Elendor
Banditry in Bree
A couple of hobbits are robbed by bandits!!
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Bree
Description: It's mid-afternoon, the cold dry air of winter painful to fingers, ears and noses. Not far along the path north of the gate to Bree proper, the Chetwood butts close to the road. There's a spot along the road where it dips low, reducing distance vision considerably. There is a man standing alongside a horse that has a blanket-wrapped bundle tied behind the saddle, and the fellow is down on one knee, rubbing his hand along one of the beasts knees, muttering.
A hobbit lady is appears suddenly from the top of the short hill (the suddenness owing to her small height). She walks down, skirts swaying, hat firmly over her ears. "Do you be having a bit o trouble with yon beast?" Amelia calls.
The top of the north gate drops out of view as the path begins its decline. Barrel bellied and fat, the gray pony single steps along smooth as butter on its short legs. Brass buttons glint on Stouthill's blue coat, his gaitered legs splayed out over the fat belly of the pony and his own fat stomach nearly hides the rich buckle on his belt. He sings snatches of song to himself, his breath puffing little clouds on the cold air. Saddle bags bulge behind him on the saddle and a pie-bald pony with more packs follows on a lead.
The man looks up at the voice and his brown eyes widen for a moment, then he gives a quick nod. "Aye.. started limping, and I dunno what her problem is.." He mutters, slowly standing and mashing one hand down on the wide-brimmed hat he wears to push it further onto his head.
Song drifts down to them and he turns to look, and a flash of a grin touches his lips, but so quickly does it pass again that the hobbit may not notice. "I do so hate to leave her here, but I don't want to walk her either.. Might cause more injury, ya know?"
"Mmm." Amelia approaches the man with her thumbs tucked into her belt. "Best to be laying camp outside the gate for tonight," she says in her cheerful, high voice. She bends over to look at the horse's leg, skirts sticking out behind her like a bird's tail.
"O the mill race runs and the old wheel turns..." Stouthill doesn't finish the line. He spies the two up on the path ahead and reins the gray down to a walk, calling whoa to the pony on lead behind them. He looks them over without a hallo or a hello until he comes up level to them.
"A good day, to you. Mistress. Sir," he nods from the saddle. "Problem with the horse?"
The man with the floppy pressed down hat turns away from Amelia, but rests one hand on the pack behind the saddle. His brown eyes watch the rotund hobbit approach and inclines his head. "Yes.. master hobbit. Begin limping somethin fierce.. I thought I might leave her here with a trustworthy sort while I fetch someone from town that knows about animals." He casts a long glance at the hodge-podge Amelia, then looks back at Stouthill. "Would you mind?" His free hand reaches for the reins, to offer them up to the wealthy hobbit. "Won't take me long, I'm a fast runner."
"Well, certainly, for a little bit of time I can--" Miss Amelia is standing and reaching toward the tall horse's reins, just in time to see them handed toward the wealthier hobbit. She gives an affronted little gasp and sticks her fists on her hips while giving the man a dirty glare.
Stouthill gives a quick glance at the lady hobbit when she gasps. He does not take the reins either but looks the man over and runs a hand through his brown curly hair, "Now, what do you propose to do?"
There's another figure approaching, from the woodline. This one looks more unsavory and less friendly. He has stringy brown hair over a thin face, with a dark scar running from the bridge of his nose to his left ear. In his right hand he's carrying what can only be recognized as a club. "Well .. well.. A two fer one.."
The first fellow with the hat glances over sharply, scowling. Then he gives a disgusted sigh and suddenly slides a rusty short sword from it's concealment within the bundle on the horse. He moves forward quickly to reach for the bridle of Stouthill's pony, grumbling loudly. "Timing! You know nothin of timing!"
Mouth popped open, the little lady looks from hobbit to man to man. There's no fear in her eyes-- perhaps disbelief.
Suddenly comprehension snaps into her eyes, which turn round as she gasps. "Master hobbit sir! Ride off!" And she turns as if to run toward the gate.
They would make a comic picture, the two of them with their mouths open. Stouthill's brown eyes snap fury at the ruffian. He pulls the lead pony level with himself and gives its rein a shake and he kicks it a good one on its backside with a strong furry foot. It snorts and bolts forward.
"Oh, you're big bonny fellows setting on a wee woman and a traveller, are ye?"he cries grabbing the stave tied to his pack on the pony's off side. "I won't be leaving you to them, mistress" he says circling the pony to face the man.
"Tch.. Thought you might want some help, bein as there's two of them... Hobbits can be fierce I hear." Scarface snickers, walking with a long stride, that is until Amelia begins to race for the gate. Then he sprints after her. "Stop or I'll pop ya one, missie!" He reaches to try and grab the back of her collar as he easily catches up.
Hatman mutters a nasty insult under his breath about the the backsides of trolls and not needing help, but then Amelia bolts and he's tightening his grip on the bridle of the pony. He drags against it as the hobbit tries to turn the animal away and steps forward. "Listen here, friend.. " He holds up the sword. "I can rob you and leave you with your animals, or I can rob you and leave them dead on the road.. Drop the stick!"
"Run off, ru--" Amelia gives a choking sound as her collar his pulled from behind. Her feet sweep from beneath her and she swings briefly like a bell. Her hands reach for her collar and she gives the rotund hobbit a helpless look.
The pack pony sensing fear kicks up its hind legs and takes off. Stouthill stops with his stave raised in mid-air. "Now, I won't be having anyone hurt. Neither hobbit or animal. So you can put that fish scaler away and leave us be," he says angrily and he lets the stave drop.
Scarface shakes Amelia once, as he drags her back towards the others, then curses sharply when the pony races off. He picks her right up the ground then and races for the horse, slapping the hobbit down in front of the saddle and deftly jumping astride behind her. "Hyah!" He says sharply as he kicks the horse into motion and goes after the pony, hobbit goat-farmer along for the ride.
Hatman, on the other hand, leaves his accomplice to clean up that mess and purses his lips at Stouthill's demands. "Down off the beast, groundsniffer. On your knees in the dirt and start emptying your pockets." He points the sword forward at the hobbit, poking gently with the tip at his ample belly.
Amelia bounces on her belly across the saddle. Her eyes bulge and she finally screams, looking at the ground so far down. She reaches for the horse's mane with one hand and the saddle with the other as they go riding off, trying not to fall, her toes sticking out of her skirts on the other side, furry and splayed in panic.
Stouthill's face turns red with fury and he glares down at the hatted ruffian until Amelia screams. His head jerks around to the sound and his shoulders slump. "You watch who you are calling names," he says and brings a foot over the crupper of the saddle and springs to the ground lightly for a hobbit of his girth.
"I will be glad for the day when the constables have you in stocks, then who will be sniffing the ground?" he mutters and slowly gets down on his knees.
Scarface doesn't expect the hobbit to fling herself from the horse, but all the same he presses down against her back to keep her from falling. He quickly comes up alongside the pony and darts his hand down to catch it's mane. "Whooooa.. whoa whoa.. " He calls, kneeing his own animal to slow it down alongside the pony. Then he grumbles, "Shut yer mouth or I'll smash your face in!"
Stouthill is watched with a grim expression, and as soon as he's on his knees Hatman begins cutting any saddlebags free from the pony, letting them fall to the ground. "Empty your pockets. Otherwise I'll leave you here in the cold in your undergarments.. swine."
Amelia wails until she is threatened with the face-mashing, and then she abruptly quiets to whimpers. Her hands on the saddle and mane are white-knuckled in their grip.
"M-m-mister!" she squeaks. "I can't hardly reach my pockets from here!"
The stout hobbit does not obey right away. Amelia's screams turn his head and he twists to see what is causing her to wail. The hatted man brings him up short with his demand and reluctantly he reaches under his cloak to his brass buttoned coat. Out comes a watch on a handsome fob, the chain sparkling gold, next comes a fine bone pocket knife and a pipe tamper. He grimaces and watches the ruffians face as he mechanically empties his pockets as he would were he preparing for bed and placing everything on his dresser. Next, comes a small purse, heavy and chinking with change and last a locket of buttery yellow gold. They are all dropped into the dust of the road.
Scarface leans down to scoop up the lead of the pack pony, then turns both animals about to trot back to the others. "Almost done there?" He asks, setting the club across his lap and reaching to pull Amelia up to a proper seat in front of him, placing one hand on her shoulder. "Don't move lass.. Don't want to have a crooked nose for the rest of yer life, do ya?"
Hatman finishes cutting any supplies free of the first pony and slaps it's flank hard to send it running. Then he moves to the horse to pull the bundle from it's back, shaking open a large burlap sack. "Move it, Kneehigh. Fill it up." He instructs, pointing the sword at the various treasures and supplies. "If you run she'll suffer for it."
Amelia gives a short aborted squeal as she is picked up again to be set in front of the man. "N-n-no, m-master bigf-folk sir!" she says in her high voice, hunched over underneath the hand. Her round eyes turn to the stout hobbit, her hands gripping the horse's mane hard, her feet sticking out on either side.
Stouthill is so angry that he makes a move as if to rise. He overhears the threat to Amelia and her fearful answer stops him. The other ruffian's threats are redundant. He stoops to pick up what he has dropped, one hand in the dust and carefully lobs them into the open mouthed sack. "Your time will come, even the Big Folk have to answer to the law," he says through gritted teeth when he has finished and comes back upright on his knees.
"Feel free to add your own contribution, little lady.." Scarface says, leaning down to speak in her ear. "You're behaving so far, luckily." He straightens back again so Amelia will have room to relieve herself of any wealth, his eyes flicking up towards Breehill occasionally.
Hatman waits until Stouthill has deposited everything in the bag, then moves to the pack pony and swiftly cuts loose all of it's burdens. "Let her down.. " He says when that is done, passing the heavy sack up to Scarface and moving around behind Stouthill, pressing the tip of the sword against the hobbit's back.
Amelia is taken by the arm and lowered down to the ground by her captor, and Hatman gives her a solid gaze. "Check Pumpkin here to be sure he hasn't missed any wealth.. no funny business."
Amelia hunches and cringes as the man leans over to speak in her ear. She nods repeatedly, very quickly, her face white. She is trying to unbend her knuckles from her death-grip on the mane when she is suddenly lifted again and gives a new squeal.
She stumbles a bit and then she is set down. She fumbles at her belt and from beneath her skirt is drawn a purse-- not as fat as the stout hobbit's, but not as small as perhaps was expected. She sets it, trembling, near the other hobbit's things.
She then approaches Stouthill and looks down at him, hands twisting together under her chin. She looks up at the bigfolk and pleads, "Oh, I don't want to go through his things! It's-- It's /indecent/!"
The stout hobbit raises his eyes to her and would have laughed in any other circumstances but he gives the hatted ruffian a sidelong glance and says with a rueful grimace, "Oh, mistress, do what they tell you and be hanged with indecent. What they are doing is indecent!
Scarface, up on the horse, drags the sack up to begin securing to the saddle, tying it tightly. Hatman is taking up another, smaller bag to collect up the last of the shinies from the ground. "I don't care if it's against one of your pint-sized laws, check his pockets and be quick about it or I'll have him search -you-, Bunny!" Hatman's tone is harsh and he glares down at her impatiently.
Amelia is trembling from head to toe but nods at the stout hobbit. She lowers herself to her knees, her skirts all around her like a great wooly mushroom. "It still ain decent," she whispers as she timidly sticks her hands into the other hobbit's pockets.
"Go on ahead with ye and don't pay it no nevermind, mistress. They made you do it but you won't find anything 'cept maybe a stray copper," Stouthill whispers to her. "Sooner it is done, sooner they will go their way," he nods in encouragement.
Hatman waits, watching with a small smirk of amusement. Amelia's suffering brings a soft chuckle. Scarface finishes securing their haul to the saddle, still looking up at the hill. "Bree.. so soft." His words are derisive. Hatman laughs, "Aye.. like this little sweetling. Hobbits!" He reaches down then to snatch any coins from Amelia that she's found on the portly Stouthill. Then the thug in the hat moves around behind the kneeling hobbit and pushes at his back with a dirty, booted toe. "On your belly, pufferfish." One last glance-over and he begins jogging off into the woods. Scarface turns the horse about and follows.
Amelia does indeed find a copper and is offering it up to the thief with a trembling hand when it is snatched away. She gives a squeak again and curls up in a little shivering huddle as they ride away.
"Uuuuffs," when he is pushed into the ground where he lies blinking in relief. He had been braced for a blade. The ruffians are not 20 paces away and he rises, dust powdering him white as a dumpling. He stoops still on his knees trying to gather the trembling hobbit lady up, " Are ye alright, Mistress?" he asks concern wrinkling his face.
The rotund hobbit, "Uuuuffs," when he is pushed into the ground where he lies blinking in relief. He had been braced for a blade. The ruffians are not 20 paces away and he rises, dust powdering him white as a dumpling. He stoops still on his knees trying to gather the trembling hobbit lady up, " Are ye alright, Mistress?" he asks concern wrinkling his face.
Amelia grips his arm and arises while still shaking, keeping close to his side while the ruffians are still in sight. "I'm fine, 'm fine!" she says, the fright clear still in her voice. "Oh, what are we t' do, sir?" she frets. "We can't be takin' the herds to the hills with such a dishonest sort about!"
Shaking his head, he gets them both up with a heave and stands looking at the dust of the ruffians disappearance. "Nor honest folks going about their trade," he says ruefully.
"Well," he says slapping the dirt off himself, "they didn't get much but what they did get has value to me. Was me granddad's watch and a locket of my dead mum's hair. Only seed grain in those sacks, worth a bit but it won't break me."
Offering her his arm he turns towards Bree, "What did they have of you, Mistress?"
Amelia is just jittering beside the stout hobbit, holding to his arm and looking over her shoulder at where the ruffians went. "M-my purse. Was looking to buy a bit of new cloth and some o the winter feed." She sighs shakily. "Wanted a nice red," she says, as if the cloth is the greater loss.
A hobbit lady is appears suddenly from the top of the short hill (the suddenness owing to her small height). She walks down, skirts swaying, hat firmly over her ears. "Do you be having a bit o trouble with yon beast?" Amelia calls.
The top of the north gate drops out of view as the path begins its decline. Barrel bellied and fat, the gray pony single steps along smooth as butter on its short legs. Brass buttons glint on Stouthill's blue coat, his gaitered legs splayed out over the fat belly of the pony and his own fat stomach nearly hides the rich buckle on his belt. He sings snatches of song to himself, his breath puffing little clouds on the cold air. Saddle bags bulge behind him on the saddle and a pie-bald pony with more packs follows on a lead.
The man looks up at the voice and his brown eyes widen for a moment, then he gives a quick nod. "Aye.. started limping, and I dunno what her problem is.." He mutters, slowly standing and mashing one hand down on the wide-brimmed hat he wears to push it further onto his head.
Song drifts down to them and he turns to look, and a flash of a grin touches his lips, but so quickly does it pass again that the hobbit may not notice. "I do so hate to leave her here, but I don't want to walk her either.. Might cause more injury, ya know?"
"Mmm." Amelia approaches the man with her thumbs tucked into her belt. "Best to be laying camp outside the gate for tonight," she says in her cheerful, high voice. She bends over to look at the horse's leg, skirts sticking out behind her like a bird's tail.
"O the mill race runs and the old wheel turns..." Stouthill doesn't finish the line. He spies the two up on the path ahead and reins the gray down to a walk, calling whoa to the pony on lead behind them. He looks them over without a hallo or a hello until he comes up level to them.
"A good day, to you. Mistress. Sir," he nods from the saddle. "Problem with the horse?"
The man with the floppy pressed down hat turns away from Amelia, but rests one hand on the pack behind the saddle. His brown eyes watch the rotund hobbit approach and inclines his head. "Yes.. master hobbit. Begin limping somethin fierce.. I thought I might leave her here with a trustworthy sort while I fetch someone from town that knows about animals." He casts a long glance at the hodge-podge Amelia, then looks back at Stouthill. "Would you mind?" His free hand reaches for the reins, to offer them up to the wealthy hobbit. "Won't take me long, I'm a fast runner."
"Well, certainly, for a little bit of time I can--" Miss Amelia is standing and reaching toward the tall horse's reins, just in time to see them handed toward the wealthier hobbit. She gives an affronted little gasp and sticks her fists on her hips while giving the man a dirty glare.
Stouthill gives a quick glance at the lady hobbit when she gasps. He does not take the reins either but looks the man over and runs a hand through his brown curly hair, "Now, what do you propose to do?"
There's another figure approaching, from the woodline. This one looks more unsavory and less friendly. He has stringy brown hair over a thin face, with a dark scar running from the bridge of his nose to his left ear. In his right hand he's carrying what can only be recognized as a club. "Well .. well.. A two fer one.."
The first fellow with the hat glances over sharply, scowling. Then he gives a disgusted sigh and suddenly slides a rusty short sword from it's concealment within the bundle on the horse. He moves forward quickly to reach for the bridle of Stouthill's pony, grumbling loudly. "Timing! You know nothin of timing!"
Mouth popped open, the little lady looks from hobbit to man to man. There's no fear in her eyes-- perhaps disbelief.
Suddenly comprehension snaps into her eyes, which turn round as she gasps. "Master hobbit sir! Ride off!" And she turns as if to run toward the gate.
They would make a comic picture, the two of them with their mouths open. Stouthill's brown eyes snap fury at the ruffian. He pulls the lead pony level with himself and gives its rein a shake and he kicks it a good one on its backside with a strong furry foot. It snorts and bolts forward.
"Oh, you're big bonny fellows setting on a wee woman and a traveller, are ye?"he cries grabbing the stave tied to his pack on the pony's off side. "I won't be leaving you to them, mistress" he says circling the pony to face the man.
"Tch.. Thought you might want some help, bein as there's two of them... Hobbits can be fierce I hear." Scarface snickers, walking with a long stride, that is until Amelia begins to race for the gate. Then he sprints after her. "Stop or I'll pop ya one, missie!" He reaches to try and grab the back of her collar as he easily catches up.
Hatman mutters a nasty insult under his breath about the the backsides of trolls and not needing help, but then Amelia bolts and he's tightening his grip on the bridle of the pony. He drags against it as the hobbit tries to turn the animal away and steps forward. "Listen here, friend.. " He holds up the sword. "I can rob you and leave you with your animals, or I can rob you and leave them dead on the road.. Drop the stick!"
"Run off, ru--" Amelia gives a choking sound as her collar his pulled from behind. Her feet sweep from beneath her and she swings briefly like a bell. Her hands reach for her collar and she gives the rotund hobbit a helpless look.
The pack pony sensing fear kicks up its hind legs and takes off. Stouthill stops with his stave raised in mid-air. "Now, I won't be having anyone hurt. Neither hobbit or animal. So you can put that fish scaler away and leave us be," he says angrily and he lets the stave drop.
Scarface shakes Amelia once, as he drags her back towards the others, then curses sharply when the pony races off. He picks her right up the ground then and races for the horse, slapping the hobbit down in front of the saddle and deftly jumping astride behind her. "Hyah!" He says sharply as he kicks the horse into motion and goes after the pony, hobbit goat-farmer along for the ride.
Hatman, on the other hand, leaves his accomplice to clean up that mess and purses his lips at Stouthill's demands. "Down off the beast, groundsniffer. On your knees in the dirt and start emptying your pockets." He points the sword forward at the hobbit, poking gently with the tip at his ample belly.
Amelia bounces on her belly across the saddle. Her eyes bulge and she finally screams, looking at the ground so far down. She reaches for the horse's mane with one hand and the saddle with the other as they go riding off, trying not to fall, her toes sticking out of her skirts on the other side, furry and splayed in panic.
Stouthill's face turns red with fury and he glares down at the hatted ruffian until Amelia screams. His head jerks around to the sound and his shoulders slump. "You watch who you are calling names," he says and brings a foot over the crupper of the saddle and springs to the ground lightly for a hobbit of his girth.
"I will be glad for the day when the constables have you in stocks, then who will be sniffing the ground?" he mutters and slowly gets down on his knees.
Scarface doesn't expect the hobbit to fling herself from the horse, but all the same he presses down against her back to keep her from falling. He quickly comes up alongside the pony and darts his hand down to catch it's mane. "Whooooa.. whoa whoa.. " He calls, kneeing his own animal to slow it down alongside the pony. Then he grumbles, "Shut yer mouth or I'll smash your face in!"
Stouthill is watched with a grim expression, and as soon as he's on his knees Hatman begins cutting any saddlebags free from the pony, letting them fall to the ground. "Empty your pockets. Otherwise I'll leave you here in the cold in your undergarments.. swine."
Amelia wails until she is threatened with the face-mashing, and then she abruptly quiets to whimpers. Her hands on the saddle and mane are white-knuckled in their grip.
"M-m-mister!" she squeaks. "I can't hardly reach my pockets from here!"
The stout hobbit does not obey right away. Amelia's screams turn his head and he twists to see what is causing her to wail. The hatted man brings him up short with his demand and reluctantly he reaches under his cloak to his brass buttoned coat. Out comes a watch on a handsome fob, the chain sparkling gold, next comes a fine bone pocket knife and a pipe tamper. He grimaces and watches the ruffians face as he mechanically empties his pockets as he would were he preparing for bed and placing everything on his dresser. Next, comes a small purse, heavy and chinking with change and last a locket of buttery yellow gold. They are all dropped into the dust of the road.
Scarface leans down to scoop up the lead of the pack pony, then turns both animals about to trot back to the others. "Almost done there?" He asks, setting the club across his lap and reaching to pull Amelia up to a proper seat in front of him, placing one hand on her shoulder. "Don't move lass.. Don't want to have a crooked nose for the rest of yer life, do ya?"
Hatman finishes cutting any supplies free of the first pony and slaps it's flank hard to send it running. Then he moves to the horse to pull the bundle from it's back, shaking open a large burlap sack. "Move it, Kneehigh. Fill it up." He instructs, pointing the sword at the various treasures and supplies. "If you run she'll suffer for it."
Amelia gives a short aborted squeal as she is picked up again to be set in front of the man. "N-n-no, m-master bigf-folk sir!" she says in her high voice, hunched over underneath the hand. Her round eyes turn to the stout hobbit, her hands gripping the horse's mane hard, her feet sticking out on either side.
Stouthill is so angry that he makes a move as if to rise. He overhears the threat to Amelia and her fearful answer stops him. The other ruffian's threats are redundant. He stoops to pick up what he has dropped, one hand in the dust and carefully lobs them into the open mouthed sack. "Your time will come, even the Big Folk have to answer to the law," he says through gritted teeth when he has finished and comes back upright on his knees.
"Feel free to add your own contribution, little lady.." Scarface says, leaning down to speak in her ear. "You're behaving so far, luckily." He straightens back again so Amelia will have room to relieve herself of any wealth, his eyes flicking up towards Breehill occasionally.
Hatman waits until Stouthill has deposited everything in the bag, then moves to the pack pony and swiftly cuts loose all of it's burdens. "Let her down.. " He says when that is done, passing the heavy sack up to Scarface and moving around behind Stouthill, pressing the tip of the sword against the hobbit's back.
Amelia is taken by the arm and lowered down to the ground by her captor, and Hatman gives her a solid gaze. "Check Pumpkin here to be sure he hasn't missed any wealth.. no funny business."
Amelia hunches and cringes as the man leans over to speak in her ear. She nods repeatedly, very quickly, her face white. She is trying to unbend her knuckles from her death-grip on the mane when she is suddenly lifted again and gives a new squeal.
She stumbles a bit and then she is set down. She fumbles at her belt and from beneath her skirt is drawn a purse-- not as fat as the stout hobbit's, but not as small as perhaps was expected. She sets it, trembling, near the other hobbit's things.
She then approaches Stouthill and looks down at him, hands twisting together under her chin. She looks up at the bigfolk and pleads, "Oh, I don't want to go through his things! It's-- It's /indecent/!"
The stout hobbit raises his eyes to her and would have laughed in any other circumstances but he gives the hatted ruffian a sidelong glance and says with a rueful grimace, "Oh, mistress, do what they tell you and be hanged with indecent. What they are doing is indecent!
Scarface, up on the horse, drags the sack up to begin securing to the saddle, tying it tightly. Hatman is taking up another, smaller bag to collect up the last of the shinies from the ground. "I don't care if it's against one of your pint-sized laws, check his pockets and be quick about it or I'll have him search -you-, Bunny!" Hatman's tone is harsh and he glares down at her impatiently.
Amelia is trembling from head to toe but nods at the stout hobbit. She lowers herself to her knees, her skirts all around her like a great wooly mushroom. "It still ain decent," she whispers as she timidly sticks her hands into the other hobbit's pockets.
"Go on ahead with ye and don't pay it no nevermind, mistress. They made you do it but you won't find anything 'cept maybe a stray copper," Stouthill whispers to her. "Sooner it is done, sooner they will go their way," he nods in encouragement.
Hatman waits, watching with a small smirk of amusement. Amelia's suffering brings a soft chuckle. Scarface finishes securing their haul to the saddle, still looking up at the hill. "Bree.. so soft." His words are derisive. Hatman laughs, "Aye.. like this little sweetling. Hobbits!" He reaches down then to snatch any coins from Amelia that she's found on the portly Stouthill. Then the thug in the hat moves around behind the kneeling hobbit and pushes at his back with a dirty, booted toe. "On your belly, pufferfish." One last glance-over and he begins jogging off into the woods. Scarface turns the horse about and follows.
Amelia does indeed find a copper and is offering it up to the thief with a trembling hand when it is snatched away. She gives a squeak again and curls up in a little shivering huddle as they ride away.
"Uuuuffs," when he is pushed into the ground where he lies blinking in relief. He had been braced for a blade. The ruffians are not 20 paces away and he rises, dust powdering him white as a dumpling. He stoops still on his knees trying to gather the trembling hobbit lady up, " Are ye alright, Mistress?" he asks concern wrinkling his face.
The rotund hobbit, "Uuuuffs," when he is pushed into the ground where he lies blinking in relief. He had been braced for a blade. The ruffians are not 20 paces away and he rises, dust powdering him white as a dumpling. He stoops still on his knees trying to gather the trembling hobbit lady up, " Are ye alright, Mistress?" he asks concern wrinkling his face.
Amelia grips his arm and arises while still shaking, keeping close to his side while the ruffians are still in sight. "I'm fine, 'm fine!" she says, the fright clear still in her voice. "Oh, what are we t' do, sir?" she frets. "We can't be takin' the herds to the hills with such a dishonest sort about!"
Shaking his head, he gets them both up with a heave and stands looking at the dust of the ruffians disappearance. "Nor honest folks going about their trade," he says ruefully.
"Well," he says slapping the dirt off himself, "they didn't get much but what they did get has value to me. Was me granddad's watch and a locket of my dead mum's hair. Only seed grain in those sacks, worth a bit but it won't break me."
Offering her his arm he turns towards Bree, "What did they have of you, Mistress?"
Amelia is just jittering beside the stout hobbit, holding to his arm and looking over her shoulder at where the ruffians went. "M-my purse. Was looking to buy a bit of new cloth and some o the winter feed." She sighs shakily. "Wanted a nice red," she says, as if the cloth is the greater loss.
Players: Amelia, Stouthill, Scarface, Hatman
Located in: Breefolk
