George the Mouse Visits the Green Dragon Inn

If you have visited our kin hall in Songburrow, you might have met our four-legged friend. No, I am not talking about the pig that has invaded the study. I am talking about George the Dormouse. He rarely goes outside the house. He rarely goes on adventures. But when he does, it is well worth a story! Now, let me tell about the time when George visited the Green Dragon.

George really loved his home grounds. There was never a shortage of food, and no other dormouses that would come to nibble his cheese. The house cat was as lazy as a bounder after a thorough inn-spection. The pig at the study was only interested in eating the precious scrolls and Yule decorations, so George had all the crumbs and leftovers for himself.

But this one autumn, things changed. Suddenly, the hobbits of the house didn’t leave any crumbs nor food behind. They locked all their larders so tightly that George had no chance to get through. He didn’t want to nibble his way through the heavy wooden door. Wood chips always gave him stomach ache. Things started to look really grim for George. He had to go outside the house.

In the yard, he saw a hedgehog with a pierate hat.
“Hullo there!” George greeted the hedgehog warily. “Yer know where all the food has gone to?”
The pierate hedgehog saluted George and grumbled: “Arrr, ‘tis time o’ the year again. The Mayor be havin' his feast festival at Hobbiton-Piewater!”
“Oh, wh-what’s that?” George asked.
“All the Shire sends thar foods to the Mayor, so he can have his feast! Or them hide thar grub, if they be savvy.”
“Dear me!” George squeaked. “How long will this… feast last?”
“Oh 'twill last fer a month at least, then thar be the encore comin'”, the Hedgehog grunted.
“But… but… I need to eat as well!” George moaned.
The Hedgehog peered at George thoughtfully. “Thar be a solution, if ye be brave enough”, he said.
“What’s that?” George asked warily.
“We be sailin’ to Piewater!” the Hedgehog proclaimed, seized George by the paw and pulled him towards an adventure….

After a rather eventful sailing trip through the half of the Shire, George and the pierate Hedgehog arrived at Bywater.
“There are no pies in this Piewater”, George complained. Even though he had been seasick (without being at sea, of course) during the sailing, he was awfully hungry.
“Don't blame me, I didn' name that bloody pond”, the Hedgehog shrugged. “Now, let's see if we can find some grub to loot.”

They approached the market place. To put it mildly, it was a chaos. The square was full of people, all stomping around furiously. Rotten veggies were flying through the air towards a bounder. And in the middle was a long table, with lovely foods… and the Mayor.
“Thar be the treasure we seek”, the Hedgehog said.
“Are you serious! We can’t survive through this mob, we will be squashed!” George hissed.
“Arrr, mayhaps ye be rite. We needs to rethink our strategy”, the Hedgehog said, pondered a little and then smiled. “The barkeep keeps some o' the grub stocked in his cellar. We could eat thar in all peace. Thar be hardtack, cheese, pies…”
But George was already scurrying towards the inn door, eager to eat the cheese without being squashed like a rotten apple.

As the Hedgehog had said, there was plenty of food in the cellar. George ate all he could without bursting. Meanwhile, the Hedgehog was busy transferring the loot to their pierate ship. But they were not alone… for someone was looking at them from the dark corner of the cellar…

Suddenly, the figure cleared his throat. And then hiccuped. Startled, George flew up to the ceiling.
But the Hedgehog smiled widely.
“Arrr! Don't worry, George, 'tis me ole mate, the Garden Dwarf!”
The Garden Dwarf wobbled out from the shadows, still hiccuping every now and then. George calmed down a bit. He knew that garden dwarves were no trouble. But he had never spent much time in gardens though… so little did he know.
“Long time no see!” the Garden Dwarf said and hugged the Hedgehog (the spikes did no harm to this wooden fellow).
“This calls *hiccup* for a pint! Or two! Come, I’ll show you the way to the tap!” the Dwarf said and ushered the two out from the cellar, towards the common room upstairs.
George was a bit wary still, but he had his belly full and he felt quite happy about it. One pint wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t it? Well, little did he know, for he was just a little dormouse, because one pint means at least eleven pints.

The evening was in full swing at the Dragon. There was dancing, music, and some occasional grumbling from one of the rearmost tables. It was very much like a usual night at the Dragon. Toasts were raised, mugs where thrown… But every time a mug fell on the floor, it didn’t stay there long. All the fallen mugs seem to roll to one corner… If you looked closer, might have seen a garden dwarf, a seaworthy Hedgehog and a dormouse, all sipping from the ale mugs. George liked the ale a lot: it made him feel brave.
“Now that I am here, why not take a look around?” he thought.
So he went around, sniffing and peeping. The ale had made his sight a bit blurry, but he didn’t mind that. It was his nose that he trusted the most. And his nose smelled some good old cheese…
And there he saw it: a cheese, size of a house of a mouse! He could not believe his blurry eyes. Well, he did believe his nose.
“I have to get a bite of that!” he thought, scurrying closer.

George reached the edge of the rather flat cheese and digged in! And as he bit the cheese, he knew he had done a huge mistake. It was not a cheese, even though it smelled horribly like one…
It was…

The old rug! George started to cough and spit, trying to get the foul taste out from his mouth, but that was a huge mistake too, because now, the hobbits saw him. Everyone started to scream, jump up, trying to get away from the pesky dormouse.

George was horrified. It darted out from the closest hole in the wall that was there because of a recent fireworks incident. And needless to say, George never came back to the Green Dragon.

But the Hedgehog still visited the place quite often. It brought foods and ale to George as well, and shared the tales and gossip it had heard at the inn.
“Ye should visit the inn again!” the Hedgehog said.
“Naw, I like them treats, ales and stories better here at home”, George said. “I am not brave as you are.”
But the hedgehog shook his head. “Nonsense! Yer the one that made them all jump up in the air!”
“And ye know what?” the Hedgehog smiled. “After that incident, them made up a bouncing dance! Them still jumping up for you!”
And that did make George smile too.

The End.

The Old Innkeeper

Once there was an inn, located in a hobbit village. It was run by an old innkeeper who was highly esteemed, even though he was a bit stingy and kept the prices high as a standard. And his ales and beers weren’t even that good. Folks suspected that he added water to the beer from time to time.

But people kept visiting the inn nevertheless. It was a nice gathering place for the old and the young; the bold and the beautiful; the good, bad and the ugly. At the inn, many tales were told, tunes played, pints dropped… It was a merry place.

One day, one young lad came to the old innkeeper.
“I am a keen lover of ales and like to brew them as a hobby”, the lad said. “Could I become your apprentice and learn more about the trade?”
The old innkeeper smirked, but after having thought about it, he gave in.

The lad started to work in the inn, helping the innkeeper with the chores. The salary was minuscule, but that didn’t bother the apprentice, because he had some other things in his mind…

One evening, the lad was at the bar, taking care of the customers. When the old innkeeper returned from his pipeweed break, something caught his eye: the ale in the customers’ pints looked much darker than usual. The innkeeper rushed to his apprentice.
“What are you serving our customers?” he hissed. “Not the prized stuff from the cellar?”
“No, no, this is my own brew,” the apprentice said. “It is blackberry stout, with a strong berry flavour. I call it the Bearded Lady.”
“Dear me,” the old innkeeper said, rolling his eyes. “Oh well, as long as you do it at your own expense, I am not complaining…”

The old innkeeper regretted his words soon afterwards. The apprentice started to sell so many special brews that the bar looked like a dye seller’s booth: every beer and ale had a different colour. When the apprentice started to sell turnip beer, the old innkeeper had had enough.
“This nonsense has to stop! This liquid here is a repellent, not a beer!” he exclaimed.
The apprentice shrugged.
“If you don’t like my beers, maybe it is the best that we go separate ways,” the apprentice said. “I will start a new inn where I can serve anything I want.”

So, the apprentice left the inn and started a new inn down the road, not that far away. To the old innkeeper’s surprise, it attracted most of the customers. It seemed that they longed for something new and full of taste. The new innkeeper offered much more variety too. Soon, the old innkeeper’s place stood empty, while folks gathered at the new inn called the Lord of the Ales.

The old innkeeper sneaked to the new place on one night, eager to see why it was so popular. After he had found his way through the crowd, he stopped by the bar and ordered “a pint”. All he got was a lengthy list of different ales, each of them with a fancy name that didn’t say anything to him.
“Okay… just give me the cheapest beer you have,” he sighed.
It was the turnip beer, of course.

The place was crowded. There was a bagpipe band playing some fast music. Everyone was shouting at each other and spitting their beer all over.
“I wonder what has gone into people,” the old innkeeper said and left the bar, returning to his own inn.

Many weeks passed without a single customer. Then, on a late evening, as the old innkeeper was closing up, he saw an old lady wobble towards his place.
“You need any assistance, ma’am?” the old innkeeper asked politely.
“I think I have had one too many at that new place,” the old lady said. “May I rest my feet at your place?”
“Well of course!” the old innkeeper said, beaming.
The lady sat at the bar for many hours, sipping water and chatting with the innkeeper.
The time flew, as the old lady told a tale after another, and the old innkeeper kept listening. He didn’t even sell any beer to her, nor charge for the water she drank.

After that long night, the old lady started to visit the inn – with a friend of hers. Then, another friend came along, and then another… Soon, there was a regular gossip club meeting at the inn. Little by little, people started to return to the old place. It was beloved by bards, riddle makers, storyteller’s and even some sneaky garden dwarves.

On one night, the former apprentice, the young lad, came for a visit. He ordered a beer, and the old innkeeper handed him a plain, watery one.
The young lad sipped the beer and grimaced. “How on earth can you have so many visitors when your beer is like this? I thought you have a secret recipe!”

The old innkeeper wiped a pint and looked around. There, at one table, people were sharing the latest gossip about a happy pig on the loose. In a corner, a gentlehobbit was reciting a poem about an oliphaunt to a group of young hobbits. And there, by the fire, a young lass was strumming her lute, singing a song about the grand Shire life.
“I think it’s not my recipe everyone is here for,” the old innkeeper said, smiling.
“I tell you what,” he continued. “You are always welcome to serve beers here. Maybe we can compromise. Just don’t serve anyone that turnip thing,” he added and shivered.
So, the young brewer lad returned to the inn, serving a few of his special beers.

One day, the young brewer said to the old innkeeper:
“Only now, I think I am getting the hang of this trade. There is one ingredient that makes any inn evening delightful.”

And what is it?
Good company, and that means you!
A toast to you, my hobbits! *raises a pint*

Pycella's Patron Poem 2017

It’s Green Dragon Friday
And I am feeling so well
It’s time to meet all of my friends
They have all come here

Old Barmy counts his gold coins
Miss Lina sings with her sweet voice
Miss Acorne greets me with a warm hug
And Nimelia inspects her mug

King Potty straightens his hat
And Fidgit hops with his cat
There’s master Hooh sparkling like a star
Ponso lectures about the parr

Tibba enjoys her pork meal
Rubysue is slicing the veal
Miss Apri comes, but too late again:
Simbo has cleared all the plates

Miss Nannie tells an old tale
Bonkadoc makes a turnip sale
Ambrinna strums the quickest of tunes
As Penny tries to hide her blute

This is my patron poem
To you, my friends, old and new
Friendship's the only ship that I trust
Let me sail it now with you

About the song

I wrote this for the Green Dragon Friday Anniversary in 2017, where folks were asked to write their patron poems. I decided to write a song that covers some of the frequent inn visitors. It is best sung to a tune by miss Baez, Plaisir d'amour.

Joan Baez – Plaisir d'amour