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Logs

Heated Exchange

Tags: Bulmo,  Thasto,  Lotho

Short Summary: General confusion, and two hobbits nearly come to blows.
Date (real-life): 2011-08-29
Scene Location: East Road, The Shire
Date (in-game): Trewsday, Winterfilth 18, 1453 S.R.
Weather: Rainy
Logfile from Elendor.


================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Mon Aug 29 12:05:40 2011 (+time).
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IC Time is 04:17:00 on Trewsday, Winterfilth (October) 18, 1453 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
A light trickle of rain washes down from the sky, refreshing the countryside across the Shire. Refreshing or not, though, few hobbits venture out without an umbrella. The sky is veiled in cloud, hiding any trace of the moon.
===============================================================================


Great East Road - Hardbottle Turnoff
Trees hug the road here, providing a large amount of shade and a rather musty smell. You can see the main road running east-west, and can spot a narrow trail leading southward through the woods. Moss grows over the road here, and many ferns protrude from the dense thicket. Every so often, a deer or a hare will dart across the road to the other side, lickety split. Nearly overgrown by the foliage, a painted sign reads, "South: Hardbottle Way."
A light trickle of rain washes down from the sky, refreshing the countryside across the Shire. Refreshing or not, though, few hobbits venture out without an umbrella. The sky is veiled in cloud, hiding any trace of the moon.
Contents:
Frodo
Thasto
Obvious exits:
 South leads to Hardbottle Way.
 West leads to Michel Delving - Eastern Outskirts.
 East leads to Waymeet.


Boldibad

                               Boldibad Bolger                                
                                 Setting: IC                                  
 
    By all appearances, a gentlehobbit, distinguished by at least five decades of age and experience. Wrinkles only seem to be making their presence known by making their way into the sides of his mouth, and around his eyes. Probably weighing in well over 120 pounds, his girth seems respectable, at least as far as Bolgers go. Despite the extra weight, and advancing age, Boldibad seems to be in fine health.
    A few inches of curly, reddish-brown hair cover his head and hang down past his ears. The texture appears to be quite thick, almost wooly. His relatively large feet are coated by similar stuff, the only difference is that this hair appears to be trimmed much shorter than that on his head. His nose is somewhat bulbous, but not so much as to look out of proportion with the rest of his face.
     A white, cotton shirt is worn under a finely-made waistcoat of dark green with a gold-embroidered checker design. The stem of a pipe protrudes from his one breast pocket, which resides on his left side.
     His trousers are black and they dangle somewhat below his ankles. A black belt of thin leather has been wrapped around his waist and from it hangs a couple of pouches that probably contain money or pipeweed.

|Boldibad is looking at you.|


Thasto
Thasto Proudfoot is about average for a Hobbit. He's roughly two-and-five-sixths feet tall, and slightly rotund 'round the middle. His head is topped with thick, curly, sandy-coloured hair, and his bright blue eyes are surrounded with scores of laugh lines. Thasto's cheeks are bright red and full of life.

He is wearing a black-and-blue linen shirt, buttoned all the way up with dulled pewter buttons. On top of this is an darker blue waistcoat with green trim with brass buttons up the center and over the pockets.

His brown woolen trousers are cuffed just above his ankles. A darker brown belt of heavy leather has been wrapped around his waist and from it hangs a pouch or two.

The dark brown fur on his feet is well-maintained and impeccably groomed.
Carrying:
Bow


Frodo
A young gentlehobbit, unusually tall for one of his kind and thinner than most, who appears just out of his tweens. He has rather fair skin but, despite its color, it is not the delicate skin of the nobility in other lands but rather firm and taunt as befits a hobbit. He has a small, pleasant dimple in his cheeks and light blue eyes, somewhat sunken as if to distance themselves from others; yet, in counterpoint, warm and curled brown hair long enough to cover his ears seems to ground his demeanour firmly in the present.

This hobbit is clothed in the Shire's finest, plain in comparison to the greater places of Middle-Earth but nevertheless woven with great care. His attire begins with a deep brown pair of breeches that end a few inches above his ankles and a clean white shirt. Over the shirt is a yellow waistcoat and over the waistcost follows a tan jacket with gold buttons. He wears no additional adornments of any kind -- rather, the only other remarkable thing about this hobbit is his large, fur-covered feet, which are visible due to his lack of shoes.


|Frodo is looking at you.|


Witch-king arrives from the east.
Witch-king has arrived.


As the rain falls gently from the overcast sky this morning, a somewhat muddy coach rolls down the road from the west, creating a long trail of wheel ruts. Four ponies pull the vehicle behind them, and if possible to tell by their expressions, they obviously wish they were in a stable somewhere. A small door opens behind what appears to be a metal grate, or screen, behind the driver, and a voice comes out. "Thilo," says Boldibad from inside, "stop here for a moment, won't you?"


Lotho arrives from the east.
Lotho has arrived.


Smoke pours from Mt. Doom as the Dark One's evil sorcery lags the game.
The smoke clears as good triumphs and the database saves.


A wagon is bumping along from the other direction, piled high with barrels, and driven by an extremely disgruntled looking hobbit, swaddled in so many layers of oilskins and mufflers that all that can be seen is his frown.


There's a rustling from the undergrowth. Out from the brush comes a rather muddy Thasto. 'Of course it'd have to be Ol' Man Bolger.' He mutters crossly as he emerges out onto the road.


The Bolger coach pulls to a stop. "Alright, Boldibad," says Thilo, wiping rain from his brow. "But, I'm going to sit inside until you're ready--I'm soaked!" He goes inside after Boldibad exits, both movements causing much shaking of the vehicle. Boldibad crosses his arms, looking in Thasto's direction. "Well, well, well," he says over the rain, "What are you up to, sneaking around in the woods, Proudfoot? Causing trouble, I trust?"


The wagon bumps on. At last, it is pulled to a stop, nose to nose with the ponies pulling the carriage, and the driver peers out at the two hobbits standing in the rain. "Here," he says in a thin, irritable voice, "I'll hire you to drive this cart on to Hobbiton." Without waiting for a reply, he abandons his vehicle and makes a (rather waddly) beeline for Boldibad's carriage, making to climb inside where it is dry - and presumably a bit warmer.


'Less than you.' Thasto retorts, wiping some of the sripping rain from his forehead. 'Are you going to be long, then? There's a hart out here we've been stalking, and we'd be much obliged if you didn't scare him off 'fore we had a chance to put a couple arrows in him.'


"Proudfoots? Causing trouble? When are they not?" grunts another voice then, and with a loud snore a figure in the back of the Bolger wagon sits up. Smacking lips and stretching arms, this jowly hobbit raises a hand to shield his eyes from the rain as he pokes out his head from cover, and his gaze is not happy as it regards Thasto. "Their feet might be proud, but they rarely take care not to tread on another's toes."


The wagon ponies snuffle noses with their coach counterparts, and Lotho heaves himself up the steps, reaching out to open the door, and duck inside. His voice floats out from the interior, "Mind you take it straight to the Inn!"


Boldibad chuckles at the other passenger's comments. He then turns back to Thasto, looks over his bow, and shakes his head, "I might be, and I might not be. What are you doing anyway--you have to hunt for your suppers nowadays? I'm sorry to hear that, sir! Perhaps if your family wasn't so rude to mine, you could come to Bolger Smial for a few things to eat."

Thilo jumps out of the coach, "Boldibad, who is that?" He asks, interrupting, and pointing at the coach.


'Nothing wrong with working for your supper you lazy oof.' Thasto replies. 'Besides and to which, a special occassion like this warrants a special meal to be shared with special people. Needless to say, that doesn't include you. What are you doing out here, anyways? Finally get ostracized by everyone in Budge Ford?'
    Hearing another nasally complaint, Thasto turns. 'And who's this, then? Another one of your barmy relations?'


"Barmy? Barmy?" grunts the passenger on the Bolger coach, and he pokes a stubby finger down at Thasto. "Listen, Proudfoot, I'm Bulmo Bolger, and I'll not take cheek from the likes of you. Especially after Boldibad here made so polite an offer! You just carry on getting your foothairs wet, as far as I'm concerned."

But then he too squints into the rainy night, and asks: "Who IS out there?"

But then he too squints at the newly arrived passenger, and he asks: "Who's that that?"
<OOC> Witch-king amends :)
<OOC> Lotho says, "Thanks!"


"I'm Sackville-Baggins," grunts Lotho, feeling around in the dim coach for a seat, and thumping down onto it with a sigh. He begins to pat at his face, unwinding the multitude of mufflers. "You wouldn't believe how wet and cold it is out there! Dreadful day. And my carter up and says he's sick. I fired him, of course. Sick!" He snorts. "Ask me, he just didn't want to go out in the wet."


Thilo huffs, but doesn't say anything to Thasto as Bulmo speaks. He pulls his cloak around him, and stares in the direction of the coach.

Boldibad doesn't pay any attention to Thilo or Bulmo, or even the question of what stranger is in his coach. He scowls and replies, "Well, perhaps you should just move in with the folks at Scary--they also have to work for their supper. If your family is as old as that codger Odo claims, then you shouldn't have to reduce yourself to such a thing." He then points a finger and says angrilly, "When are you going to apologize to my neice, Proudfoot?!"


Thasto is indignant. 'Apologize for her philandering? I'd just as soon take a boat trip down the River!' He casts his hood back around him. 'But I suppose promiscuity is a long and proud Bolger family trait then, isn't it?'


"What? What say you? Why, I've a mind to hop down there and box your ears, Proudfoot!" snorts Bulmo as he hears Thasto's retort. "Our Amethyst is a good lass, and behaves herself; I won't hear no slanders! Why, if I wasn't so occupied with greeting this passenger here, I'd show you a thing or two..."

Coughing then, to actually return his attention to the person he claims occupies it, Bulmo peers once more at Lotho. "Sackville-Baggins, you say? Not related to that old dragon Lobelia, I hope?"


Lotho finishes divesting himself of his dripping outer layer, and finically straightens his waistcoat. Then he reaches up and thumps on the roof, calling out, "Drive on! Green Dragon Inn!"

And finally, he turns a sour eye on Bulmo. "Kindly cease from disparaging my mother," he says in chilly accents.


Thasto snerks. 'Feel free to try, y'old sack of dough. I know for sure that even now she's oft in the company of Pilgro Bunce all by their lonesomes. I was happy enough to just keep quiet about the issue until you all started up on the issue.'


"Well, burn my dinner," Boldibad says, moving back towards the coach. "I've never been more insulted in my life. You--you--you're nothing but... an alespot, sir. I'll show you!" He returns to the coach, and opens the door, and peers inside. "Pimple--er, Lotho?" he gasps, "What are you doing here? Where did you come from?"

Thilo climbs back into the coach, and glares at Lotho, "I am the driver, sir, and I am not going anywhere unless my friend Boldibad says to!"


Thasto goes east.
Thasto has left.
Thasto arrives from the east.
Thasto has arrived.


And Bulmo, for his part, goes white as a sheet as Lotho reveals the identity of his erstwhile, and above all, /influential/ mother. "Oh, well, do please forgive me Pimp-- I mean, Lotho, my boy. I was thinking of an entirely different lady, I can assure you, but Lobelia is so well-known that her name springs to mind whenever I hear of Sackville Baggins."

Coughing, and fidgeting his fingers, the Bolger adds: "Will, er, she be presiding over the Lady's Club once again, this season?"


Thasto shakes his head. 'Sure dodged a branch with that trollop from the Marish Bank.' He mutters. 'Enjoy your trip, Bolgers' He says, waving merrily. 'Oh, I'd warn you about trying to find room in Waymeet tonight. Once Hopper and I bring that hart back, Maybell and I'll be having our Betrothal dinner. Plesant traaaaavels!' Thasto chortles and heads back into the wood.


"Mighty snippety servants you've got, Bolger," is Lotho's comment. He looks dourly at Bulmo. "I expect so. She generally does." He sounds more gloomy than otherwise, and starts up in irritation as, through the window, he sees (and hears) Thasto departing. "Well, I never! You! Hey, you there! Come back! You can't leave the wagon out in the rain like that!"


Boldibad turns away from the coach when he hears Thasto's parting words, and takes a few steps forward, waving a pudgy fist in the air in frustration. "You'll be sorry, Proudfoot!" he calls after him. He turns back to the vehicle and climbs inside, reluctantly squeezing in next to Lotho. "I can't believe the nerve of that hobbit!" he steams, "If I had a basket of eggs right now, I'd cover him in them, that's for sure." He glares at Lotho for a moment, "Excuse me, Thilo Bracegirdle isn't my servant, but a good friend. And, why don't you tell your mother about that Thasto Proudfoot? He's certainly going to marry that Maybell, or whatever the name was, because he thinks it's going to make my neice feel bad. In fact, she despises him. The Ladies Club should deal him out a gauche stamp for certain!"


A very firm nod is given by Bulmo at this, and he folds his arms crossly. "Makes my blood run hot to think of his swanning around, causing mischeif and bad blood, and no-one pulling him up for it. And why! He even leaves loaded wagons out in the rain, too!"

Clearly this litany of outrage is almost too much for the jowly Bolger to bear.


"I certainly shall. And he left my - exactly!" Lotho says with righteous indignation. "Why, the pipeweed might be spoilt!" The horror of this thought leaves him silent for a moment, then he redoubles his efforts, bawling out the window after the long-gone Thasto. "PROUDFOOT! YOU GET BACK HERE!"


Boldibad nods agreement at the other Bolger. "It's true. None of those Proudfoots are any good, though--I suppose he can't help it." He shakes his head, "I would like to really get back at that marrow-eater... perhaps we should call on the Proudfoots sometime soon. In fact," he looks at Lotho and smiles, "Perhaps you could help us out, Lotho." He winces, "And, aren't those your barrels Lotho? What are you going on about?"


Bulmo coughs, and shakes his head. "Yes, but the Proudfoot clearly say that Pi-- Mr Sackville-Baggins was getting aboard the coach, and the only polite thing to do would have been to take care of his wagon for him. Isn't that right, Mr Sackville-Baggins?"

He leans in then to not-to-subtly whisper to Boldibad: "My Esme's got a fryping pan with Thasto Proudfoot written all over it, indeed."


"I said I would pay him," Lotho adds grumpily. "How dare he go swanning off into the woods like that!" He eyes Boldibad and Bulmo, nodding, though with a slight wariness, as if he isn't quite sure he agrees with whatever he's agreeing to. "I shall most certainly tell Mother."


Boldibad shakes his head as if acknowledging a mistake. "Of course, of course," he says, with a grin. "I hadn't thought of that. You know, Lotho, you have a bit more sense than I assumed." He glances at Thilo, "I suppose one of us could take the wagon. Perhaps Thilo wouldn't mind?"

Thilo looks up and clears his throat, "Well, it is rather wet out there, Boldibad... I thought Bulmo was going to take the reins soon, anyway--maybe he would take Lotho's cart."


Blumo's favours Boldibad with a Look, and grunts gently. "I could, but only if you brought a spare cloak."


Boldibad hems, "I'm afraid I didn't. But, it seems that the rain is slowing down now. I don't think it's right to make Thilo drive any longer, do you?" He hems and leans back in the seat.


As if afraid that he might be called upon to give up /his/ cloak, Lotho clutches it about himself in alarm. "Yes, that's right," he says hurriedly, listening to only half of Boldibad's speech. "The rain, it isn't nearly so heavy now..." Then he wriggles his rearend into the cushions as if to settle himself immovably within.


"Fine, fine, but you just make sure the biggest bun is on my plate next time I nip round for second breakfast, Boldibad," says Bulmo, who rises then and squints suspiciously at the sky. Hopping down out of the coach he then scales Lotho's wagon, and the nuzzling ponies are given a gentle whap of the reins to stir them into life.


Boldibad looks up after Bulmo leaves the coach. "Well, I suppose one of us will have to drive the coach..."


[+SET] You go Out Of Character.

Date added: 2011-09-02 00:46:04    Hits: 34
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