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Logs

Surprises

Tags: Brev,  Gidon,  Honora

Short Summary: Gidon startles Brev and his pony in the Chetwood, but then gets a shock of his own (admittedly a very pleasant one!)
Date (real-life): 2010-06-16
Scene Location: Bree: The Chetwood
Date (in-game): March 3050
Time of Day: Evening
The Chetwood
A small collection of moss covered stones forms a ring under the trees of the Chetwood. The stone ring is dim in the night, and the trees of the Chetwood seem to press in close, as if keeping the ring close and secret from the other parts of the wood.

[Bree Function Object(#106)->Brev] ================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Wed Jun 16 14:41:54 2010
Bree time: Late Night <04:05:42> on Sunday of Spring - March 11,1450
Moon Phase: New  Moon

Breelands Weather
The late night spring air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is clear and the moon shines brightly. The moon is above the horizon and in its new phase.
===============================================================================

Evening is here, dusk following hard on the heels of a fresh wind that brings with it the first hints of spring: it has a damp, earthy scent to it. The boughs of the Chetwood are set a-rustle by its passing, weaving and dipping in a shifting screen of grey-black that could hide anything, or nothing. The cresent moon is out, climbing slowly above the horizon - a good night for hunting - or being hunted.

Moving through the dimness of the wood is the bulk of something larger than a deer. There is the soft thud of hooves against the mossy ground, and then an uneasy whicker, then into the clearing moves a horse - or pony rather, the beast is small and shaggy - and a rider. The latter bears a spear and his hooded head turns this way and that as though seeking.

[Nob(#16122)] There are still some patches of rotten snow down in the dark hollows and holes of the Chetwood. Places where the sun never shines, not even at midsummer. Dim and tangled places - lairs for creatures of the night...

The horseman is not the only one abroad in the wood this evening. A pair of yellow eyes watch from the shadow of an overgrown vine; blink and are gone. An owl glides silently overhead. And - oddly - still and huddled at the base of a tree trunk, there is a bag. It looks to be half-full, a bit of leafy stalk poking out of the open mouth.

The pony shies at the owl's passage, and the rider tilts his head up a moment, the hood falling away to reveal a head of dark curls that, now freed of prisoning cloth, stray in all directions. Brev leans forward over his mount's neck, the low murmur of his voice with the cadence of reassurance to it. "Easy there. You've seen owls before, lad. Now, which way was-" And then he catches sight of the part-open bag and stiffens, legs gripping the pony a little more tightly. He tries to guide the beast away from the seemingly abandoned object, moving in a wide circle in the opposite direction to that from which the owl had come. Mescan, picking up on his rider's unease, snorts.

[Nob(#16122)] There is a sudden rustle up in the tree, a soft voice calls, "Brev?" and at almost the same instant, a boy drops onto the ground. Gidon has gotten quite good at getting around with only one very-useful hand; and now he smiles happily up at the man on horseback, another sack around his neck full of ... moss?

Brev's response to the rustling is instant - the spear cradled under his arm swings round, its tip pointed at the source of the disturbance. Mescan, of course, has his own ideas of how to deal with Strange Things in the Dark and takes a couple of jerking steps away. Net result? Brev is thrown forward and grabs a handful of mane; the spear swings wildly then embeds itself in the moss. A rather embarrassed silence follows.

"Kiern, lad!" the man exclaims once he's jerked his spear free. "You certainly know how to scare a body, eh?" He's grinning, though.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon is grinning also, unstoppably, though he ducks his head a little and flushes also. "Din't mean to," he apologizes. "Saw you..." He slips out of the bag around his neck, kneeling to set it by the other one at the base of the tree. The dim green light of evening gives his pale face a strange cast. "Din't know you was coming here," he adds, standing up again and holding his hand out to Brev's pony.

Brev slides awkwardly down from the pony, who is still inclined to be skittish. "Fat lot of use you were," he mutters sourly. "Least you didn't throw me this time. And you should remember this one." The pony, Mescan, snorts then lowers his muzzle toward the proffered hand. Perhaps he remember something else about this particular lad.

The man, for his part, glances down at the pair of bags without comment, then back at Gidon with a shrug. "Was out east, working in the village again. The most of it was done, and the place ready for the next burning - seemed a good time to head back."

[Nob(#16122)] The boy pats Mescan absently for a minute, before stopping and squatting down to pull something out of one of his bags with his good hand. "Here," he murmurs, holding it out to the pony, "You'll like this, I bet..." He looks back at Brev, his face serious. "Reckon it'll hold a while?" he asks. "Looked like a good wall, they were building."

Mescan is, as always, interested in anything and everything food-like. He lowers his muzzle to pull whatever-it-is out of Gidon's hands.

Brev, leaning on his spear now, considers the question, then shrugs again. "It /is/ a good wall. But the last goblin-man I had the pleasure of meeting was boasting of crushing it." His gaze slides away. "Did warn the Elf." Does the silence that follows mean he did not warn the villagers?

Looking back, he changes the topic easily enough. "Swear you've grown." The corners of his mouth are curling up slightly. "What's the moss for? You've enough there to plug half a battlefield of bleeding limbs ..."

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks up, listening, then he shrugs, but his smile takes on a hint of shy pride. "Have," he says and stands very straight. He is still a slight lad, short as all Breefolk are, but he's a good inch taller than he was last fall.

His eyes fall to the moss. "Ah... sell it, y'see."

Brev chuckles. "Keep at it and you'll fit into those spare trews I .. ah, acquired back last spring. Though you'd need to do something about the girth. A couple of decades of ale and easy living might do the trick."

He follows the direction of Gidon's gaze, then nods. "Fair enough. Though I'd not have thought they'd have much call for it in Bree. You /could/ wait till the trouble out east flares up again, then auction a few sacks off to whoever's the victor."

Mescan, showing not the slightest interest in conversation, edges past Gidon and snuffles at the sack from which the treat had come earlier.

It is dusk, and the Chetwood alive with the rustlings and soughings that come with the fall of night. Within the clearing of moss-covered stones, the rise and fall of voices lifts above the murmurs of the breeze. Three are gathered there: man, youth and shaggy pony.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks down at himself and then gives Brev a sideways glance. He is skinnier than the older man, and considerably thinner than the 'borrowed' trousers... "M'growing!" he protests, then grins. A motion from the corner of his eye brings him around to slap at the pony's nose. "Y'can't have no more of that," he scolds. "Yeah, maybe could," is the thoughtful reply to Brev's suggestion. "Healer here won't have much more need for't. Said he was out, needed this bag."

Brev lifts a brow at Gidon's response; clearly it is unexpected. "'Course, we'd need to figure out a way to stop the villagers fleecing us. Figure I'd outstayed my welcome there before."

Belatedly he notes Mescan's antics and steps forward to yank on the rope. "Likely it'd poison you," he tells the beast reprovingly.

To Gidon he queries, "So. Going to invite me to stay - or would that girl of yours have other ideas? Can make myself scarce if I have to ..."

[Nob(#16122)] The boy has grown, in more than one way. He looks at the moss, and cocks his head, thinking. "Don' need th'money now," he says. "Might though - later." He looks up, hope sparking in his eyes at Brev's 'we' - hope which changes in swift turn to joy and then a fiery red blush. "Course you can come," he says. "She.." he blushes still deeper and tries for whatever dignity he can find. "She lives in Bree, you know it."

The corners of Brev's mouth twitch, ever so slightly. "Doesn't stop her coming here, does it? Unless you prefer sneaking into her family home at dead of night ... ahh, that must be it." The twitching stops and he is, for an instant, entirely straight-faced.

An owl hoots in the distance then, and both man and pony stiffen. Brev reaches out to rub absently at the beast's rough-coated neck; surreptitiously he adjusts his grip on his spear. Both the pair appear to be rather skittish in woods these days.

[Nob(#16122)] The boy turns even redder - if such a thing were possible. "Do not," he manages, in a strangled voice, and turns abruptly, squatting down to pick up the bags, one at a time, and sling them over his shoulder. He ignores the owl entirely, completely comfortable with his surroundings.

Brev remains stiffly still for several heartbeats, as though listening. At last he takes his hand from Mescan's neck (though his other still curls round the spear-haft). "That's a very interesting colour you've gone," he comments lightly. "Here - need a hand with those? Yon lump," he jerks his head in the direction of the pony, "needs to earn his keep. He's good at carrying things - just not me, always. Tends to dump me at the first sign of trouble. Canny beast."

[Nob(#16122)] A fifteen - almost sixteen - year old boy can turn plenty of interesting colors... Gidon ducks his head so that his black hair falls around his face, and mutely holds one of the bags out for the pony to carry. "Kissed her," he mumbles.

Brev can't resist one smirk at Gidon's expense; after that, though, he gives the lad some respite whilst he tucks the bag in amongst those already knotted in front of the pony's saddle-blanket. "Aye," he says encouragingly, "that's how you're supposed to start. Trust you've been getting in plenty of practice?" A smile flickers at one corner of his mouth.

[Nob(#16122)] A grin is pulling at Gidon's mouth too; he nods once as the smile grows, and then sets off hurriedly down the trail towards his house. Brev can't tease him if he is trying to guide a pony around, surely!

Indeed, after a single amused snort Brev falls mercifully silent. He sets off after Gidon, spear in hand, and from the way his head jerks this way and that it's clear he's alert for any sign of trouble.

Mescan, though he twitches uneasily every now and then, follows the Men-folk. Anything's better than being out in the woods alone ...



The Chetwood
The forest here seems darker and fouler, and the trees seem to grow crookedly at strange angles. There is a small stream through the forest here that runs east-west. To the east, the stream plunges down into the rank Midgewater Marshes, its clean water mixing in with the brown muck and mire of the swamps. There are several paths here that lead away into all directions, but the most well-worn of them leads to the west.

A small hut has been built into the woods; an anvil sits in front of the door.
Obvious exits:
West

[Nob(#16122)] The forest gets dimmer and dimmer - though outside, it is still not quite sunset - as Gidon leads the way towards his home. At last he comes out into the clearing around the small hut, and hurries to open the door and unsling his bag of herbs. Brev is behind him, leading a pony which is laden with several other bags.

[Honora(#17022)] Some distance up the path yet, a figure of a girl is strolling toward the hut, her footsteps quickening with the dimming of light through the trees. She stays straight on her course, as though the way is familiar to her, wrapped in a handsome green cloak and carrying a large, covered basket in her hands.

Brev turns to murmur to the pony in a soft, reassuring tone as he unloads the first of its bags. "Here we are. Don't even think of running off, 'less you want et by goblins or worse. Yon shed's safer," he nods toward the lean-to outside the hut used for wood. "Don't think he keeps Eagles. Chickens, maybe ..."

The pony flicks an ear in the direction of the murmurs - no alarm in the voice, no need to pay the human any attention - then lifts his head and whickers softly toward the new arrival.

Brev glances up, then stares. After a moment one corner of his mouth starts to twitch. "Evening," he greets the girl gravely.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks up at the sound of Mescan's nicker, and his mouth falls open. He darts a swift, horrified look at Brev. "Ah... Honora," he manages to croak. "I... din't know you were coming...."

Perhaps Brev takes pity on Gidon; perhaps he's merely not in the mood for company. In any case, he glances from one young person to the other, and offers, "I'll need to rub Mescan here down, get him settled for the night. Don't wait for me, eh?" A curt nod, then he moves round the side of the house. The tug he gives to the pony's rope (when it comes to pretty girls with baskets, the animal has no inhibitions) is perhaps harder than strictly necessary, for Mescan snorts and drags his feet.

As Brev ducks out of view, a disembodied murmur drifts back. "-share those fleas of yours. Kiern, no question who's got the better bedfellow ..."


Date added: 2010-06-20 16:18:39    Hits: 54
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