Elendor
Breakfast Club
A group of hobbits engage each other in conversation while they wait for a breakfast that never comes.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Brandy Hall, Bucklebury, Buckland
Game Date: Thrimidge 7, 1445, S.R.
IC Time: Between 1st and 2nd Breakfast
Weather: N/A
Description: Logfile from Elendor.
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Sun Nov 02 19:09:08 2008 (+time).
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IC Time is 07:27:24 on Sunday, Thrimidge (May) 7, 1445 S.R.
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IC Weather Conditions:
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The temperatures warm with the coming of Spring, and light rain showers down,
coaxing the many plants of the Shire back to life.
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WITH AN ALL-STAR CAST! Cicely, Bratto, Talvo, Chalcedony, Baltobras, and Boldibad!
Chalcedony
The foremost impression left by this ladyhobbit is one of sparkling brown eyes and a sweet, slightly tanned face. Not long in coming are her horrendously rowdy curls - nearly-black, thick ringlets that she has somehow forced back into a high bun. Despite her efforts, she was still unable to capture one, an especially naughty curl that falls into the left half of a pair of sparking, chocolate-colored eyes. A strange, flowing birthmark is emblazoned across that same temple. Her short person is wrapped in a long, full dress. The sapphire-blue fabric is fine, though the gown's design is simple - sleeves that extend to her wrists, a modest neckline, and a skirt that completely covers her furry feet and sweeps back into a nearly nonexistent train, held to her waist by a bright, emerald-green sash of sorts that dips to a point in the center. What little jewelry she wears is unpretentious - a polished, pale blue chalcedony on a silver chain round her neck, an engraved silver bracelet round one wrist, and the rings of a wife on her left hand. Slight callouses adorn her hands, callouses she wears as if they have always been there. Her movements, though touched with an undeniable clumsiness, are nevertheless confident, her build solid, and her manner practical.
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Germimac
A hobbit of average build and height, Germimac stands proud. Wide hazel eyes appear under long chesnut curls. His hair is also tinted with shades of chocolate brown and dark tan. Germimac's nose is small and pointy, appearing in the middle of his round face with chubby and rosy cheeks.
This hobbit's attire consists of a light blue shirt and a darker blue waistcoat. His trousers match the colour of his waistcoat and run down just below his knees. His feet being usually well groomed.
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Boldibad(#22742PeA+cf)
This is a hobbit of average height. His weight is, by Shire standards, respectable. Reddish, brown hair adorns his head, kept a couple of inches long and a little curly. His nose stands prominently out on his face, looking somewhat bulbous. Dimples peek out from each side of his mouth from time to time.
Trousers of a dark brown color adorn his lower half. A belt of black leather has been wrapped about his waist. The cuffs brush the top of his curled foothair.
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.
This hobbit's feet are not adorned by any form of shoe or boot. The hair that grows there is trimmed and combed nicely.
Carrying:
Boldibad's Fireworks Parent (FW)(#28171V)
Garden(#4884V)
Boldibad's Deluxe Fishing Hole Parent (FP)(#21281Van)
Bow
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Baltobras
Baltobras - A short hobbit with an average build, somewhere in his late forties. He has long, curling dark-brown hair. His green eyes are steady and direct, and look out calmly from a jovial dimpled face.
He is wearing a buff coloured shirt, over which is a rich moss green weskit with silver buttons. His matching green trousers go down to his booted feet, and are held up by a deep brown finely stitched leather belt with a silver buckle of cunning silver filigree work depicting ivy leaves. On his shoulders (in chilly weather, anyway) is a rich gray-green cloak lined with deep blue. His weskit has a fine silver chain for his pocket watch, and he carries a beautiful horn-handled walking stick. He also has a pouch or haversack slung on a leather strap over his shoulder. When mounted on his bay pony, Captain, he trades the walking stick for an equally beautiful horn-handled riding crop of ebony wood.
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Fadoric
A short hobbit, roughly two foot six in height. His rather plump belly hangs carefully over the front of his trousers. His face is cheerful, with his mouth often bent in a broad smile. He is clearly a lover of fine foods - the hobbit would be considered podgy, even by the standards of the largest hobbit. The corner of a packet of yoklat can be seen sticking out from the inside of his waistcoat.
He wears simple yet bright clothing from his head to his ankles, below which is a pair of large, heavy black boots, polished carefully. His pants are green, the shade of oak leaves after a gentle rain shower, crisp and bright. His shirt is blue, though it's mostly covered by his neat orange waistcoat.
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Cicely
Long, dark brown curls tumble down the young hobbit lass's shoulders to the middle of her back. Even in the dimmest light they shimmer like strands of gold. Short bangs cover her forehead, but make the rest of her pale-skinned face stand out. Small freckles blossom upon the little girl's small nose and rosy cheeks, like daisies in a meadow. Cicely's eyebrows arch ever so slightly, yet enough to be noticed, making them like paths a butterfly left behind along with the curves of its wings that the hobbit's lashes. Her eyes shimmer like stars in a dark, clear midnight sky independent of the light in her surroundings. They are of a chestnut brown color, with traces of other colors mixed in and curiousity burns within. The lass's lips are nothing of resemblance to roses, except for the very light pink-red color, which is still far from the flowers.
Cicely stands shorter than most hobbits her age, but her fingers, in contrast, are somewhat long. Dirt and other small debrees rest beneath her fingernails, as well as beneath the nails on her toes and covering her dusty, but soft with short curly hairs, feet.
Carrying:
Runty Lamb(#24849Vhnp)
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Chalcedony comes in through the large wooden doors.
Chalcedony has arrived.
Germimac comes in through the large wooden doors.
Germimac has arrived.
Talvo comes in through the large wooden doors.
Talvo has arrived.
Brandy Hall
As the doors of Brandy Hall swing open, the great and ancient lobby is revealed. It is a dark place, its walls high and rounded, constructed of highly polished mahogany with lighter pine accents throughout. Sconces adorn the walls, their elegant tapered candles casting a muted glow about the room. Most of the light, however, comes from three evenly spaced and rather immense fireplaces made of marbled stone, which nearly reach the ceiling. Around these hearths the Brandybucks have gathered a good number of sturdy, high-backed chairs, as well as a series of more comfortable padded ones. The color scheme seems to revolve around amber and maroon, as most of the chairs incorporate these colors. There are also some cherrywood tables set near the center fireplace, surrounded by chairs. The lobby draws you in with its warmth and promise of comfort.
Scores of hobbits bustle in and out of the Hall, intent on their errands. Tempting smells lilt their way up here, testing the will of even the busiest hobbits.
Contents:
Fadoric
Baltobras
Germimac
Chalcedony
Obvious exits:
Master's Apartment leads to Brandy Hall: Master Bedroom.
Merry's Room leads to Merry's Room.
Downstairs leads to Downstairs, Brandy Hall.
Upstairs leads to Upstairs, Brandy Hall.
Out leads to Entrance to Brandy Hall.
The bright sun of early Thrimidge does not seem to find its way into Brandy Hall. The place is busy with hobbits, mostly Brandybucks, going about their daily affairs. First breakfast is over, and noises can occasionally be heard from the direction of the kitchen, downstairs, as the cook and help get ready for the next meal.
Boldibad Bolger sits near the fireplace, a smoking pipe resting in one hand. He seems quite comfortable, and even has his eyes closed.
"Oh no you don't...get back here, Master Took!" A stern, matornly voice comes from the top of the stairs, overriding a giggle. A small lad appears from one of the apartments, running as fast as his chubby legs will carry him, his shirt still unbuttoned. Chalcedony Took materializes not far behind him, catching up to her son in a trice and scooping him up with practiced ease. Setting the wriggling child on her hip, she expertly buttons his shirt as she scolds, "Torodac Took, if there was ever a more slippery child than you born, I'll eat my new spring hat. Stay still!" Little Torodac simply giggles and writhes, saying, "Kitchen! Mama, can I go play?"
Sitting nearby Boldibad - and the fire - in a very comfortable leather chair, is Baltobras brandybuck, his walking stick leaning at an angle against the chair arm, a small piece of wood in one hand and a pocket knife in the other.
He is carving, and the little chips of wood from that task are flying, one by one, into the grate, making little popping noises as he works on the miniature horse that he is making from a piece of burl elm. He smiles at the noise, a brief flash of a twinkle in his eyes, and continues his work.
A long, jagged snore slips out of Boldibad's nose and throat. Startled, his eyes jerk open. Clearing his throat a few times, he shimmies into an upright position and looks down at his pipe. He sighs and takes a drag, leaning back in his chair once more. He rubs the back of his neck and glances at the seat next to him. "Eh," he mumbles, "What's that you're carving, Baltobras?" His eye catches the child as well, and he smiles in his direction. "G'morning, Mrs. Took!" he calls.
Chalcedony comes down the stairs, her son still on one hip, and waves across the room to Boldibad. "Good morning," she calls back cheerfully. Reaching the bottom of the steps, she sets the lad down and grasps his hand firmly. Torodac bounces cheerfully, waving. "Morning, Mr. Boldibad!" he says. "I'm going to the kitchen to eat!" He tugs on his mother's hand and tries to escape in that direction, to no avail.
Balto looks up from his work, as another chip of wood flies into the fire.
"Ah, just a little toy pony, such as the one Bardinbras' boy begged of me around Yule time. I make them once in awhile, when the mood is on me." The little knife flashes again and another tiny sliver of wood bounces off the hearth and into the grate.
At Boldi's greeting, he looks up to see which Mrs. Took is being greeted. "Ah, Good morning, you two!," says he. "And eating seems a fine idea to me, young fellow!"
"Yes, yes, I'm sure," a voice rises from the stairs leading down to the kitchen, every other word followed by the tap of a cane on the stone steps. "Won't bother you again, m'dear, I'm sure. Do apologise." Fadoric Brandybuck, his greying hair still punctuated by the occasional patch of light brown, appears from the staircase, a plain mahogany cane held in one hand, and a plate of biscuits, wobbling slightly, clutched in the other. Glancing up as he emerges from the staircase, the hobbit makes a beeline for the fireplace.
The doors open to let in another Brandybuck. He seems to shiver, regardless of the temperature and a pair of hazels glance about the place and a hand lifts slowly to greet a passing hobbit. A hand rests on one of his coat pockets and there it twirls the button. Upon closer notice the button is different than the ones in the rest of his coat. His other hand keeps busy at his hair which intends to flatten his curls.
Boldibad chuckles a bit and looks into the fire. "Bardinbras has a good lad," he responds. "He's growing like a vine, that one!" He crosses his legs and pokes his pipe between his teeth. Glancing around he adds, "Seems like second breakfast is coming up soon--when I fell asleep, there weren't but two or three others to be seen in the Hall!"
Chalcedony nods to Baltobras with a smile, "Good morning, sir," as Torodac nods emphatically. "Eating is one of the funnest things in the world, and Papa says it'll make be grow up big and strong like him, so I do it lots." He stills for a moment, looking curiously over at the horse taking shape under the shining knife. His mother's grip slackens just a bit, and as soon as it does, he wrenches his hand from hers and darts over. "A horsey? Can I see it?" he begs, as an exasperated "Torodac!" comes from Chalcedony. She shakes her head and mutters, "I swear, he's just like me. My poor mother."
"Not much longer, now," Fadoric replies to Boldibad's comment, "That's why I've been thrown out of the kitchen, but at least they had the courtesy to let me finish, first." The old hobbit gives a chuckle, and places his plate of biscuits down on the table. "May I join you?" he asks of the younger Brandybuck and, without waiting for an answer, collapses into a chair with a sigh, resting his cane against his leg. Fadoric then turns to the others and smiles warmly, his lined faced crinkling even more. "Good morning!"
"Oh, second breakfast is on foot by now, I daresay." Balto peers across to the hurrying servants. "And by the speed of yonder folk, we had best find some of it for ourselves pretty quickly!" he beams at the youngster.
"So, yes this is a pony I am making from a piece of wood." he holds it up for Toradoc to see. "Now be careful of the knife! I will let you hold the pony for a moment, even though his legs are not yet done." He holds out the toy to the youngster.
To Fadoric, he gives a warm chuckle. "Always room for one more bloke about the fireplace!"
After glancing about Germiman resumes his entrance. Quick feet take him to an empty seat which places him near the other hobbits already in conversation. His cheeks redden at the sight of Chalcedony, "Good m-morning." he utters as he takes out a notebook from one of his vest pockets. A pen appears as well and he starts scribbling. "Busy day?" He speaks again to the rest, eyes still on his notepad.
Boldibad can't help but smile as the company grows. He leans forward in his chair and empties his pipe into the fireplace. "Good morning, Mr. Brandybuck," he says to Fadoric. "Yes, this stout fellow over here may just eat everybody out of smial and home. And those biscuits do look delightful. Don't suppose you could spare one?" He nods to Germimac, but notices his attention is on a notepad. "And a good morning to you as well, sir. Well, here I find myself, once again, surrounded, mainly, by Brandybucks inside Brandy Hall--go figure, eh?" He chortles a bit as he repacks his pipe and searches his waistcoat for a flint/steel.
Torodac takes the pony with a great deal of care, his eyes wide. He runs a small hand over its head and mane, obviously quite impressed. Very gently, he hands it back to Baltobras. "I wanna learn to carve like that someday!" he says earnestly, looking over the arm of the chair. His mother shakes her head and a tiny smile pulls at the corner of her mouth, but, as the lad's not running off to the kitchens or into the fire, she lets him be for now. She turns her head to smile at Germimac as he arrives. "Morning, Germimac," she says. "Not so busy, just a smart-mouthed little lad who likes to sleep through first breakfast and expects to get something to eat before second. How are you doing?" At Boldibad's comment, she can't help but smile widely. "Only half a Took away from the full company being Brandybucks," Chalcedony says, nodding towards her son. "Well, he's small enough to count as half a hobbit, so possibly only a quarter." She shrugs and takes on a mock-sad expression. "Unless I no longer count as a Brandybuck, just because I got married." Chalcy can't hold it long, though, and grins widely once again.
"Very kind," Fadoric replies, beaming in Baltobras' direction. The old hobbit frowns slightly, and fishes a pair of glasses from his top pocket. Resting them lightly on the end of his nose, he frowns at Baltobras for a moment, and then laughs, "Ahh, I knew I recognised that voice. Good morning!" As Germimac joins the group, Fadoric turns to him and nods solemly. "Quite," he informs him, and gestures to the plate on the table. "I finished a batch of biscuits last night, but I fell asleep leaving them to cool. Been icing all morning!" Turning back to Boldibad, the Brandybuck nods. "Please, help yourself! Though the green waistcoats on the gingerbread hobbits might not have set quite yet. Just finished, you see!"
Balto is impressed by the gentle deftness of the young Hobbit, and smiles.
"Well well, we shall see about that when you have got a little older!" says he to the boy. "In the meanwhile, this pony not being spoken for, I shall finish carving it and then you shall have it for your own. But for now..." He takes a biscuit from the proffered plate. "...I'll make a trade - this biscuit for that pony. The one you can eat. The other needs his legs carved aright!" Balto chuckles merrily.
"Thank you, good morning" Germimac replies quietly his eyes dart quickly from Chalcedony to Torodac and then to Fadoric until he replies, "I'm g-good thank you Chalcedony." His pencil taps a few times on the notebook until finally his attention goes to the cookies and the icing. A hand reaches out to them, then returns to his spot and then tries to reach again for them before it decides to stay tucked under his other hand and his pencil. He gives them all a small grin before returning to his notes.
Chalcedony raises her eyebrows and walks over to her son. "What do you say to Mr. Baltobras, Torry?" Torodac, his wiggles apparently gone for now, folds his hands behind his back and says very politely, "Thank you very much, Mr. Baltobras!" A smile appears on his face. "Really? I can have it? And you're so good at carving, too! Wait'll Ruby and Ammy and Rey see!" Chalcedony gives up and stands once more, mussing her son's hair. "Those ginger-hobbits turned out very well," she notes. "Might I have one, as well? You made them look so tasty!"
Boldibad jests further, "Oh, Mrs. Took, I don't believe Brandybuckishness can possibly leave a hobbit completely! But, some would say that everybody has a little Brandybuck, deep down inside." He nods at Fadoric and eagerly takes two biscuits from the tray. As the conversation moves from person to person, he turns his eyes back to Germimac and says, "I don't believe we are acquainted, sir. I'm Boldibad Bolger of Budge Ford, originally, and of Bucklebury currently and temporarily. Don't tell me, with your pad and pen, that you are a reporter with a hundred questions!"
"That is quite a talent," Fadoric agrees, nodding at the wooden horse. "I used to enjoy carving m'self, when I was a boy, though I was never quite as good as you. Pipes and things, mostly, my uncle taught me." The old Brandybuck smiles at Torodac's enthusiasm before his mother distracts him. Turning to Chalcedony, Fadoric smiles warmly. "Thank you, m'dear, it's very good of you to say so. Of course you can! And would be so kind as to pass one to me, too? M'joints creak far too much lately."
Baltobras chuckles "You're welcome, my boy," as he releases the biscuit to Torry in exchange for the small pony. He raises his eyebrows and looks over to Chalcedony.
"And so, with compliments, mrs. Took, cousin Chalcy, Poor Balto gets to carve three more, when Ruby, Ammy and Rey all see!" He laughs heartily.
Balto smiles at the group round the fire as his hand strays to the plate for another biscuit, this one for himself.
Germimac's face gets some colour when Boldibad addresses him directly, "Oh yes, I a-apologise. I'm Germimac Brandybuck." His fingers close on the notepad and he shakes his head, "N-no no.. not at all. I'm not a reporter nor do I have questions, not many ..." He gives him a small smile and points, "I was just... writing something before I forget, that's all." The plate gets another glance and hessitantly he reaches out, this time taking one cookie and smiling relieved when food fills his mouth.
Chalcedony nods. "Of course, sir. And thank you very much." She suits word to action, handing Fadoric one ginger-hobbit and taking a smallish one for herself. She winks at Boldibad. "Well, Dharlon says I've never quite lost that Brandybuck wild streak, though one would think that four children would calm you down." She looks over at Baltobras and Torry, the latter now munching happily on the biscuit and calmed down quite a bit. She laughs along with the former. "My dear cousin, don't let my flock of children do that to you. They can learn to share. Generosity is a virtue no hobbit-child ought to grow up without learning." With that, she takes a far-too-large-to-be-ladylike bite out of the ginger-hobbit she's holding. Apparently, somewhere inside of Mrs. Dharlon Took, Miss Chalcy Brandybuck does indeed still reside.
Boldibad nods, "Well met, Mr. Brandybuck." He polishes off one of the biscuits, setting his pipe down in his lap. Then, leaning back in his chair, his crosses his legs again and prepares to start on the second gingerbread hobbit. "I will have to pay the Great Smials a visit someday soon," he says to Chalcedony. "I haven't seen old Dharlon in a good, long time. Don't suppose the old rascal's up to anything new, eh?"
"Thank you, dear," replies Fadoric, taking the biscuits from Chalcedony with a smile and resting it on his knee. "Oh ho, don't be so modest, young man," the old hobbit chastises Germimac. "This young fellow is always writing something, you know," he informs Boldibad, "quite a talent, if you ask me. Quite a talent indeed." Turning back to Germimac, Fadoric asks, "What's it you're writing now, lad?"
Baltobras pockets the knife and the little carving, while savoring his biscuit and listening. "Ah, Cousin, don't worry," he says. "It will take me so long to make three little ponies that they shall have plenty of time to share the first one finished!"
At Boldibad's speech, he perks up at the prospect of a little gossip. "Yes, yes," says he. "Is anything new happening in the Tooklands, cousin?"
Germimac swallows all in his mouth and then he coughs a few times, "I ... well ... I " He mutters and flips the pages of his notebook nervously, "Just something small... I thought well I think... perhaps I could write a small story." His eyes go to Fadoric, "Well I liked this setting and I thought I could use it for later, just... in.. case." He coughs one more time and finishes the rest of his biscuit.
Chalcedony inclines her head to Baltobras. "Thank you for offering to carve the little ones horses, cousin. It's very kind of you." At Boldibad's and Baltobras' query concerning the Southfarthing, she suddenly looks fiercely proud. "Actually," she says, standing a bit straighter, "we finished refurbishing the smial just last winter, and now we're looking to get the plantation started up again. Dharlon's in the Southfarthing as we speak, looking for workers to hire and doing research. That's part of the reason I'm here, to use the library. Everything I've read so far indicates that the soil on the plantation is perfect for a good pipeweed yeild. Hopefully, before next year, everything ought to be lined up and we can plant the first crop come next spring." She smiles, then looks down at Torodac. She needn't have worried, though, as he's still munching contentedly on his biscuit.
"Ahh, excellent!" replies Fadoric, beaming. "There's no finer place in all of Buckland than this, to be sure. What kind of a story?" Like the others, however, Fadoric is distracted by the prospect of good gossip, and turns his attention towards Chalcedony. "Oh ho, you're growing your own pipeweed? How splendid! I knew a lad tried to grow Old Toby in a plot down by the Brandywine, but the weather's not right here, and it didn't take. Cost him a small fortune. Won't grow right anywhere but the Southfarthing, Thain alone knows why."
Baltobras looks up. "Ah, you're welcome, dear Chalcy!"
Balto listens to the talk of pipeweed, and almost abently fishes for the pipe and pouch in his other weskit pocket.
As everyone converses around the fireplace, one of the cook's assistants comes nervously up the stairs from the kitchen. "Er, um," she gulps, "Second breakfast is going to be d-delayed. There's been a miscalculation of our stock. Terribly sorry." She quickly runs back down the stairs.
Boldibad nods, "I'm happy to hear about your plans, Mrs. Took. You should speak with Thilo Bracegirdle, down in Hardbottle--he's quite knowledgable of the subject!" He glances over his shoulder, "Breakfast--delayed? This must be a joke!"
"I was trying to write a mistery story." Germimac replies and then returns to his pages. "Not- not so sure of the ending yet." Germimac glnaces at the other hobbits and nods at Chalcedony and gives her a small smile.
Chalcedony nods and casts about for a chair, finding a small one and drawing it up to the fire and conversation. "Both of us are excited, to be sure. Hopefully, the place will be flourishing and making a nice profit by the time Dharlon and I pass on. We need to make sure we leave something behind us for - " And then the cook appears with her announcement, and Chalcy's eyes widen in horror. "Oh no!" she says. "I hope they figure that out soon!" Torry, having finished his biscuit, looks up at his mother with terrified eyes. "No second breakfast?" he says in a wobbly voice. "But I'm hungry!" He looks about ready to cry. Chalcy shakes her head. "No dear," she says, leaning forward and scooping him up. "It's only late. You'll get something to eat." She then hands the lad the rest of her ginger-hobbit. "And next time, you can make sure you get up on time for first breakfast, so you know you'll not be so hungry." Chalcy turns back to Boldibad. "Thilo Bracegirdle, I'll remember that and send him a letter. But Germimac, what was your mystery about? Not my house, I hope. We scared away all the ghosts there." She gives him a quick grin to show she's joking.
"A mystery novel? How exciting! What sort of mystery?" Fadoric's attention is stolen by the news about breakfast, however. Snorting, the old Brandybuck shakes his head. "I told her!" he calls at the back of the retreating kitchen assistant. "Scramble twice as many eggs, I said, when I was doing my icing! She wouldn't listen, told me to stop pestering her and leave! I told her!" The excitement of this outburst brings on a small coughing fit, but when he passes Fadoric sighs. "Well, in that case, I'd best keep my strength up. Would you be so kind as to pass me another biscuit, Mrs Took?" he asks, oblivious to the first one still sitting on his leg.
Boldibad peers at the tray, gulping. "It seems the biscuits are running low. Well, it could be worse--to have dinner delayed would be tragic! I'm always so hungry by that time..." He lights his pipe and sends tendrils of smoke rising into the air. "A good mystery is always fun to read," he comments then. "I will have to read your book as soon as it's finished, if that's ok with you, Mr. Brandybuck?"
Baltobras listens to his cousin's conversation, but at the kitchen-lass' interruption, Balto, a lifelong resident at the Hall, looks thunderstruck. "I've not heard words like those more than one other time under this roof!" he explodes. "Hospitality! It's our watchword! How can there be a mistake in the stock?"
He gives a grim look to Germimac. "There's your mystery story, lad!" He intones.
f
Germimac's fingers start twirling the corners of his notepad and he sinks back into his chair a little, "Well, it-- I thought it could involve missing food or... perhaps a misssing hobbit ... But I'm not sure... I haven't really written anything much, just a page." He glances at Chalcedony for a second, "P-perhaps we can talk about w-what happened. For-for ideas." There's a pause, "B-But I'll gladly show it to you mister Bolger." He coughs, "And of course, to the rest. But- I- I'm afraid it's not finished yet." He winces at the talk about the delayed food and sighs.
Mrs. Took does pass Fadoric another biscuit, listening intently to Germimac. "Of course we can discuss it later, if you like." Torodac munches quietly on his ginger-hobbit, getting a few crumbs on his mother's dress, but she doesn't seem to mind this too much. At Baltobras' words, however, Chalcedony tunrs and notes gently, though with a frown, "Even the best-run kitchens make a mistake sometimes. At the very least, this will scare them so much that there won't be another mistake for a very long time, though I agree, it's certainly a nasty error."
"I would have iced more, but that, that, that woman," he snorts again, "threw me out. And I doubt she'd let me back in now, given that I was quite right. Ahh, thank you, my dear." Smiling, the old Brandybuck takes the proffered biscuit from Chalcedony and decapitates the ginger-hobbit with a single bite. "I'm sure it'll be a thrilling tale, my lad," Fadoric announces to the younger Brandybuck, his words accompanied by a small spray of crumbs.
Boldibad nods, "This situation reminds me of the year the chickens, back at Bolger Smial, wouldn't lay any eggs! We suffered for three months. That was back in '29! Nobody ever did find out why it happened. I personally think there was thievery involved! But others would say there was a sickness among the birds... why, perhaps something from history, such as that, will inspire something new for your story, Mr. Brandybuck." He puffs upon his pipe.
Balto nods to his cousin Chalcy, and the rest. "I know it will put fear into them. But that's not my worst worry. We have quite a crowd of visitors this morning, and if things are not set right, our family table will be in disgrace."
Balto gathers up his stick and his tobacco pouch. "I had best be gone to the kitchen to inquire about the need for market-goods, and thence off to the market to find what is lacking!" He gives a little bow to everyone. "Please excuse me for leaving so abruptly, but I really must be sure that we have not got ourselves into a pickle over this!" He smiles a bit forcedly. "Good bye for the present."
So saying, Balto takes hasty leave of the party and disappears in the direction of the kitchens.
Baltobras wanders upstairs, into the residential part of Brandy Hall.
Baltobras has left.
"It was nice seing you, I think .. I think I will just go and leave this upstairs before I eat. And ... and yes. I lost one the other day and I wouldn't like that." He stands up rapidly and a lone crumb makes its way down from his trousers to the floor. "I- Have.. have a nice day." And with a small and quick bow he's off in quick steps towards the stairs.
Chalcedony nods to Baltobras, "That's true, we don't want to look hostile. Good luck, cousin! And good day, Germimac!" She waves good-bye, and Torry follows suit. "Bye, Mr. Baltobras! And Mr. Germimac!" the lad calls. He then returns to his ginger-hobbit, the green waistcoat coloring the corners of his mouth.
"Ah, yes, I remember that! There were some Big Folk passing through the Shire the month before, and some said they'd cursed them. Nonsense, of course, but it caused quite a ruckus in the 'Pipe for a while." Nodding to Baltobras, Fadoric smiles warmly. "Good man, good man. Someone needs to sort this nonsense out, and goodness knows /she/ won't get it right." As Germimac also makes his departure, the elder Brandybuck lifts a hand and waves. "I shall look forward to reading the first draft, don't let me forget!" Reaching for the rest of his biscuit, Fadoric deprives of it it's legs, and then pops the last piece into his mouth.
Boldibad nods his head, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brandybuck, and I am also eager to read your book upon its completion. I live on Ferry Lane, just across from the entrance to Brandy Hall!" He blows a couple of smoke-rings. "Yes," he says to Fadoric, "I remember seeing those long-leggers... nobody believed me, until more and more people saw them in the area! If they didn't curse the chickens, they stole the eggs and let us go hungrier than we should have. Mark my words, friends: Never--Trust--Men!"
Chalcedony looks at Boldibad. "I don't know, about that," she says thoughtfully. "I do agree that there are many that are untrustworthy, but there are certainly a good number that are honest. I met one or two in my younger days. At one point, I'd scraped up my hand badly, and one of the Big Folk bound it up for me. It healed as quickly and neatly as anything I've ever seen, and I had no other ill effects from it. And I've been in their company with my Amarinda once, completely unexpectedly and accidentally, and we were unharmed and treated with respect. Some of them are perfectly civilized and benevolent."
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with interacting with them, certainly," Fadoric agrees with Chalcedony. "Why, I've done business with them several times, don't you know. But you certainly can't trust them, and if I were you I'd be careful letting the young ones near them. They can be civilized, but you can't trust it to last. They're like dogs. Even the tamest will bite sometimes, for no apparant reason." This statement is punctuated with a bite of Fadoric's second biscuit, splitting it in half and sending crumbs cascading down his waistcoat and onto the floor.
Boldibad nods, "Quite right, Mr. Brandybuck. But, like dogs, there are tame and wild ones. The wild ones, from what I've heard, will make themselves appear to be tame. They're awfully tricky. That's why I'll never trust one!" He puffs, again on his pipe. "But, thankfully, I've never had a problem with one directly. It's quite a safe place, Budge Ford." He peers over at the tray, "And, are there any more of your biscuits, Mr. Brandybuck?"
A shrug. "It was certainly not my choosing, running into them with Ammy," Chalcedony notes. "We were lucky that they were simple visitors from Bree. I don't like going too near strange Big Folk if I can help it, not now." Chalcedony looks down at Torry. "In my younger days, I was a bit of a rover, but now, I have others to think of, and I'm not so adventurous." She strokes her son's curls, and he curls against her. "It's a trade well worth the making."
Cicely has arrived.
"All Big Folk are strange," Fadoric retorts, and chuckles at his own comment. "But that's quite right, Mrs Took. Wandering the Shire is all well and good when you're young - I did some of it myself! - but not something hobbits of our advanced years should be doing." He laughs again, then turns his attention to Boldibad. "Yes, you're lucky in that respect, Mister Bolger. They often don't pass further than Stock, if they even cross the river. But the Guard keep the worst of them at bay, only let those who are worth trading with come through, most of the time. Ahh, I'm afraid those are all the ones I'd iced, and I fear this wouldn't be the best time to get the others from the kitchens."
Boldibad clears his throat, slightly uncomfortably. "It's a risk I just can't take, dealing with a big folk. Have you good hobbits heard? Heard of the strange folk sneaking around the South Farthing? A lot of folks've been seeing them. From what I hear, they aren't from Bree, by their looks. Why, there're plenty of similar reports from all over the Shire! What next, eh?" He sighs, then, when the older gentlehobbit breaks the news of the biscuits. "Oh well, I suppose late breakfast can't be too far off, now."
Chalcedony sits, listening quietly to the conversation, when something catches her eye. It is a small hobbit-lass in a a cheerful red dress, her dark, rowdy curls pulled back with a red ribbon - all except for one, which falls carelessly over he left eye. She looks, in fact, like a miniature version of her mother, who waves her over. "Hi, Ruby," says Torry. "I'm hungry." Ruby looks at him scornfully. "You slept in, that's your fault." Chalcedony cuts in. "Ruby, that's enough. Come here a moment." Chalcedony leans over and whispers something in her daughter's ear, then nods and shoves the lass gently towards the kitchens. "And make sure you're quick!" she says. Chalcedony then settles back into her chair, looking completely innocent.
"I can't say I blame you, not a bit," Fadoric replies to the Bolger. "I've done trade with them in the past, but I'm too old to be dealing with them now. Longbeards, now, they're even worse. I don't know why the Bounders let them in, they're nothing but trouble, I've found." The old hobbit shakes his head at Boldibad's words, and answers, "I should hope not. I didn't miss first breakfast, and I'm certainly hungry." The old hobbit shoots a bemused smile at Ruby as the girl runs off, then looks at her mother and asks with a grin, "Dare I enquire?"
As the hobbits' discussion carries on, a small figure that may have otherwise not been very noticable from stillness and silence gains some vivacity. Like a shadow from the flickering flames, the little lass moves inconspicuously toward the discussion table. Long brown curls tumble like a waterfall over her shoulders, around a somewhat pale freckled-face, but her eyes reveal themselves to be those of a certain Cicely Gamwich, sparkling as always like stars in clear midnight skies of curiousity.
Boldibad's eyes widen, "Don't get me started on longbeards! They'll carry you off in the middle o' the night, they will. Why, I heard rumors that's what happened to poor Bilbo Baggins. By now, I'm sure you've all heard that name--it was quite a story when it happened." He sighs, "But, if I don't have food soon..." He then follows Fadoric's lead and shimmies in his chair to face Chalcedony with a good-natured grin on his face. "What are you up to, Mrs. Took?"
Chalcedony retains her innocent expression, though it appears quite difficult, as her eyes are twinkling brightly. "You may ask such things, sirs, all you wish," she says cheerfully, "but I may or may not answer. Delicacy is the privledge of a lady." She sits primly in her chair, very carefully not looking towards the door to the kitchens. Torodac shifts in Chalcy's lap. "Mommy, did you ever meet longbeards?" The ladyhobbit nods. "One or two when I went to Bree with Papa, but I never made friends with them, so I don't know any well enough to speak of them well or ill."
At the mention of a particular Baggins, Fadoric simply snorts and mutters something under his breath, and instead turns to Chalcedony, giving a soft chuckle at her response. "Of course, I do apologise," he replies, though his curiousity has clearly not been silenced, and the old Brandybuck turns and glances towards the staircase leading to the kitchens. With no sign of Ruby's reappearance, his focus wanders back to the group, and the newcomer's arrival is noticed. "Good morning, lass," Fadoric greets Cicely. "If you're waiting for breakfast, I'm afraid there's been," he rolls his eyes, "a delay."
Boldibad winks in Torodoc's direction. "And there never was a shortage of naughty hobbit boys and girls who those longbeards took away! It's a good thing you're a well-mannered lad!" He pokes his pipe back in teeth.
The bright little eyes blink quickly and the rest of the little hobbit's face appears above the table edge as she pulls herself up with her hands, up, up on her tiptoes. "Oh," says she, in a succinct, sweet little manner, "that be unfortunate." A sigh escapes her, although it doesn't seem she is so upset by the lack in food. "Maybe a story about the bigfolk pass the time, would then?" Her cheeks flush a little pink, but a big grin graces the little visage.
Torodac nods emphatically. "I'm a good lad! Longbeards would never come steal me away." Chalcedony, unnoticed by her son, looks quite amused at this proclamation. "Not even if you slept in or your area in the nursery at home is a mess, Master Took?" she asks pointedly. A shake of the head, and she musses his hair again. Before she can say anything else, however, the pitter-patter of small feet sounds from the direction of the kitchens and a steaming platter of twelve sticky, frosted cinnamon buns appears, borne by little Ruby Took. A smug smile spreads across Chalcedony's face. "That's my girl," she murmurs as the lass arrives. "Right there, Ruby," she says, indicating a place next to the now-empty biscuit tray. "And then pick your own out."
Fadoric watches the exchange between Torodac and the others with obvious amusement, chuckling at the lad's obstinate proclaimation of innocense. The reappearance of the boy's sister is of more interest, however, and the Brandybuck's eyes follow the plate all the way to the table. "Oh ho, well done, young lady!" he booms, sitting forwards with a little effort and reaching to take one of the buns. "Well done indeed! And certainly," he adds, turning to Cicely, "if you have a story, I'm sure we'd all be delighted to hear it."
Cicely blushes a little more and averts her eyes toward the floor for a moment, but then looks right back, taking the time to look every hobbit in the eyes directly. "Well, sir, I only met a bigfolk once. Really tall, he was, but that's not much story to tell there. I did once meet a great big wolf, if you would like to know! Now there is an experience never I be forgetting." She gives a big nod, very serious-like, but at the same time, her features are overflowing with with an adventurous sort of mischief.
"Well," says Boldibad, "I'll be a Hornblower! Hello, little Miss! What a small land this Shire is. You are the girl that helped me gather my..." he glances around suspiciously for a second. "My unimportant... papers..." Clearing his throat, he agrees with Fadoric. "It's a pity Mr. Germimac isn't here any longer--he might have enjoyed to hear this story!" He smiles uncontrollably at the sight of the food and leans forward as well, grabbing one as soon as he has a fair chance to do so.
Ruby takes the largest, stickiest bun for herself and settles in at her mother's feet. Mrs. Took hands a bun to Torodac, then secures one for herself. "Well done, Ruby." Ruby nods and attacks her bun with abandon, her bother doing the same. Chalcedony herself listens to a Cicely with interest. She jerks a little at the mention of a wolf, but says nothing.
"I'm sure he would," Fadoric agrees, "but if our young friend here can't recount it for him later, I will be certain to do so." The Brandybuck gives Cicely a warm smile, and encourages her, "Do tell us what happened, young lady. I fear we may all starve, without something to distract us." Though this is apparantly not quite true, as the words have barely left Fadoric's mouth when they're replaced by the sticky bun.
The little lass takes a couple of steps away from the table and her eyes become a bit distant. "Well," she begins, "I had been out playing, uh, late might be said." She turns pink yet again at the confession. "But the sun was setting less late then, so it didn't seemed that long. And it was getting dark and I was outside heading home." She takes a few prancy sort of steps as if she were heading somewhere, then directs a piercing gaze back at the hobbits. "Then all of a sudden, I heard a howl." Her eyes get wide and she licks her lips, "And it came again, and it got closer and closer!" With each "closer" she takes a step toward the table, loowering her head so she has to look up from beneath her forehead to see the hobbits. "I thought my heart was about shrivel like an unharvested tomato in the winter it was so scary! And I wanted to scream, but it was like winter had frozen my voice. And then..." She pauses, "Then two big glowing green orbs appeared! I thought it wouldn't be good to meet their owner, so's I climbed al quick up a tree!" She makes a fast motion and jumps onto a chair, looking back the ground that she just came off of, then at the hobbits. "And then it came, all huge and black. It was bigger than me! Almost as big as a big pony!" A deep breath... "And it looked around... and sniffed..." She sniffs and stretches her head toward the others, "And looked up... And saw me! I thought I was bout to be eated. I stayed as still as I could, but then more howling echoed." She looks toward the doors as if hearing something, "And far away again, and the wolf went toward it and I went home..."
Boldibad chuckles a bit. "Well, if it was me, I don't know what I'd have done. A fine story, indeed! It was very... animated!" He finishes off his sticky bun and removes his handkerchief to wipe his hands. "It's a good thing the bounders are on their toes, or we'd likely have a lot of encounters like that!"
The cook's assistant comes up to the top of the stairs. "Everyone," he says, "it's almost time to eat. Just a little longer. Lunch will be served early today!" She hurries back down the stairs as several waiting Brandybucks groan hungrilly.
Chalcedony is listening with interest. Torodac is quite captivated, slowly eating his sticky bun, but Ruby looks supremely disinterested, especially after it's clear Cicely escaped unharmed. "Pffsh," she says, not even bothering to look at the other lass, "that's nothing. Mama got fought a wolf in winter once, and it bit her, too." Chalcedony starts. "Ruby Took! That's horribly rude. Apologize immediately." Ruby looks indignant. "But you did!" she protests. Chalcedony gives her daughter a look, and the lass wilts a bit. "Sorry," she says to Cicely, clearly not meaning it. Chalcedony shakes her head. "Oh, good, the food's almost done," she mutters darkly.
"How dreadful!" replies Fadoric, eyes slightly wider than before. "But it sounds like you were terribly brave, young lady - and terribly lucky! Goodness me. But very well told." The old hobbit shoots Chalcedony a sympathetic look - though whether because of her apparant encounter with a wolf, or her daughter's bad behaviour is unclear. The rest of the Brandybuck's sticky bun is then forced into his mouth - somewhat luckily preventing a further outburst at the cook's assistant. "Well, in all my time. Second breakfast, skipped! Unheard of! I had better hope they're putting on a good fare for lunch, I could eat a horse!"
Cicely grins widely, "Thank you." She climbs down from the chair and advances toward the table when Ruby speaks. "Oh," she says, again in a short, innocent tone. "I'm sorry to hear one bit you, ma'am." Unwavered by the lack of apologetic tone in Ruby's sorry, she gives a smile and replies, "It's alright. It must be a grand story!" Her eyes go back and forth between the lass and her mother.
Boldibad tsks, "Why, Mrs. Took," he says, a look of concern on his face. "Is it true?" He turns his attention away from the children.
Chalcedony nods to Boldibad. "It is, actually." She looks over at Cicely and smiles wryly. "It's not a bad one, but I must say that I'm the one who lived it, so of course I think it's better than it is." Torodac looks up at his mother. "Tell the story, Mama, please!" Chalcedony sighs, but smiles at her son. "All right, then, Torry. If you insist. It was deep winter, and I had just come home from a journey to Hobbiton. Snow was everywhere, and a few patches of ice, too. I crossed the Brandywine on Bucklebury Ferry and landed with no trouble, but as I was walking home, a wolf appeared from the north, growling and baring his fangs at me. I froze, but he came at me, still growling." Chalcedony leans back, closing her eyes and remembering. "I was terrified. I made to go back to the ferry and safety on the water, but my foot slipped on a patch of ice and down I went. That monster was on me in a twinkling and sunk his fangs into my right arm." She holds the indicated arm up, a small ring of old scars visible in the firelight. "I managed to hit him once or twice and struggle away. He stayed a few feet in front of me, and I thought for sure I was going to die. I managed to roll a snowball and threw it at his as hard as I could, which distracted him long enough from me to roll another one, this time with a rock in it. It hit him square in the face and I ran for the shed. I made it just in time and bolted it behind me. It was along, hungry, cold wait for him to leave." Her tale finished, Chalcy opened her eyes. "My arm was bandaged for a long while after that, but I was lucky. I'm still alive." She hugs her son tightly for a moment.
"Goodness!" mutters Fadoric once more as Chalcedony finishes her own story. "I had no idea the things were quite so prevelant in the Shire! Not in Bucklebury, at any rate." The old hobbit shakes his head. "Simply shocking. But I am glad that you came away from it at least relatively unharmed, Mrs Took. What an awful thing to have happened."
Brown curls tumble into the hobbit lass's face as she nods in agreement with Fadoric. "Aye." She looks at Ruby, "Your mama did have quite a encounter, huh? I sorta was curious where the wolf went after. There was sheep disappearin' for some time after I saw the pony-size wolf. Did you had any problems like that?" She looks at Chalcedony, eyes wide. "Or did you ever see it again?"
Boldibad nods, "Wolves are dangerous creatures. You are quite a quick thinker, Mrs. Took, to throw those snowballs at the beast! I don't know what I'd have done, myself. Perhaps the Shire needs more Bounders, eh?"
Chalcedony shakes her head. "No, I never saw it again. It's so rare for wolves to be in the Shire, and so rare for them to attack hobbits. Most of the time, they stay far away..." Her face darkens for a moment, but then she shakes her head. "But not always. That's why it's so important to be careful when you're out on your own, and so much safer to travel in groups." She ponders Boldibad's words for a half-moment. "I don't know," she adds thoughtfully. "It's not happened for so long. More Bounders certainly couldn't hurt, though. I don't wish that on anyone."
"Something's needed, at any rate. Though, right now," Fadoric chuckles, "I think it's my lunch. Will you all excuse me? I'm going to go and see if.." Picking up his cane, the old hobbit pushes himself slowly to his feet, letting out a deep sigh as he gets up straight. ".. I can't find out what the delay is," he finishes. "It's been a rare pleasure to sit and talk with you all. I hope we can talk more at lunch, if it's ever served! Do excuse me." With a nod to each of the group, the Brandybuck turns and shuffles off, disappearing down the stairs to the kitchen.
Suddenly, a snore drifts out from Boldibad. He seems to have quietly passed into another dreamy state as the conversation goes on.
< END >
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Sun Nov 02 19:09:08 2008 (+time).
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IC Time is 07:27:24 on Sunday, Thrimidge (May) 7, 1445 S.R.
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IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
The temperatures warm with the coming of Spring, and light rain showers down,
coaxing the many plants of the Shire back to life.
===============================================================================
WITH AN ALL-STAR CAST! Cicely, Bratto, Talvo, Chalcedony, Baltobras, and Boldibad!
Chalcedony
The foremost impression left by this ladyhobbit is one of sparkling brown eyes and a sweet, slightly tanned face. Not long in coming are her horrendously rowdy curls - nearly-black, thick ringlets that she has somehow forced back into a high bun. Despite her efforts, she was still unable to capture one, an especially naughty curl that falls into the left half of a pair of sparking, chocolate-colored eyes. A strange, flowing birthmark is emblazoned across that same temple. Her short person is wrapped in a long, full dress. The sapphire-blue fabric is fine, though the gown's design is simple - sleeves that extend to her wrists, a modest neckline, and a skirt that completely covers her furry feet and sweeps back into a nearly nonexistent train, held to her waist by a bright, emerald-green sash of sorts that dips to a point in the center. What little jewelry she wears is unpretentious - a polished, pale blue chalcedony on a silver chain round her neck, an engraved silver bracelet round one wrist, and the rings of a wife on her left hand. Slight callouses adorn her hands, callouses she wears as if they have always been there. Her movements, though touched with an undeniable clumsiness, are nevertheless confident, her build solid, and her manner practical.
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Germimac
A hobbit of average build and height, Germimac stands proud. Wide hazel eyes appear under long chesnut curls. His hair is also tinted with shades of chocolate brown and dark tan. Germimac's nose is small and pointy, appearing in the middle of his round face with chubby and rosy cheeks.
This hobbit's attire consists of a light blue shirt and a darker blue waistcoat. His trousers match the colour of his waistcoat and run down just below his knees. His feet being usually well groomed.
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Boldibad(#22742PeA+cf)
This is a hobbit of average height. His weight is, by Shire standards, respectable. Reddish, brown hair adorns his head, kept a couple of inches long and a little curly. His nose stands prominently out on his face, looking somewhat bulbous. Dimples peek out from each side of his mouth from time to time.
Trousers of a dark brown color adorn his lower half. A belt of black leather has been wrapped about his waist. The cuffs brush the top of his curled foothair.
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.
This hobbit's feet are not adorned by any form of shoe or boot. The hair that grows there is trimmed and combed nicely.
Carrying:
Boldibad's Fireworks Parent (FW)(#28171V)
Garden(#4884V)
Boldibad's Deluxe Fishing Hole Parent (FP)(#21281Van)
Bow
-----------------------------------
Baltobras
Baltobras - A short hobbit with an average build, somewhere in his late forties. He has long, curling dark-brown hair. His green eyes are steady and direct, and look out calmly from a jovial dimpled face.
He is wearing a buff coloured shirt, over which is a rich moss green weskit with silver buttons. His matching green trousers go down to his booted feet, and are held up by a deep brown finely stitched leather belt with a silver buckle of cunning silver filigree work depicting ivy leaves. On his shoulders (in chilly weather, anyway) is a rich gray-green cloak lined with deep blue. His weskit has a fine silver chain for his pocket watch, and he carries a beautiful horn-handled walking stick. He also has a pouch or haversack slung on a leather strap over his shoulder. When mounted on his bay pony, Captain, he trades the walking stick for an equally beautiful horn-handled riding crop of ebony wood.
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Fadoric
A short hobbit, roughly two foot six in height. His rather plump belly hangs carefully over the front of his trousers. His face is cheerful, with his mouth often bent in a broad smile. He is clearly a lover of fine foods - the hobbit would be considered podgy, even by the standards of the largest hobbit. The corner of a packet of yoklat can be seen sticking out from the inside of his waistcoat.
He wears simple yet bright clothing from his head to his ankles, below which is a pair of large, heavy black boots, polished carefully. His pants are green, the shade of oak leaves after a gentle rain shower, crisp and bright. His shirt is blue, though it's mostly covered by his neat orange waistcoat.
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Cicely
Long, dark brown curls tumble down the young hobbit lass's shoulders to the middle of her back. Even in the dimmest light they shimmer like strands of gold. Short bangs cover her forehead, but make the rest of her pale-skinned face stand out. Small freckles blossom upon the little girl's small nose and rosy cheeks, like daisies in a meadow. Cicely's eyebrows arch ever so slightly, yet enough to be noticed, making them like paths a butterfly left behind along with the curves of its wings that the hobbit's lashes. Her eyes shimmer like stars in a dark, clear midnight sky independent of the light in her surroundings. They are of a chestnut brown color, with traces of other colors mixed in and curiousity burns within. The lass's lips are nothing of resemblance to roses, except for the very light pink-red color, which is still far from the flowers.
Cicely stands shorter than most hobbits her age, but her fingers, in contrast, are somewhat long. Dirt and other small debrees rest beneath her fingernails, as well as beneath the nails on her toes and covering her dusty, but soft with short curly hairs, feet.
Carrying:
Runty Lamb(#24849Vhnp)
-----------------------------------
Chalcedony comes in through the large wooden doors.
Chalcedony has arrived.
Germimac comes in through the large wooden doors.
Germimac has arrived.
Talvo comes in through the large wooden doors.
Talvo has arrived.
Brandy Hall
As the doors of Brandy Hall swing open, the great and ancient lobby is revealed. It is a dark place, its walls high and rounded, constructed of highly polished mahogany with lighter pine accents throughout. Sconces adorn the walls, their elegant tapered candles casting a muted glow about the room. Most of the light, however, comes from three evenly spaced and rather immense fireplaces made of marbled stone, which nearly reach the ceiling. Around these hearths the Brandybucks have gathered a good number of sturdy, high-backed chairs, as well as a series of more comfortable padded ones. The color scheme seems to revolve around amber and maroon, as most of the chairs incorporate these colors. There are also some cherrywood tables set near the center fireplace, surrounded by chairs. The lobby draws you in with its warmth and promise of comfort.
Scores of hobbits bustle in and out of the Hall, intent on their errands. Tempting smells lilt their way up here, testing the will of even the busiest hobbits.
Contents:
Fadoric
Baltobras
Germimac
Chalcedony
Obvious exits:
Master's Apartment leads to Brandy Hall: Master Bedroom.
Merry's Room leads to Merry's Room.
Downstairs leads to Downstairs, Brandy Hall.
Upstairs leads to Upstairs, Brandy Hall.
Out leads to Entrance to Brandy Hall.
The bright sun of early Thrimidge does not seem to find its way into Brandy Hall. The place is busy with hobbits, mostly Brandybucks, going about their daily affairs. First breakfast is over, and noises can occasionally be heard from the direction of the kitchen, downstairs, as the cook and help get ready for the next meal.
Boldibad Bolger sits near the fireplace, a smoking pipe resting in one hand. He seems quite comfortable, and even has his eyes closed.
"Oh no you don't...get back here, Master Took!" A stern, matornly voice comes from the top of the stairs, overriding a giggle. A small lad appears from one of the apartments, running as fast as his chubby legs will carry him, his shirt still unbuttoned. Chalcedony Took materializes not far behind him, catching up to her son in a trice and scooping him up with practiced ease. Setting the wriggling child on her hip, she expertly buttons his shirt as she scolds, "Torodac Took, if there was ever a more slippery child than you born, I'll eat my new spring hat. Stay still!" Little Torodac simply giggles and writhes, saying, "Kitchen! Mama, can I go play?"
Sitting nearby Boldibad - and the fire - in a very comfortable leather chair, is Baltobras brandybuck, his walking stick leaning at an angle against the chair arm, a small piece of wood in one hand and a pocket knife in the other.
He is carving, and the little chips of wood from that task are flying, one by one, into the grate, making little popping noises as he works on the miniature horse that he is making from a piece of burl elm. He smiles at the noise, a brief flash of a twinkle in his eyes, and continues his work.
A long, jagged snore slips out of Boldibad's nose and throat. Startled, his eyes jerk open. Clearing his throat a few times, he shimmies into an upright position and looks down at his pipe. He sighs and takes a drag, leaning back in his chair once more. He rubs the back of his neck and glances at the seat next to him. "Eh," he mumbles, "What's that you're carving, Baltobras?" His eye catches the child as well, and he smiles in his direction. "G'morning, Mrs. Took!" he calls.
Chalcedony comes down the stairs, her son still on one hip, and waves across the room to Boldibad. "Good morning," she calls back cheerfully. Reaching the bottom of the steps, she sets the lad down and grasps his hand firmly. Torodac bounces cheerfully, waving. "Morning, Mr. Boldibad!" he says. "I'm going to the kitchen to eat!" He tugs on his mother's hand and tries to escape in that direction, to no avail.
Balto looks up from his work, as another chip of wood flies into the fire.
"Ah, just a little toy pony, such as the one Bardinbras' boy begged of me around Yule time. I make them once in awhile, when the mood is on me." The little knife flashes again and another tiny sliver of wood bounces off the hearth and into the grate.
At Boldi's greeting, he looks up to see which Mrs. Took is being greeted. "Ah, Good morning, you two!," says he. "And eating seems a fine idea to me, young fellow!"
"Yes, yes, I'm sure," a voice rises from the stairs leading down to the kitchen, every other word followed by the tap of a cane on the stone steps. "Won't bother you again, m'dear, I'm sure. Do apologise." Fadoric Brandybuck, his greying hair still punctuated by the occasional patch of light brown, appears from the staircase, a plain mahogany cane held in one hand, and a plate of biscuits, wobbling slightly, clutched in the other. Glancing up as he emerges from the staircase, the hobbit makes a beeline for the fireplace.
The doors open to let in another Brandybuck. He seems to shiver, regardless of the temperature and a pair of hazels glance about the place and a hand lifts slowly to greet a passing hobbit. A hand rests on one of his coat pockets and there it twirls the button. Upon closer notice the button is different than the ones in the rest of his coat. His other hand keeps busy at his hair which intends to flatten his curls.
Boldibad chuckles a bit and looks into the fire. "Bardinbras has a good lad," he responds. "He's growing like a vine, that one!" He crosses his legs and pokes his pipe between his teeth. Glancing around he adds, "Seems like second breakfast is coming up soon--when I fell asleep, there weren't but two or three others to be seen in the Hall!"
Chalcedony nods to Baltobras with a smile, "Good morning, sir," as Torodac nods emphatically. "Eating is one of the funnest things in the world, and Papa says it'll make be grow up big and strong like him, so I do it lots." He stills for a moment, looking curiously over at the horse taking shape under the shining knife. His mother's grip slackens just a bit, and as soon as it does, he wrenches his hand from hers and darts over. "A horsey? Can I see it?" he begs, as an exasperated "Torodac!" comes from Chalcedony. She shakes her head and mutters, "I swear, he's just like me. My poor mother."
"Not much longer, now," Fadoric replies to Boldibad's comment, "That's why I've been thrown out of the kitchen, but at least they had the courtesy to let me finish, first." The old hobbit gives a chuckle, and places his plate of biscuits down on the table. "May I join you?" he asks of the younger Brandybuck and, without waiting for an answer, collapses into a chair with a sigh, resting his cane against his leg. Fadoric then turns to the others and smiles warmly, his lined faced crinkling even more. "Good morning!"
"Oh, second breakfast is on foot by now, I daresay." Balto peers across to the hurrying servants. "And by the speed of yonder folk, we had best find some of it for ourselves pretty quickly!" he beams at the youngster.
"So, yes this is a pony I am making from a piece of wood." he holds it up for Toradoc to see. "Now be careful of the knife! I will let you hold the pony for a moment, even though his legs are not yet done." He holds out the toy to the youngster.
To Fadoric, he gives a warm chuckle. "Always room for one more bloke about the fireplace!"
After glancing about Germiman resumes his entrance. Quick feet take him to an empty seat which places him near the other hobbits already in conversation. His cheeks redden at the sight of Chalcedony, "Good m-morning." he utters as he takes out a notebook from one of his vest pockets. A pen appears as well and he starts scribbling. "Busy day?" He speaks again to the rest, eyes still on his notepad.
Boldibad can't help but smile as the company grows. He leans forward in his chair and empties his pipe into the fireplace. "Good morning, Mr. Brandybuck," he says to Fadoric. "Yes, this stout fellow over here may just eat everybody out of smial and home. And those biscuits do look delightful. Don't suppose you could spare one?" He nods to Germimac, but notices his attention is on a notepad. "And a good morning to you as well, sir. Well, here I find myself, once again, surrounded, mainly, by Brandybucks inside Brandy Hall--go figure, eh?" He chortles a bit as he repacks his pipe and searches his waistcoat for a flint/steel.
Torodac takes the pony with a great deal of care, his eyes wide. He runs a small hand over its head and mane, obviously quite impressed. Very gently, he hands it back to Baltobras. "I wanna learn to carve like that someday!" he says earnestly, looking over the arm of the chair. His mother shakes her head and a tiny smile pulls at the corner of her mouth, but, as the lad's not running off to the kitchens or into the fire, she lets him be for now. She turns her head to smile at Germimac as he arrives. "Morning, Germimac," she says. "Not so busy, just a smart-mouthed little lad who likes to sleep through first breakfast and expects to get something to eat before second. How are you doing?" At Boldibad's comment, she can't help but smile widely. "Only half a Took away from the full company being Brandybucks," Chalcedony says, nodding towards her son. "Well, he's small enough to count as half a hobbit, so possibly only a quarter." She shrugs and takes on a mock-sad expression. "Unless I no longer count as a Brandybuck, just because I got married." Chalcy can't hold it long, though, and grins widely once again.
"Very kind," Fadoric replies, beaming in Baltobras' direction. The old hobbit frowns slightly, and fishes a pair of glasses from his top pocket. Resting them lightly on the end of his nose, he frowns at Baltobras for a moment, and then laughs, "Ahh, I knew I recognised that voice. Good morning!" As Germimac joins the group, Fadoric turns to him and nods solemly. "Quite," he informs him, and gestures to the plate on the table. "I finished a batch of biscuits last night, but I fell asleep leaving them to cool. Been icing all morning!" Turning back to Boldibad, the Brandybuck nods. "Please, help yourself! Though the green waistcoats on the gingerbread hobbits might not have set quite yet. Just finished, you see!"
Balto is impressed by the gentle deftness of the young Hobbit, and smiles.
"Well well, we shall see about that when you have got a little older!" says he to the boy. "In the meanwhile, this pony not being spoken for, I shall finish carving it and then you shall have it for your own. But for now..." He takes a biscuit from the proffered plate. "...I'll make a trade - this biscuit for that pony. The one you can eat. The other needs his legs carved aright!" Balto chuckles merrily.
"Thank you, good morning" Germimac replies quietly his eyes dart quickly from Chalcedony to Torodac and then to Fadoric until he replies, "I'm g-good thank you Chalcedony." His pencil taps a few times on the notebook until finally his attention goes to the cookies and the icing. A hand reaches out to them, then returns to his spot and then tries to reach again for them before it decides to stay tucked under his other hand and his pencil. He gives them all a small grin before returning to his notes.
Chalcedony raises her eyebrows and walks over to her son. "What do you say to Mr. Baltobras, Torry?" Torodac, his wiggles apparently gone for now, folds his hands behind his back and says very politely, "Thank you very much, Mr. Baltobras!" A smile appears on his face. "Really? I can have it? And you're so good at carving, too! Wait'll Ruby and Ammy and Rey see!" Chalcedony gives up and stands once more, mussing her son's hair. "Those ginger-hobbits turned out very well," she notes. "Might I have one, as well? You made them look so tasty!"
Boldibad jests further, "Oh, Mrs. Took, I don't believe Brandybuckishness can possibly leave a hobbit completely! But, some would say that everybody has a little Brandybuck, deep down inside." He nods at Fadoric and eagerly takes two biscuits from the tray. As the conversation moves from person to person, he turns his eyes back to Germimac and says, "I don't believe we are acquainted, sir. I'm Boldibad Bolger of Budge Ford, originally, and of Bucklebury currently and temporarily. Don't tell me, with your pad and pen, that you are a reporter with a hundred questions!"
"That is quite a talent," Fadoric agrees, nodding at the wooden horse. "I used to enjoy carving m'self, when I was a boy, though I was never quite as good as you. Pipes and things, mostly, my uncle taught me." The old Brandybuck smiles at Torodac's enthusiasm before his mother distracts him. Turning to Chalcedony, Fadoric smiles warmly. "Thank you, m'dear, it's very good of you to say so. Of course you can! And would be so kind as to pass one to me, too? M'joints creak far too much lately."
Baltobras chuckles "You're welcome, my boy," as he releases the biscuit to Torry in exchange for the small pony. He raises his eyebrows and looks over to Chalcedony.
"And so, with compliments, mrs. Took, cousin Chalcy, Poor Balto gets to carve three more, when Ruby, Ammy and Rey all see!" He laughs heartily.
Balto smiles at the group round the fire as his hand strays to the plate for another biscuit, this one for himself.
Germimac's face gets some colour when Boldibad addresses him directly, "Oh yes, I a-apologise. I'm Germimac Brandybuck." His fingers close on the notepad and he shakes his head, "N-no no.. not at all. I'm not a reporter nor do I have questions, not many ..." He gives him a small smile and points, "I was just... writing something before I forget, that's all." The plate gets another glance and hessitantly he reaches out, this time taking one cookie and smiling relieved when food fills his mouth.
Chalcedony nods. "Of course, sir. And thank you very much." She suits word to action, handing Fadoric one ginger-hobbit and taking a smallish one for herself. She winks at Boldibad. "Well, Dharlon says I've never quite lost that Brandybuck wild streak, though one would think that four children would calm you down." She looks over at Baltobras and Torry, the latter now munching happily on the biscuit and calmed down quite a bit. She laughs along with the former. "My dear cousin, don't let my flock of children do that to you. They can learn to share. Generosity is a virtue no hobbit-child ought to grow up without learning." With that, she takes a far-too-large-to-be-ladylike bite out of the ginger-hobbit she's holding. Apparently, somewhere inside of Mrs. Dharlon Took, Miss Chalcy Brandybuck does indeed still reside.
Boldibad nods, "Well met, Mr. Brandybuck." He polishes off one of the biscuits, setting his pipe down in his lap. Then, leaning back in his chair, his crosses his legs again and prepares to start on the second gingerbread hobbit. "I will have to pay the Great Smials a visit someday soon," he says to Chalcedony. "I haven't seen old Dharlon in a good, long time. Don't suppose the old rascal's up to anything new, eh?"
"Thank you, dear," replies Fadoric, taking the biscuits from Chalcedony with a smile and resting it on his knee. "Oh ho, don't be so modest, young man," the old hobbit chastises Germimac. "This young fellow is always writing something, you know," he informs Boldibad, "quite a talent, if you ask me. Quite a talent indeed." Turning back to Germimac, Fadoric asks, "What's it you're writing now, lad?"
Baltobras pockets the knife and the little carving, while savoring his biscuit and listening. "Ah, Cousin, don't worry," he says. "It will take me so long to make three little ponies that they shall have plenty of time to share the first one finished!"
At Boldibad's speech, he perks up at the prospect of a little gossip. "Yes, yes," says he. "Is anything new happening in the Tooklands, cousin?"
Germimac swallows all in his mouth and then he coughs a few times, "I ... well ... I " He mutters and flips the pages of his notebook nervously, "Just something small... I thought well I think... perhaps I could write a small story." His eyes go to Fadoric, "Well I liked this setting and I thought I could use it for later, just... in.. case." He coughs one more time and finishes the rest of his biscuit.
Chalcedony inclines her head to Baltobras. "Thank you for offering to carve the little ones horses, cousin. It's very kind of you." At Boldibad's and Baltobras' query concerning the Southfarthing, she suddenly looks fiercely proud. "Actually," she says, standing a bit straighter, "we finished refurbishing the smial just last winter, and now we're looking to get the plantation started up again. Dharlon's in the Southfarthing as we speak, looking for workers to hire and doing research. That's part of the reason I'm here, to use the library. Everything I've read so far indicates that the soil on the plantation is perfect for a good pipeweed yeild. Hopefully, before next year, everything ought to be lined up and we can plant the first crop come next spring." She smiles, then looks down at Torodac. She needn't have worried, though, as he's still munching contentedly on his biscuit.
"Ahh, excellent!" replies Fadoric, beaming. "There's no finer place in all of Buckland than this, to be sure. What kind of a story?" Like the others, however, Fadoric is distracted by the prospect of good gossip, and turns his attention towards Chalcedony. "Oh ho, you're growing your own pipeweed? How splendid! I knew a lad tried to grow Old Toby in a plot down by the Brandywine, but the weather's not right here, and it didn't take. Cost him a small fortune. Won't grow right anywhere but the Southfarthing, Thain alone knows why."
Baltobras looks up. "Ah, you're welcome, dear Chalcy!"
Balto listens to the talk of pipeweed, and almost abently fishes for the pipe and pouch in his other weskit pocket.
As everyone converses around the fireplace, one of the cook's assistants comes nervously up the stairs from the kitchen. "Er, um," she gulps, "Second breakfast is going to be d-delayed. There's been a miscalculation of our stock. Terribly sorry." She quickly runs back down the stairs.
Boldibad nods, "I'm happy to hear about your plans, Mrs. Took. You should speak with Thilo Bracegirdle, down in Hardbottle--he's quite knowledgable of the subject!" He glances over his shoulder, "Breakfast--delayed? This must be a joke!"
"I was trying to write a mistery story." Germimac replies and then returns to his pages. "Not- not so sure of the ending yet." Germimac glnaces at the other hobbits and nods at Chalcedony and gives her a small smile.
Chalcedony nods and casts about for a chair, finding a small one and drawing it up to the fire and conversation. "Both of us are excited, to be sure. Hopefully, the place will be flourishing and making a nice profit by the time Dharlon and I pass on. We need to make sure we leave something behind us for - " And then the cook appears with her announcement, and Chalcy's eyes widen in horror. "Oh no!" she says. "I hope they figure that out soon!" Torry, having finished his biscuit, looks up at his mother with terrified eyes. "No second breakfast?" he says in a wobbly voice. "But I'm hungry!" He looks about ready to cry. Chalcy shakes her head. "No dear," she says, leaning forward and scooping him up. "It's only late. You'll get something to eat." She then hands the lad the rest of her ginger-hobbit. "And next time, you can make sure you get up on time for first breakfast, so you know you'll not be so hungry." Chalcy turns back to Boldibad. "Thilo Bracegirdle, I'll remember that and send him a letter. But Germimac, what was your mystery about? Not my house, I hope. We scared away all the ghosts there." She gives him a quick grin to show she's joking.
"A mystery novel? How exciting! What sort of mystery?" Fadoric's attention is stolen by the news about breakfast, however. Snorting, the old Brandybuck shakes his head. "I told her!" he calls at the back of the retreating kitchen assistant. "Scramble twice as many eggs, I said, when I was doing my icing! She wouldn't listen, told me to stop pestering her and leave! I told her!" The excitement of this outburst brings on a small coughing fit, but when he passes Fadoric sighs. "Well, in that case, I'd best keep my strength up. Would you be so kind as to pass me another biscuit, Mrs Took?" he asks, oblivious to the first one still sitting on his leg.
Boldibad peers at the tray, gulping. "It seems the biscuits are running low. Well, it could be worse--to have dinner delayed would be tragic! I'm always so hungry by that time..." He lights his pipe and sends tendrils of smoke rising into the air. "A good mystery is always fun to read," he comments then. "I will have to read your book as soon as it's finished, if that's ok with you, Mr. Brandybuck?"
Baltobras listens to his cousin's conversation, but at the kitchen-lass' interruption, Balto, a lifelong resident at the Hall, looks thunderstruck. "I've not heard words like those more than one other time under this roof!" he explodes. "Hospitality! It's our watchword! How can there be a mistake in the stock?"
He gives a grim look to Germimac. "There's your mystery story, lad!" He intones.
f
Germimac's fingers start twirling the corners of his notepad and he sinks back into his chair a little, "Well, it-- I thought it could involve missing food or... perhaps a misssing hobbit ... But I'm not sure... I haven't really written anything much, just a page." He glances at Chalcedony for a second, "P-perhaps we can talk about w-what happened. For-for ideas." There's a pause, "B-But I'll gladly show it to you mister Bolger." He coughs, "And of course, to the rest. But- I- I'm afraid it's not finished yet." He winces at the talk about the delayed food and sighs.
Mrs. Took does pass Fadoric another biscuit, listening intently to Germimac. "Of course we can discuss it later, if you like." Torodac munches quietly on his ginger-hobbit, getting a few crumbs on his mother's dress, but she doesn't seem to mind this too much. At Baltobras' words, however, Chalcedony tunrs and notes gently, though with a frown, "Even the best-run kitchens make a mistake sometimes. At the very least, this will scare them so much that there won't be another mistake for a very long time, though I agree, it's certainly a nasty error."
"I would have iced more, but that, that, that woman," he snorts again, "threw me out. And I doubt she'd let me back in now, given that I was quite right. Ahh, thank you, my dear." Smiling, the old Brandybuck takes the proffered biscuit from Chalcedony and decapitates the ginger-hobbit with a single bite. "I'm sure it'll be a thrilling tale, my lad," Fadoric announces to the younger Brandybuck, his words accompanied by a small spray of crumbs.
Boldibad nods, "This situation reminds me of the year the chickens, back at Bolger Smial, wouldn't lay any eggs! We suffered for three months. That was back in '29! Nobody ever did find out why it happened. I personally think there was thievery involved! But others would say there was a sickness among the birds... why, perhaps something from history, such as that, will inspire something new for your story, Mr. Brandybuck." He puffs upon his pipe.
Balto nods to his cousin Chalcy, and the rest. "I know it will put fear into them. But that's not my worst worry. We have quite a crowd of visitors this morning, and if things are not set right, our family table will be in disgrace."
Balto gathers up his stick and his tobacco pouch. "I had best be gone to the kitchen to inquire about the need for market-goods, and thence off to the market to find what is lacking!" He gives a little bow to everyone. "Please excuse me for leaving so abruptly, but I really must be sure that we have not got ourselves into a pickle over this!" He smiles a bit forcedly. "Good bye for the present."
So saying, Balto takes hasty leave of the party and disappears in the direction of the kitchens.
Baltobras wanders upstairs, into the residential part of Brandy Hall.
Baltobras has left.
"It was nice seing you, I think .. I think I will just go and leave this upstairs before I eat. And ... and yes. I lost one the other day and I wouldn't like that." He stands up rapidly and a lone crumb makes its way down from his trousers to the floor. "I- Have.. have a nice day." And with a small and quick bow he's off in quick steps towards the stairs.
Chalcedony nods to Baltobras, "That's true, we don't want to look hostile. Good luck, cousin! And good day, Germimac!" She waves good-bye, and Torry follows suit. "Bye, Mr. Baltobras! And Mr. Germimac!" the lad calls. He then returns to his ginger-hobbit, the green waistcoat coloring the corners of his mouth.
"Ah, yes, I remember that! There were some Big Folk passing through the Shire the month before, and some said they'd cursed them. Nonsense, of course, but it caused quite a ruckus in the 'Pipe for a while." Nodding to Baltobras, Fadoric smiles warmly. "Good man, good man. Someone needs to sort this nonsense out, and goodness knows /she/ won't get it right." As Germimac also makes his departure, the elder Brandybuck lifts a hand and waves. "I shall look forward to reading the first draft, don't let me forget!" Reaching for the rest of his biscuit, Fadoric deprives of it it's legs, and then pops the last piece into his mouth.
Boldibad nods his head, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brandybuck, and I am also eager to read your book upon its completion. I live on Ferry Lane, just across from the entrance to Brandy Hall!" He blows a couple of smoke-rings. "Yes," he says to Fadoric, "I remember seeing those long-leggers... nobody believed me, until more and more people saw them in the area! If they didn't curse the chickens, they stole the eggs and let us go hungrier than we should have. Mark my words, friends: Never--Trust--Men!"
Chalcedony looks at Boldibad. "I don't know, about that," she says thoughtfully. "I do agree that there are many that are untrustworthy, but there are certainly a good number that are honest. I met one or two in my younger days. At one point, I'd scraped up my hand badly, and one of the Big Folk bound it up for me. It healed as quickly and neatly as anything I've ever seen, and I had no other ill effects from it. And I've been in their company with my Amarinda once, completely unexpectedly and accidentally, and we were unharmed and treated with respect. Some of them are perfectly civilized and benevolent."
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with interacting with them, certainly," Fadoric agrees with Chalcedony. "Why, I've done business with them several times, don't you know. But you certainly can't trust them, and if I were you I'd be careful letting the young ones near them. They can be civilized, but you can't trust it to last. They're like dogs. Even the tamest will bite sometimes, for no apparant reason." This statement is punctuated with a bite of Fadoric's second biscuit, splitting it in half and sending crumbs cascading down his waistcoat and onto the floor.
Boldibad nods, "Quite right, Mr. Brandybuck. But, like dogs, there are tame and wild ones. The wild ones, from what I've heard, will make themselves appear to be tame. They're awfully tricky. That's why I'll never trust one!" He puffs, again on his pipe. "But, thankfully, I've never had a problem with one directly. It's quite a safe place, Budge Ford." He peers over at the tray, "And, are there any more of your biscuits, Mr. Brandybuck?"
A shrug. "It was certainly not my choosing, running into them with Ammy," Chalcedony notes. "We were lucky that they were simple visitors from Bree. I don't like going too near strange Big Folk if I can help it, not now." Chalcedony looks down at Torry. "In my younger days, I was a bit of a rover, but now, I have others to think of, and I'm not so adventurous." She strokes her son's curls, and he curls against her. "It's a trade well worth the making."
Cicely has arrived.
"All Big Folk are strange," Fadoric retorts, and chuckles at his own comment. "But that's quite right, Mrs Took. Wandering the Shire is all well and good when you're young - I did some of it myself! - but not something hobbits of our advanced years should be doing." He laughs again, then turns his attention to Boldibad. "Yes, you're lucky in that respect, Mister Bolger. They often don't pass further than Stock, if they even cross the river. But the Guard keep the worst of them at bay, only let those who are worth trading with come through, most of the time. Ahh, I'm afraid those are all the ones I'd iced, and I fear this wouldn't be the best time to get the others from the kitchens."
Boldibad clears his throat, slightly uncomfortably. "It's a risk I just can't take, dealing with a big folk. Have you good hobbits heard? Heard of the strange folk sneaking around the South Farthing? A lot of folks've been seeing them. From what I hear, they aren't from Bree, by their looks. Why, there're plenty of similar reports from all over the Shire! What next, eh?" He sighs, then, when the older gentlehobbit breaks the news of the biscuits. "Oh well, I suppose late breakfast can't be too far off, now."
Chalcedony sits, listening quietly to the conversation, when something catches her eye. It is a small hobbit-lass in a a cheerful red dress, her dark, rowdy curls pulled back with a red ribbon - all except for one, which falls carelessly over he left eye. She looks, in fact, like a miniature version of her mother, who waves her over. "Hi, Ruby," says Torry. "I'm hungry." Ruby looks at him scornfully. "You slept in, that's your fault." Chalcedony cuts in. "Ruby, that's enough. Come here a moment." Chalcedony leans over and whispers something in her daughter's ear, then nods and shoves the lass gently towards the kitchens. "And make sure you're quick!" she says. Chalcedony then settles back into her chair, looking completely innocent.
"I can't say I blame you, not a bit," Fadoric replies to the Bolger. "I've done trade with them in the past, but I'm too old to be dealing with them now. Longbeards, now, they're even worse. I don't know why the Bounders let them in, they're nothing but trouble, I've found." The old hobbit shakes his head at Boldibad's words, and answers, "I should hope not. I didn't miss first breakfast, and I'm certainly hungry." The old hobbit shoots a bemused smile at Ruby as the girl runs off, then looks at her mother and asks with a grin, "Dare I enquire?"
As the hobbits' discussion carries on, a small figure that may have otherwise not been very noticable from stillness and silence gains some vivacity. Like a shadow from the flickering flames, the little lass moves inconspicuously toward the discussion table. Long brown curls tumble like a waterfall over her shoulders, around a somewhat pale freckled-face, but her eyes reveal themselves to be those of a certain Cicely Gamwich, sparkling as always like stars in clear midnight skies of curiousity.
Boldibad's eyes widen, "Don't get me started on longbeards! They'll carry you off in the middle o' the night, they will. Why, I heard rumors that's what happened to poor Bilbo Baggins. By now, I'm sure you've all heard that name--it was quite a story when it happened." He sighs, "But, if I don't have food soon..." He then follows Fadoric's lead and shimmies in his chair to face Chalcedony with a good-natured grin on his face. "What are you up to, Mrs. Took?"
Chalcedony retains her innocent expression, though it appears quite difficult, as her eyes are twinkling brightly. "You may ask such things, sirs, all you wish," she says cheerfully, "but I may or may not answer. Delicacy is the privledge of a lady." She sits primly in her chair, very carefully not looking towards the door to the kitchens. Torodac shifts in Chalcy's lap. "Mommy, did you ever meet longbeards?" The ladyhobbit nods. "One or two when I went to Bree with Papa, but I never made friends with them, so I don't know any well enough to speak of them well or ill."
At the mention of a particular Baggins, Fadoric simply snorts and mutters something under his breath, and instead turns to Chalcedony, giving a soft chuckle at her response. "Of course, I do apologise," he replies, though his curiousity has clearly not been silenced, and the old Brandybuck turns and glances towards the staircase leading to the kitchens. With no sign of Ruby's reappearance, his focus wanders back to the group, and the newcomer's arrival is noticed. "Good morning, lass," Fadoric greets Cicely. "If you're waiting for breakfast, I'm afraid there's been," he rolls his eyes, "a delay."
Boldibad winks in Torodoc's direction. "And there never was a shortage of naughty hobbit boys and girls who those longbeards took away! It's a good thing you're a well-mannered lad!" He pokes his pipe back in teeth.
The bright little eyes blink quickly and the rest of the little hobbit's face appears above the table edge as she pulls herself up with her hands, up, up on her tiptoes. "Oh," says she, in a succinct, sweet little manner, "that be unfortunate." A sigh escapes her, although it doesn't seem she is so upset by the lack in food. "Maybe a story about the bigfolk pass the time, would then?" Her cheeks flush a little pink, but a big grin graces the little visage.
Torodac nods emphatically. "I'm a good lad! Longbeards would never come steal me away." Chalcedony, unnoticed by her son, looks quite amused at this proclamation. "Not even if you slept in or your area in the nursery at home is a mess, Master Took?" she asks pointedly. A shake of the head, and she musses his hair again. Before she can say anything else, however, the pitter-patter of small feet sounds from the direction of the kitchens and a steaming platter of twelve sticky, frosted cinnamon buns appears, borne by little Ruby Took. A smug smile spreads across Chalcedony's face. "That's my girl," she murmurs as the lass arrives. "Right there, Ruby," she says, indicating a place next to the now-empty biscuit tray. "And then pick your own out."
Fadoric watches the exchange between Torodac and the others with obvious amusement, chuckling at the lad's obstinate proclaimation of innocense. The reappearance of the boy's sister is of more interest, however, and the Brandybuck's eyes follow the plate all the way to the table. "Oh ho, well done, young lady!" he booms, sitting forwards with a little effort and reaching to take one of the buns. "Well done indeed! And certainly," he adds, turning to Cicely, "if you have a story, I'm sure we'd all be delighted to hear it."
Cicely blushes a little more and averts her eyes toward the floor for a moment, but then looks right back, taking the time to look every hobbit in the eyes directly. "Well, sir, I only met a bigfolk once. Really tall, he was, but that's not much story to tell there. I did once meet a great big wolf, if you would like to know! Now there is an experience never I be forgetting." She gives a big nod, very serious-like, but at the same time, her features are overflowing with with an adventurous sort of mischief.
"Well," says Boldibad, "I'll be a Hornblower! Hello, little Miss! What a small land this Shire is. You are the girl that helped me gather my..." he glances around suspiciously for a second. "My unimportant... papers..." Clearing his throat, he agrees with Fadoric. "It's a pity Mr. Germimac isn't here any longer--he might have enjoyed to hear this story!" He smiles uncontrollably at the sight of the food and leans forward as well, grabbing one as soon as he has a fair chance to do so.
Ruby takes the largest, stickiest bun for herself and settles in at her mother's feet. Mrs. Took hands a bun to Torodac, then secures one for herself. "Well done, Ruby." Ruby nods and attacks her bun with abandon, her bother doing the same. Chalcedony herself listens to a Cicely with interest. She jerks a little at the mention of a wolf, but says nothing.
"I'm sure he would," Fadoric agrees, "but if our young friend here can't recount it for him later, I will be certain to do so." The Brandybuck gives Cicely a warm smile, and encourages her, "Do tell us what happened, young lady. I fear we may all starve, without something to distract us." Though this is apparantly not quite true, as the words have barely left Fadoric's mouth when they're replaced by the sticky bun.
The little lass takes a couple of steps away from the table and her eyes become a bit distant. "Well," she begins, "I had been out playing, uh, late might be said." She turns pink yet again at the confession. "But the sun was setting less late then, so it didn't seemed that long. And it was getting dark and I was outside heading home." She takes a few prancy sort of steps as if she were heading somewhere, then directs a piercing gaze back at the hobbits. "Then all of a sudden, I heard a howl." Her eyes get wide and she licks her lips, "And it came again, and it got closer and closer!" With each "closer" she takes a step toward the table, loowering her head so she has to look up from beneath her forehead to see the hobbits. "I thought my heart was about shrivel like an unharvested tomato in the winter it was so scary! And I wanted to scream, but it was like winter had frozen my voice. And then..." She pauses, "Then two big glowing green orbs appeared! I thought it wouldn't be good to meet their owner, so's I climbed al quick up a tree!" She makes a fast motion and jumps onto a chair, looking back the ground that she just came off of, then at the hobbits. "And then it came, all huge and black. It was bigger than me! Almost as big as a big pony!" A deep breath... "And it looked around... and sniffed..." She sniffs and stretches her head toward the others, "And looked up... And saw me! I thought I was bout to be eated. I stayed as still as I could, but then more howling echoed." She looks toward the doors as if hearing something, "And far away again, and the wolf went toward it and I went home..."
Boldibad chuckles a bit. "Well, if it was me, I don't know what I'd have done. A fine story, indeed! It was very... animated!" He finishes off his sticky bun and removes his handkerchief to wipe his hands. "It's a good thing the bounders are on their toes, or we'd likely have a lot of encounters like that!"
The cook's assistant comes up to the top of the stairs. "Everyone," he says, "it's almost time to eat. Just a little longer. Lunch will be served early today!" She hurries back down the stairs as several waiting Brandybucks groan hungrilly.
Chalcedony is listening with interest. Torodac is quite captivated, slowly eating his sticky bun, but Ruby looks supremely disinterested, especially after it's clear Cicely escaped unharmed. "Pffsh," she says, not even bothering to look at the other lass, "that's nothing. Mama got fought a wolf in winter once, and it bit her, too." Chalcedony starts. "Ruby Took! That's horribly rude. Apologize immediately." Ruby looks indignant. "But you did!" she protests. Chalcedony gives her daughter a look, and the lass wilts a bit. "Sorry," she says to Cicely, clearly not meaning it. Chalcedony shakes her head. "Oh, good, the food's almost done," she mutters darkly.
"How dreadful!" replies Fadoric, eyes slightly wider than before. "But it sounds like you were terribly brave, young lady - and terribly lucky! Goodness me. But very well told." The old hobbit shoots Chalcedony a sympathetic look - though whether because of her apparant encounter with a wolf, or her daughter's bad behaviour is unclear. The rest of the Brandybuck's sticky bun is then forced into his mouth - somewhat luckily preventing a further outburst at the cook's assistant. "Well, in all my time. Second breakfast, skipped! Unheard of! I had better hope they're putting on a good fare for lunch, I could eat a horse!"
Cicely grins widely, "Thank you." She climbs down from the chair and advances toward the table when Ruby speaks. "Oh," she says, again in a short, innocent tone. "I'm sorry to hear one bit you, ma'am." Unwavered by the lack of apologetic tone in Ruby's sorry, she gives a smile and replies, "It's alright. It must be a grand story!" Her eyes go back and forth between the lass and her mother.
Boldibad tsks, "Why, Mrs. Took," he says, a look of concern on his face. "Is it true?" He turns his attention away from the children.
Chalcedony nods to Boldibad. "It is, actually." She looks over at Cicely and smiles wryly. "It's not a bad one, but I must say that I'm the one who lived it, so of course I think it's better than it is." Torodac looks up at his mother. "Tell the story, Mama, please!" Chalcedony sighs, but smiles at her son. "All right, then, Torry. If you insist. It was deep winter, and I had just come home from a journey to Hobbiton. Snow was everywhere, and a few patches of ice, too. I crossed the Brandywine on Bucklebury Ferry and landed with no trouble, but as I was walking home, a wolf appeared from the north, growling and baring his fangs at me. I froze, but he came at me, still growling." Chalcedony leans back, closing her eyes and remembering. "I was terrified. I made to go back to the ferry and safety on the water, but my foot slipped on a patch of ice and down I went. That monster was on me in a twinkling and sunk his fangs into my right arm." She holds the indicated arm up, a small ring of old scars visible in the firelight. "I managed to hit him once or twice and struggle away. He stayed a few feet in front of me, and I thought for sure I was going to die. I managed to roll a snowball and threw it at his as hard as I could, which distracted him long enough from me to roll another one, this time with a rock in it. It hit him square in the face and I ran for the shed. I made it just in time and bolted it behind me. It was along, hungry, cold wait for him to leave." Her tale finished, Chalcy opened her eyes. "My arm was bandaged for a long while after that, but I was lucky. I'm still alive." She hugs her son tightly for a moment.
"Goodness!" mutters Fadoric once more as Chalcedony finishes her own story. "I had no idea the things were quite so prevelant in the Shire! Not in Bucklebury, at any rate." The old hobbit shakes his head. "Simply shocking. But I am glad that you came away from it at least relatively unharmed, Mrs Took. What an awful thing to have happened."
Brown curls tumble into the hobbit lass's face as she nods in agreement with Fadoric. "Aye." She looks at Ruby, "Your mama did have quite a encounter, huh? I sorta was curious where the wolf went after. There was sheep disappearin' for some time after I saw the pony-size wolf. Did you had any problems like that?" She looks at Chalcedony, eyes wide. "Or did you ever see it again?"
Boldibad nods, "Wolves are dangerous creatures. You are quite a quick thinker, Mrs. Took, to throw those snowballs at the beast! I don't know what I'd have done, myself. Perhaps the Shire needs more Bounders, eh?"
Chalcedony shakes her head. "No, I never saw it again. It's so rare for wolves to be in the Shire, and so rare for them to attack hobbits. Most of the time, they stay far away..." Her face darkens for a moment, but then she shakes her head. "But not always. That's why it's so important to be careful when you're out on your own, and so much safer to travel in groups." She ponders Boldibad's words for a half-moment. "I don't know," she adds thoughtfully. "It's not happened for so long. More Bounders certainly couldn't hurt, though. I don't wish that on anyone."
"Something's needed, at any rate. Though, right now," Fadoric chuckles, "I think it's my lunch. Will you all excuse me? I'm going to go and see if.." Picking up his cane, the old hobbit pushes himself slowly to his feet, letting out a deep sigh as he gets up straight. ".. I can't find out what the delay is," he finishes. "It's been a rare pleasure to sit and talk with you all. I hope we can talk more at lunch, if it's ever served! Do excuse me." With a nod to each of the group, the Brandybuck turns and shuffles off, disappearing down the stairs to the kitchen.
Suddenly, a snore drifts out from Boldibad. He seems to have quietly passed into another dreamy state as the conversation goes on.
< END >
Players: Shire, Chalcedony, Talvo, Bratto, Boldibad, Cicely, Baltobras
Located in: Shirefolk
