Under suspicion?

Outside the South Gate

To the west and the north lies the village of Bree, chief seat of the Bree-lands. The town is nestled under the western flank of Bree-hill, a sizable mass against the skyline. The Great East Road crosses by a causeway into Bree, which is surrounded by a large hedge. Where the road pierces the hedge, a wall thirty feet wide and fifteen feet high has been erected. The stones are set well, with little mortar, but obvious care. Inset in the middle of the wall, under an arching row of stones, is a sturdy wooden door with two windows: one high, one low.

 Behind the gate and hedge, the higher slopes of Bree-hill rise up. The Road runs south from the gate, in a straight line, before bending southeast around one of Bree-hill's 'feet'.

Obvious exits:

 SouthEast leads to Great East Road: South of Bree.

 West leads to Along Bree's South Hedge.

 NorthWest leads to Inside the South Gate.

================================== Bree Time ==================================

Real time: Mon Aug 16 09:16:04 2010

Bree time: Late Morning <11:48:12> on Sunday of Autumn - September 11,1450

Moon Phase: First Quarter Moon

Breelands Weather

The morning autumn air is cool but pleasant around you.

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[Nob(#16122)] The morning is young - very young, for the sun has barely risen, and the guards are only just now pushing back the gates and yawning. Gidon stands waiting for them - he glances up at the threatening clouds and pulls the over-large cloak he is wearing closer around his shoulders. As soon as the gate is open, he stoops to pick up the sack at his feet and heads outside the town. Going to the woods, no doubt, to look for more herbs... but why then is his bag already full?

Broddur is up early too this morning, and not looking best pleased about it. The grizzled miner stomps along, puffing on his pipe. His head is down and he's muttering to himself, something about the idiocy meddling in other folks' affairs.

A shout from the gates lifts his head. One of the yawning guards nudges the other and murmurs something, pointing to Gidon's full sack. The other, a balding, beefy middle-aged man (would it be unkind to say fat?), is not slow to respond. at "Oi, you! What's in that sack?" He steps forward to bar Gidon's way, whilst his companion gawps.

[Nob(#16122)] The boy stops, looking from one to the other. "M'lunch," he says quickly, and holds the bag up by the neck - surely the guards could see through the rough weave! His eyes flicker beyond them to the dwarf, then return.

Lunch? The fat Breeguard looks surprised and, despite himself, hungry. He licks his lips, then says gruffly, holding out a hand, "Got to take a look. Regulations. 'Sides, Ally here says you's been seen in the company of a dangerous criminal."

'Ally', a thin tousle-headed lad probably not too many summers older than Gidon himself, blushes scarlet at the mention of his name, but noticing the Dwarf approaching, tries to pull himself straight and look official.

Broddur looks from one human to the next and the next, his gnarled features fixed in a scowl. "What's all this?" he demands suspiciously, glowering at the world in general. Humans.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon eyes the man warily, and doesn't give him the bag - but he does squat down, dropping it to the ground and lifting out a hunk of cheese to hold up. "See?"

Then, hotly, "He is not!" Anything else he might say is interrupted by the dwarf. Gidon darts a glance out the gate, then puts his cheese back into the bag and stands up, edging half a step closer to the outside.

The fat guard looks longingly at the piece of cheese. "Suppose," he agrees half-heartedly, not pressing the matter. Just how long is it till lunchtime? On cue, his stomach rumbles.

Broddur, however, is not letting things go so easily.

"Now then, now then," he rumbles out. "Not so fast, laddie. You heard the fellow. All bags is to be searched. Slouch off like that an' folk'll think you've got something to hide. And you, sir," he turns a baleful brown-eyed glare on the fat guard, "have a duty to search it." He thumps his miner's pick as though to reinforce the order. "Now, what's all this about dangerous criminals?" His frown deepens, puckering his scars.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon is moving already as the first guard speaks, and he hesitates a moment before stopping at Broddur's words, casting a longing look at the road out. "Fine," he says turning around, "But you can't be takin' none of it!" He holds the sack out, letting the mouth fall open so that the guard can see inside but not letting go. -cheese, two loaves of bread, several apples, some dried meat- Seems the boy is hungry.

"That there - " Ally stops, turning a brighter red as his voice squeaks, and clears his throat to try again. "Fellow! The one as hit Thomas on the head and stole all that pipeweed! He - he goes round with him." He manages the whole sentence, only stammering once, and wavers between looking proud of himself, and terrified at the sound of his own voice.

The fat guard's mouth falls open too at the sight of all that food, which probably looks quite a reasonable amount to someone of his girth, and he licks his lips wistfully. "Wish ole' Harry weren't so down on us eating on the job," he grumbles under his breath, then recollects himself and waves a meaty hand irritably in Gidon's direction. "Go on, put it away," he directs the lad curtly. To Broddur he bows, and tells the miner with the air of a report, "All present and correct, Master Dwarf".

Broddur's brown eyes are fixed on Gidon, and he scrutinizes the youth deeply from beneath bushy brows. "I see. Perhaps we'd best have a word, you and I, Mister-" The words fade as he looks to Ally to fill in the blank, his hand still tapping the haft of his pick impatiently.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon squats down again to tie up the mouth of his sack, which he manages with surprising dexterity for one hand being mostly used as a brace. He looks up again, wide-eyed, as Ally stammers his name out. "Gi-Gi-Gidon. L-Leafthicket."

"Mister Gigigid," Broddur repeats, beard wagging as he tries to contort his mouth round the seemingly unpronounceable name. "My kin have vowed to put an end to the banditry plaguing these parts!" he declares grandly, then mutters into his beard something that might just be 'Right foolish notion'. Raising his voice again. "Each and every evildoer will be hunted down and brought to justice, and it will go ill with those who harbour them." Somehow the words have the air of a rote-speech. "So," he adds, his voice returning to normal, "if you know where yon wretch they're seeking is holed up, you'd best tell us right quick." He's fidgety now the pipe he'd taken out of his mouth before speaking to the humans drops ash on the ground.

[Nob(#16122)] "Gidon," the lad in question corrects, his voice soft. He stands up, slinging the bag over his shoulder, and listens to the dwarf's Pronouncement politely, shaking his head at the end. "Don' know." Then he bursts out angrily, "And he ain't a wretch!"

Broddur's bushy brows shoot up at Gidon's angry response. He looks from youth to each Breeguard and back again in turn. "Men," he mutters under his breath with a grimace of disgust. "Never should have got mixed up in all this. Just what'm I supposed to ask-" He stares at Gidon a moment longer, then suggests to the youth, with grudging politeness, "Don't know so much of what's going on round here myself. But one of my kin's made it his business. Happen you'd answer a few questions for him, Mister Gidon?"

His gaze returns to the pair of guardsmen and he queries them softly, brows bristling, "This one isn't under suspicion?"