Cleaning up her mess

Main Room

An old and battered desk sits facing the door. There is a wooden chair behind it, and two in front - all as aged as the desk. Two windows face the street, letting in both light and air (when the shutters are open), and a long rough bench runs along the wall to the left. At some point in the distant past, the walls had been white-washed cleanly, but now they are dingy and faded. Scarred wooden planks make up the floor and the ceiling is tall, and high enough to be out of range of people's heads. Torches hang in metal brackets, no doubt made by the town's metalsmiths. At the back of the room, just to the side of the desk (guarded by it, one might think, by its proximity) is a heavy wooden door.

Obvious exits:

Street and Door to the Hallway

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

Real time: Thu Aug 14 14:23:23 2008

Bree time: Early Morning <09:10:09> on Highday of Autumn - September 9,1444

Moon Phase: New Moon

Breelands Weather

The early morning autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The day sky is cloud-filled and gloomy.

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It is midmorning, and a rather grey one at that. Already the scorching heat of high summer is past, and there's a dampness in the air, hint that autumn will soon be here. The sort of day when one must force oneself to duty ... and 'forced' might be a good word to describe the expression on Mayor Torebras Bywater's face as he walks purposefully into the Breeguard headquarters. "I heard you had Miss Wood in custody?" he asks the guard at the desk, scowling all the while. I thought we'd seen the last of her ... Reluctance is in every step - it's certainly taken him a while to act on that information.

[Cordelia(#1394)] One of the guardsmen--who may or may not have been sleeping through this heat--jumps hastily to his feet. "Hrm? What?! Oh sir, yes sir...Miss Wood...in there," he points toward the cells, hurriedly pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket. "She's been asking when you might come by, in fact," he adds, one hand hurrying to his face to cover a yawn.

Torebras pauses to take off his hat, running a hand through his chestnut curls as the stuffy warmth of the building hits him, and raises an eyebrow. "Really? She can hardly expect me to wait on her hand and foot. I have important things to do, you know!" Like ... breakfast, yes. He clears his throat then sighs. "I suppose it's time I dealt with her. Very well, open the door."

[Cordelia(#1394)] The guard is all too happy to shuffle over to the cell door, fuss with the keys, and open the door. "I'll be right here if you need me, sir!" he says, punctuating that promise with a yawn sure to inspire confidence in his lightning-quick reflexes.

At the sound of voices, Cordelia sprang to her feet, hurrying to look out the cell window. On seeing Torerbras, she began to pace her cell, stopping as the door squeaks open now, and turning to face the mayor. Her hands are laced together in front of her and she stands about 5 feet from the door.

Torebras looks a little discomfited at the yawn. "I'm expecting you to handle any trouble," he tells the guard sternly - but then the door swings open and he's facing Cordelia herself. "Well, Miss Wood?" he enquires sternly. "What do you have to say for yourself?" He looks her up and down with a distasteful expression on his face - but his hands are clenched tightly round his hat, twisting it this way and that. Nervous?

[Cordelia(#1394)] "Oh, yes sir, of course. It's me job," the guard answers, backing up quickly. "I'm right here," he repeats as he hurries to sit behind the protection of his desk. Then again, the prisoner is a scrawny young woman--she's not going to bust her way out of the place--or so the roll of the guard's eyes (behind the mayor's back) seems to say.

It takes a while for Cordelia to answer. Her eyes don't leave Torebras, watching the mayor's expression--but especially watching his hands.

Finally, the young woman drops her eyes and then her head. "I'm...sorry..?" she replies, quietly remorseful. "I don't know what came over me....I was scared and the elf was saying horrible thigns and ....it frightened me....I mean...an elf! They're scary enough, but this one was looming over me, big and frightenign, and I just...hit him..."

The words seem to shock Torebras out of his fidgeting. "Come, come, Miss Wood," he protests. "I may not be as well-travelled as some," here he wrinkles his nose, "but I do know a little of the world, I assure you. Elves are hardly scary. The Fair Folk eschew violence." When they're in Bree, anyway. You stand accused of assault - that is a serious crime," here he tries his best to deepen his voice. "Your accomplice has already been dealt with - now it merely falls to me to pass judgement on you." The hat-twisting starts up again.

[Cordelia(#1394)] "I panicked," Cordelia says, nodding, her voice now filling with tears. She looks up--a tear runs down one cheek. "What will you do with me?I'd never seen elves before I came to Bree...and my mother...she told horrible stories about them. They scared me...."

Torebras' hat creaks ominously under the strain of his twisting. "In a civilized place like Bree," he puts particular emphasis on the 'civilized', "folk stay away from things that scare them. They do not attack innocent travellers!"

[Cordelia(#1394)] "Yes sir," Cordelia replies meekly, only looking up briefly to the mayor. "I ...he said he wanted to talk, and I was all right with that, but then he went to grab me and I panicked...but I'm new here still and still learning how folks ought to act. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Torebras looks quite outraged. Here he is, all gearing up for a verbal sparring match, and the criminal dares to express remorse? He shakes his head and sighs. "I really don't know what to do. You've been a bad influence on young Master Pinewick, you've stirred up trouble with those other incomers up in Archet ... I /had/ thought to banish you from the Breelands," he glares at her challengingly to see how she'll react. "You've brought trouble with you, and there's no place for trouble here."

[Cordelia(#1394)] "Banish me?" The girl looks up, frightened--as if she didn't just run off south in the middle of the night, only to be dragged back to town by the ranger Grey and by Maglind, the elf. "Where...where would I go?" she frowns. "I'd be killed by a troll on the road!"

"That didn't seem to stop you before," Torebras remarks ungraciously. He drops his gaze to his hat, and self-consciously begins trying to straighten it out. "Confusticated Elves," he mutters to himself. "Why do /I/ have to deal with this?"

[Cordelia(#1394)] "I....I can live with my Uncle Hector..in Combe...." Cordelia offers quietly. "He'll take me in, I'm sure of it." Oh, uncle Hector is going to be just thrilled to hear his niece committed a crime, but she doesn't mention that. "And you're right...I /did/ run away before, but it was in a blind panic." Blind panic with a horse and supplies for travelingon the road, mind you. "I ...there must be something I can do to make ammends, isn't there?"

"Well ..." Torebras lets that one word drag out as he vainly tries to smooth out the last few creases from his hat (just as well it was only his second-best!). Giving up on the attempt, he looks up to Cordelia. "Since you /have/ expressed remorse, I am prepared to offer you one more chance. We'll contact your Uncle - what did you say his surname was? - and see if he'll agree to take you in, then release you into his custody. You will not be allowed to carry any weapons on your person - Bree is a safe place, there's no need. And you will be required to make restitution ... hmm. Seeing as your victim is no longer in town, perhaps you should render some service to the community." His brown eyes grow distant as he starts to think.

[Cordelia(#1394)] "Hector...Hector Appledore," Cordelia frowns. "My sister Liuni is with him--he's in Combe, with his wife Holly."

"Restitution?" The girl's forehead wrinkles even more, remembering how very briefly Nob had her scrubbing out privvies in the Pony. "I...I could...cut vegetables in the Pony?" she offers, citing her old paying job there. "Or...I could deliver food to elderly Breefolk? I could help the healers?"

"Ah, an Appledore." Torebras' mouth twists at that perfectly respectable name, as though he were chewing on a sour plum. As Cordelia makes her suggestions, the Mayor supplies his own murmured commentary, perhaps not aware that it's perfectly loud enough to be heard. "Much too risky ... no, no, Grandfer Brockfoot would never let me hear the last of it ... maybe - ah, I have it!" He beams, then triumphantly clears his throat. "Up at the Healer's house they do get through an awful lot of laundry. Bedsheets and the like." He coughs delicately, not expanding that statement further. "You can do their laundry for them." He clearly expects Cordelia to be just as delighted as he is.

[Cordelia(#1394)] "Laundress?!" This is the first that Cordelia protests, showing some backbone and -no- remorse. "But...but...that's horrible work! I mean, boiling and carrying the water and then bending over hot tubs and scrubbing...my hands will bleed! And it's filthy work, to boot!"

"Quite," Torebras murmurs before he can stop himself, quickly turning the murmur into a cough. Taking a deep breath, he draws himself up as tall as he can and addresses Cordelia rather haughtily. "Miss Wood, your ill-thought actions left an innocent visitor bleeding in a muddy field. The least you can do is make amends. Cleaning the blood and .. ah, dirt, of others seems quite an appropriate action." Perhaps he relents a little, for he ends, more gently, "I'm sure if you carry out your duties well, the healers will find other work for you to do."

[Cordelia(#1394)] "Laundress then," Cordelia answers, her brows still knitted but her tone indicating reluctant acceptance of this fate. "For how long does this hold? When am I considered to have repaid society and repented?"

"That, Miss Wood," Torebras replies pompously, "will depend entirely on you. Let me see - I shall review your case at the end of the year. If the reports I receive are favourable, we will consider the debt paid. If not ..." He trails off ominously.

[Cordelia(#1394)] "A year?!" Cordelia squeaks, protesting that vehemently. "A year?! How am I supposed to earn a living if I have to wash dirty sheets for a eyear?! I have to live off the charity of my uncle--me -and- Liuni! What if he doesn't take us in?" she presses that point.

Torebras lets his breath out in a snort. "At the end of the year I said. Summer is already almost gone - it will only be a few months. We must mete out some punishment for crimes, to act as a deterrent." He attempts an avuncular smile.

The other question sets him pondering. "I'm sure they'll give you a bed up at the Healer's House," he tells Cordelia, then frowns. "As for the little girl ... didn't you say your Uncle was looking after her? If he can't take up the duty long-term, I suppose we'll have to look into fostering. There must be plenty of folk who're desperate for a child of their own. Does that clear things up?" He gives his battered hat a final tug, then places it back on his head. Interview over, clearly.

[Cordelia(#1394)] "No, you can't give her away!" Cordelia gasps, going pale with real and sudden fear. Quick as a flash she drops to her knees, tugging at the mayor's leg, begging, "Please! Anything but that! I'll wash sheets for the rest of my life if I have to, but don't give my sister to some other family! If my uncle won't take her, let me take care of her!"

Torebras is already turning to go when Cordelia grabs at his foot. "Wha-?" he murmurs, managing not to overbalance. "Calm down!" Fastidiously he tries to tug his leg free. "I thought you were worried about the little girl not having a home?" he asks, his round face filled with perplexity. "But I'm sure any fears are groundless. What decent person wouldn't take in a young relative? I'm sure your uncle will be happy to look after little Luini. Let's not worry about it for now, eh?"

[Cordelia(#1394)] "All right, sir, I won't, sir. Thank you, sir." Cordelia's hand is easily loosed from the hobbit's leg as soon as he tugs--the girl withdrawing her hand quickly, as if touching the mayor was somehow a dangerous and forbidden thing. And then as Torebras speaks to her, she stays kneeling on the floor to reply, her head down. "Thank you..." she repeats again quietly.

Torebras blinks, trying to fathom what exactly he is being thanked for. In the end he gives up on the attempt, and simply states, "Good day, Miss Wood. I'll see that a message is sent to your uncle up in Combe at once, and we'll take things from there. Now, if you'll excuse me ..." Duty done - and my, what an onerous duty! Already the Mayoral stomach is beginning to rumble - he turns on his heel and marches quickly away, before Cordelia can importune him again.

[Cordelia(#1394)] Cordelia stays down on her knees for as the mayor leaves, and still stays at that way as the guard comes and locks the door. It's only when the door is shut and the sounds of footsteps fade in the hallway that she slowly gets up and moves to sit on the cot in the cell and think. Her face gives away no reaction, though.