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Ever so many questions ...

Tags: Gidon,  Frarin,  Broddur,  Hinn,  Millili

Short Summary: Dwarves, a Breelad with something to hide and a pony-breeder's little girl full of 'satiable curiosity ...
Date (real-life): 2010-09-01
Scene Location: Bree: Inn-yard
Date (in-game): October 3050
Time of Day: Evening

An open air inn-yard is enclosed in the center of the Prancing Pony's compound. The yard is ringed in by the north and south wing of the Pony, and the eastern section of the building, which is set back into Bree-hill. On the fourth side bordering this yard is an archway, beyond which lies the Great East Road. The stables, which comprise the lower level of the south wing, are accessed through a set of large double doors.

Obvious exits:
 Kitchen leads to Kitchen.
 Downstairs Hallway leads to Short Passage.
 Double Doors leads to Stables.
 Archway leads to Under the Archway.

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Tue Aug 31 23:42:02 2010
Bree time: Late Night <04:06:06> on Mersday of Autumn - October 27,1450
Moon Phase: Last Quarter Moon

Breelands Weather
The late night autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is near black and studded with hundreds of stars. The moon is above the horizon and in its last quarter phase.

[Nob(#16122)] Evening falls to dusk, and stars begin to prick the western sky. A young man of 16 or so comes out of the stables, frowning. Apparently there was no one inside. It is Gidon Leafthicket - who has lived with his father in the remote areas of the Chetwood, until just recently, when bandits invaded his home, and the boy moved to rent rooms in Bree. He is wearing a over-large cloak that covers his crippled arm entirely. (re)

(Frarin just entered the yard leading a tired pony.)

Broddur is making little mumbling noises under his breath that might be snatches of a tune or might just be curses because the pipe between his lips has gone out. He empties it in a corner of the yard and starts refilling it with fresh baccy. Gidon is ignored entirely, but at the sight of Frarin he grunts out, "Ho there, cousin."

[Hinn(#30921)] In the light of dusk, shadows stretches and one will expect so. Yet the man walking and pulling on a set of ponies are abnormally tall, the head of him, hidden in the shade of the hood moves in awkward ways and stand disproportionately tall. A measured heavy gait, feet marks the ground, deep. One of the pony avoid the footprint and so it constantly waves left or right behind the man. Hinn eyes peer and his smile ignited by the presence of a third pony flashes from the hood, pretty low, judging by the outside shape. He stops and watch, uncertain. His lips part, but it's the voice of a little girl that rings out. Goad ev'ning!

[Nob(#16122)] The boy hesitates. There are the dwarves he has promised to speak to - but memories of the last dwarves he encountered keep him frozen in place. But then another man enters the courtyard; and Gidon steels himself. Surely, they won't beat up on him if there are witnesses!

"Evenin," he says quietly in response to the man's greeting, and walks towards the dwarves. "Are you - er - y'know - them bandits?"

[Frarin(#16183)] Frarin, the dwarf with the straggly beard and a pony at his side, slows his limping gait when Broddur calls to him, though he looks annoyed at having to do so. At the sight of Broddur, however, some of Frarin's annoyance seems to fade. "Mm? Oh, good eve, cousin. What bri--"

A flash of irritation returns when a silhouette materializes into a girl's voice as another enters the yard. And then Gidon speaks and Frarin comes full to a halt, swinging his head about like a bear surrounded. "What'd you bring a party for, Broddur? Can't a dwarf have a moment of peace?" The silversmith narrows his eyes at Gidon then, and frowns deeply. "Son, do I look like a bloody bandit?"

Broddur's gaze lifts from his pipe at Hinn's entrance. "Evening, master," he says gruffly, beard wagging, and then, as though belatedly realizing the voice must have come from somewhere else, "and youngling."

At Gidon's words he scowls fiercely, the old scars twisting like knotted cord. "Do we look-" Frarin's words beat him to it, and there's a rumble of laughter in his deep chest. Then, frowning: "Wait. Remember you, laddie. You can tell your friends from me that Broddur's pick will split them in two." Beard bristling, and pipe spilling good unlit baccy in all directions, he stomps suspiciously toward Gidon.

Hinn places his free hand on his hood before he carefully bows. "I am shortly by as I have to place these in the stable, folks." he says with a manly voice. The hood moves and then comes the girly voice again:"These awr dwarves dadoo?".

 No time to reply that the *hood* protest to the pressing hands as he raises."No, let me down, let me down!"

The man huffs and oblige, likely because the movement hurt his neck to badly because as a young girl emerges from underneath the hood, the cloak falls from Hinn's shoulder and he is rubbing his reddish neck.


[Nob(#16122)] Or ... maybe they will. Gidon's eyes widen in alarm and he backs up. "I meant," he fumbles to say to ease Frarin's insulted look, "You know them bandits? You - you're huntin' them?" He eyes Broddur's pick in fascinated horror. He doesn't dare to look away, even to see the girl who has clambered down from her father's shoulders.

[Frarin(#16183)] "Eh?" says Frarin gruffly. "What? Oh. Eh." The silversmith seems ill-prepared to carry on a conversation with a wide-eyed youth, as if he had hoped simply to slip into the inn unnoticed and eat his supper in peace. Before he has time to reply, however, the girl behind him is jumping down from the man's shoulders and Frarin takes a step back, as if recoiling at the idea of having to deal with a child at this time. Indeed, it seems Gidon benefits from that, for a quivering 16-year-old seems more appealing to Frarin than a curious little girl.

"Aye, we're hunting them. What of it? Of a mind to join, eh? Say Broddur, what's he done, mm?" he adds at the last to his fellow dwarf.

At the sound of the girlish complaints Broddur's head whips round, and he rubs at his ear as though bothered by a gnat's whining. When the child tumbles 'out' of the hood his mouth falls open slightly. "You Mennish folk carry younglings on your back like snails?" he asks Hinn, sounding bemused.

To Frarin he explains, "This here lad was causing trouble at South Gate a while back. Friend of the bandits, or somesuch weaselish thing. Sent some of the others to ask him questions, I did." He makes no move toward the pick, but brandishes the pipe menacingly toward Gidon. "You're their spy, eh? Been telling them where to hit next?" Oh dear. The dwarf doesn't seem in a 'listening' mood tonight.

    Getting closer as no one really pays attention to her, Milli looks to the nearest dwarf she reached by under his nose. "How did you get hair in there?".

Hinn hushes.
    "I'm terribly sorry, Mr...mr?".

Hinn look at everyone:"Milli, those gentlemen obviously have business to conduct.Please..."

"Is that real?" the little girl says, pointing at sometihng she saw, something near the drawf side. "Are you all comin' in pair?"

[Nob(#16122)] "No, but... I ain't!" Gidon starts out answering Frarin and ends by speaking indignantly to Broddur. He follows the pipe's movements, and swallows, taking another step away. And hurriedly, he says, "They're goin' t'th'Shire, if you set up ambushes, you c'n catch 'em when they come back." Getting all of that out, the lad turns as if he will flee - though there is no where to go but into the stables.

[Frarin(#16183)] "Oh re--what?" Listening to Broddur's explanation, Frarin begins to turn a dry look upon Gidon, but then there is somehow a child standing just before him. And it is amazing how even a curmudgeony dwarf can find himself thrown off guard by a child's questions about nose hair and mysterious, very heavy instruments at one's side.

"What?" Frarin repeats, looking down at Milli, then blinking and lifting his eyes to Hinn. "What? It-it's just there, that's all. This?" He pulls back the edge of his worn cloak, revealing a heavy war hammer with metal tinted blue. "It's just...for people who misbehave. Er, bad people, not little girls." Is that almost a softening of the edge in Frarin's voice? Nah, never, for the next moment he is glaring up at Hinn. "Frarin. Mr. Frarin. Is this yours?" he says, waving at the girl. In his fluster, he barely even noticed Gidon turn to flee.

At Milli's insistent piping voice Broddur glances down at the little girl. He draws his own conclusion as to what she's asking about: "It's a beard," he growls out. "Sign of the wisdom Mahal saw fit to grace /some/ of us with." Hinn's apology is answered with a sour nod, and nothing so useful as a name.

When Gidon turns as though to run, he growls out, "Not so fast, laddie. Mind telling us how you came by yon fascinating fact? And just why you expect us to believe you?" he mutters under his breath after, dark eyes regarding the nervous Gidon mistrustfully.

Frarin's words recall to him that there is another present, and he adds to Hinn without quite taking his eyes off Gidon, "You've the look of a travelling man, Master Pony-guide. Have /you/ seen hide nor hair of this bandit trouble? They told us all Bree's quivering over it."

[Hinn(#30921)] And the stable is exactly where Hinn needs to get the ponies. But now, with Milli investigating the dwarves, the poor father shifts his weight from one leg to the other. One of the pony starts chewing on his cloak while the other chew on the hem of his trousers and he doesn't react. His body seems sets in stone. Affectionate eyes falls regularly on his daughter, but when they embrace the whole situation, they turn to a more alarming distress.

 So, that's not fake? Milli says, motioning to touch to the big dwarf hand on the hammer with an extreme precaution, one finger only out of her closed fist.

All mine, Mister Frarin, Bowleggers, Hinn Bowleggers.
the man bows again.

I'm Millili. says the little one, bowing more comically, in echo of her father courtesy toward the dawrf.

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon stops - a step farther away, and half-turns to look back at Broddur. He edges towards the stables. "Can' tell, promised," he mumbles. But urgently goes on, "Y'got t'believe me! I ain' lying, honest."

[Frarin(#16183)] "Aye..." Frarin mutters apprehensively, holding his chin out a slightly as if to avoid touching Milli. "Eh, pleased to meet you. You think this is fake?" He taps the head of the great hammer and actually gives a gruff chuckle at last, half-smiling as he nods at Gidon. "If this were fake, you think that lad'd be quite so keen to be off?"

The brown pony at Frarin's side snorts impatiently and digs at the ground, which seems to recall the silversmith. He jabs a finger in Gidon's direction. "Mighty convenient, lad, your not being able to tell. Sounds to me like the excuse of a man caught with his back against the wall, eh cousin?"

Broddur rolls his eyes at Gidon's reticence. "By Mahal's beard!" he mutters. Something in Frarin's speech causes a rumbling in his chest that might be the beginnings of a laugh; he turns it into a cough. The question for him is answered by an emphatic nod. "Aye".

Then, disgustedly, he announces, "I'm off for a pipe. Cousin Frarin, see if /you/ can get any sense out of that one," here he indicates Gidon with a jerk of his head. "You've more patience for dealing with the Men-folk." He pauses for breath. "Good evening, Pony-Master," his beard dips in a polite bow to Hinn, "and youngling." For Milli he has a glare from under his bushy brows. Then he's stomping away.

[Hinn(#30921)] Milli follows the dwarf finger pointing at Gidon. She waddles a half turn, crosses her arms on her chest.:I don't like you. She announces with a poutting face. You're making Mr Farine grumpy.

Milli, please. Hinn begging to her.
That's not how I raise you up, young lady, that's impolite.

He finally moves, takes her by the arm and then crouches to take her by the full body as she tries to break free. Her feet kicks in the air because she is already off the ground.
Up we go, say thank you to the people and we go in that stable right now.

[Nob(#16122)] "I can't!" Gidon says desperately. "He'll get caught and they'll kill him! Please," he says to Frarin. "Just... it can't hurt, can it? Y'don't even got t'tell me nothing bout where you ambush 'em at or nothing. So I can't tell nobody, but - y'got to!"

[Frarin(#16183)] Frarin crosses his arms with a scowl, in very close, albeit unintentional, imitation of Milli. "Can't hurt, pah. Anytime I hear those words uttered, it seems bound that pain shall follow. Get you lost, boy," the dwarf growls, waving Gidon off. "I know what you look like when I find out you've led us on. And if you ask the lass here," he adds, patting the hammer at his side, "this ain't fake."

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon's eyes drop to the hammer, and there is evident fear in them. He swallows hard. "But..." he manages, anyways. "Will you? I ain't lyin," he repeats, "How d'I got t'get you t'believe me?"

Hinn picks the newly-tattering cloak with an unpleasant awe. His glance caught the hem of his trousers left leg and he sigh, even more, shaking his head and trying to keep the young squirming offspring of his tight enough so she stays in his control, yet not too much so she would break. Quite a feat for a muscular man like he is. Gidon shout and speaking of such dreary subject as being kill makes Hinn swallows and speeds his movement. Milli pesters million of half-questions as they move. She hears all and repeats it her way.Dadoo, he is going to hurt Mr Farine..

Frarin, Milli, F r a r i n. And no, everyone is civilised...Hinn says, casting a dark look at Gidon as he passes behind the lad to get in the stable. :No one is going to get hurt, Milli. Not here, not tonight and certainly not while you are looking.

Awe, makes Milli in a tone like she almost wished there was some action. Both the father, the daughter and the ponies vanish behind the double doors.

Frarin spares a glance for the departing Milli and Hinn, but then turns his glare back at Gidon, even as he makes to follow Hinn into the stable. "How? You tell us how you know, lad, that's how. There isn't a man among us dwarves who would let slip a name when a life's at stake. So until you tell me how you know, I'll not tell you what I'm doing." Yet the dwarf's words do not conceal all. For all his irritation and impatience to push past Gidon into the barn, there is a sense that Frarin is making more of the young man's words than he is perhaps letting on.

[Nob(#16122)] Miserably Gidon stares at Frarin. Finally, he bows his head to the inevitable. "M'friend," he says. "B-Brev. He went t'join th'bandits, pretend-like. Met him th'other night, he said they were talking th'Shire, an' I should tell you t'be ready." The boy's shoulders are slumped and he stares at the ground as if he has done some terribly shameful thing by giving away Brev's name and plan.

[Frarin(#16183)] Frarin's eyes narrow, but he comes to a slow halt again, the irritation and annoyance slowly giving way to deep thoughtfulness. He frowns in silence for a moment. "Hm," the silversmith grunts finally, his tone gentling ever so slightly. "Organized bandits, by Durin," he mutters. "Alright, lad, fine enough. Will you see him again soon? Tell him to take to wearing a red kerchief about his neck. If we're to ambush these bast--men, I doubt your friend will want to be mistaken for the wrong side. I'll tell my folk to watch for a red kerchief."

[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks up, a little hope dawning in his face, staring at Frarin, then he nods and gives the dwarf a fleeting smile. "'ll tell 'im. Thanks." He is gone, not having any desire to wait around to get better acquainted with axes or hammers.

Date added: 2010-09-01 05:06:57    Hits: 51
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