufiniel thought. Her words had caused a complete silence in the Inn. She waited for a while for someone to speak, but nobody did. There was nothing to hear.

She turned around - and there was nothing to see, either. She was the only customer in the Inn. She didn't know how long she had waited, didn't know when the others had left - but as they all had, there was no reason for her to stay any longer. She said goodbye to the staff and checked that her bill had been paid, and walked out of the door.

Outside she could see her own footprints in the snow. The sun was at about the same position in the sky as it had been when she went into The Lost Inn. As if the whole adventure hadn't taken any time at all ...

[ 06-13-2011, 09:07 PM: Message edited by: Varnafindë ]

From: Narnia, also connected with Norway | Registered: Dec 2003  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
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