Incident at the Green Dragon
The Friday crowd were chewing the fat in the old Green Dragon’s snug,
Someone was strumming a wistful tune on the damp and sticky rug.
The barkeep idly polished a glass, thinking on supper and bed
And a table was laid by a hobbit maid, she’d set out quite a spread.
Outside the wind moaned eerily, the rain beat down like hell,
And on all those who lingered there a strange foreboding fell.
Then the tavern door was flung full wide and out of the night there strode
A windswept figure, haggard and drawn, grown weary from the road.
Who, or what, that stranger was, none there could quite recall,
Yet one there gasped, her cheeks went white, she looked like she might fall.
The stranger shed his sodden cloak and threw it on a chair
And gazed on those assembled there with an appraising stare.
His leather shirt was old and torn, his face was caked with mud
His shredded leggings stained, it seemed, with recently shed blood.
And then he grinned a terrible grin, to the barkeep gave a shout:
“Set ‘em up Barney, drinks for all, let none here go without!”
Though all there felt a slight unease, ‘tis true to say that most
Gladly filled their tankards then, and to him drank a toast.
But in one corner of the room, she stood transfixed and pale
Her darting eyes then met his gaze, she thought her heart would fail.
He laughed and turned towards the rug and from his coat he drew
A silver flute on which he played, oh how his fingers flew!
He played the cold and lonely road where wolves and goblins roam,
He played the sorrow in the heart that’s far from hearth and home.
He conjured snows that freeze the soul and ice that chills the blood
And mists upon the Barrow Downs and roar of treacherous flood.
His music spoke of wicked deeds and fear in the night
Of dark clouds gathering in the sky and drowning out the light.
He played a hunger, sharp and deep, that gnawed him from within,
The music rose and seemed to beg for one to let him in.
His need was great, his longings deep and all were made to feel
The emptiness inside him as he blew a mournful reel.
There was beauty in that tune he played, its sweetness subtly cloyed
None thought to dance, all were entranced by his vision of the void.
Yet in the corner of the room, the hobbit maid was changed
Where she stood by her groaning board where supper was arranged.
As if the music called to her she took a forward pace
Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were moist a smile upon her face.
And as she boldly looked upon that haggard stranger’s form,
He saw her and the music stopped, the very air grew warm.
His dark eyes seemed to call to her and slowly he grew near
All saw the passion in his look, as if all he held dear
Lay at last within his grasp, his hand reached out touch…
None can be sure what happened next, but I’ll tell ye this much,
The lights went out for a moment or two and when the light came back
The stranger’s body lay dead on the floor, lifeless as a sack.
Well the shiriff was called to see what occurred. When they questioned that hobbit maid
With steely eyes she boldly replied and not in the least afraid:
“I struck him down when the lights went out, he got what he deserved,
I swear that any honest folk would agree that justice is served.
I admit that I was sweet on him once and I’d gladly forgive his lies,
But there’s one crime I can never forgive – he tried to steal my pies!”
