Sidra and her uncle, Torebras Bywater, at the animal market.

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Animal Market

A rudimentary corral has been set up here made of rope and roughly shaped logs. Animals of all kinds mill within - some are tied near their owners, others wander loose - cows, goats, sheep you may even see a pony if you're lucky. Nearby are stacks of cages containing a multitude of chickens and ducks. In the spring, piglets add their distinctive odor to the mix, which overall is quite fragrant. Also dusty. Also noisy. A barrel has been split lengthwise and half-buried in the dirt for a makeshift watertrough. If you want to buy or sell any livestock, this is clearly the place to be. A wooden sign is nailed to a post with today's prices chalked onto it.

Sidra glances about the room, her eyes setting on a little piglet, "Uncle Brass! 'Tis is a nice piggy, no?" she runs closer to it to touch its snout, and pat it over the back, "Look, this one is almost pinkish!"

August is at an end, and the hot weather shows no sign of letting up yet. On this particular afternoon, the animal market is rather ... fragrant, one might say. Not to mention filthy, as a goat kicks moodily at the post to which it is tethered and a pig rolls happily in the dust.

Torebras Bywater, Mayor of Bree, stalks past the pens with his handkerchief held to his nose, ever with a care where his feet tread. At Sidra's outburst he sighs, and edges just a little closer, scowling as a puff of dust lands on his fine black breeches. "Yes, dear, lovely," he responds, trying to brush the dust away.

Sidra laughs and gets closer to Torebras, tugging on his clothing, "Do you really do think so? We could have it at home, we could, in that case!" She beams and tilts her head, watching him for an answer, "We could have it in the back yard, or maybe in the kitchen, eating from a small bowl!"

Torebras winces almost involuntarily as Sidra's no-doubt-grubby fingers grasp his coat. "My nice clean hobbit hole is not a pigsty!" he declares in a tone of outrage. "Ah, ours I mean." He glances across to Sidra's father in case he's listening.

�Something about that upturned little face seems to make him relent though. "I don't think a pig would be a suitable pet for folk living in town, littling," he tells Sidra gently. "Perhaps something smaller? Like - ah ..." The words trail off as he tries to think.

Sidra looks at the sheeps, now, heading towards them, "'tis no smaller, Brass, but it's furry!" She laughs, running to pat the sheep, too, who blankly stares at her, "Look at the fur, it's soft! Oh, very soft it is!"

For several heartbeats the Mayor of Bree is at a complete loss for words. His mouth opens and shuts fishlike as he tries to think of a non-hurtful response. "Soft, yes. Haven't you ever touched a sheep before?" Unlikely, that. He glances over to Sidra's father for rescue - but alas, that is not to be, for the other hobbit has been stopped by a passer-by and engaged in conversation.

Sidra smiles, "But so, if I had an animal, I would have to keep watch on it, and I couldn't wander, much." She laughs a little, nodding, "That's what you're aimin' at, isn’t it?"

"Oh!" The sudden look of relief on Torebras' face suggests he's fallen for that bait - hook, line and sinker. He tries to sidestep the issue, though. "Sidra, it is very important that you don't wander. It really is." He gets down to her level to emphasize that point, which requires dropping to one knee on the dusty ground. His breeches will never look quite the same after. "There are so many dangers Outside - hasn't your father told you about the little Appledore boy? We're doing our best to search, but ... sometimes bad things happen."

Sidra makes a wry face, but has still got a glint in her eye "Then I think you should get me a sheep. Or a piglet. Or a rabbit. Or a Horse." She smiles a little, "It would make it all so much more difficult, and I would have to go home at night to give it a rest." She smiles and pats the sheep, once more, on the head, giving it a leaf which she finds laying at the ground.

"A horse? Do you have any /idea/ how much that would cost?" Torebras, counter of pennies, looks appalled. "Maybe a rabbit," he murmurs weakly, mopping at his brow with his handkerchief. Finally noticing Sidra's complete lack of attention, he gets up ...

Or at least he tries to. Unfortunate, really, that the sheep should have wandered so near that tethered goat (probably the nearby food-trough had something to do with that). And that the goat should choose this moment to investigate. Hot, itchy and generally grumpy, it takes umbrage to the sight of Torebras's rear planted on /its/ territory and, horns lowered, it butts heavily.

Sidra has not a lack of attention, at all, but is very perceptive - but who wouldn't notice Torebras's misfortune. She only laughs at the goat, now, and gets a bit closer to it, to give him, too, some leafs. The goat looks more interested in her clothing though, but as he starts munching her dress, she pushes him away from her.

Torebras, alas, is not quite so perceptive when it comes to animals. The goat's actions have taken him quite unaware, and he now lies sprawled full-length on the ground, his fine silk handkerchief dropped and carried off by the breeze until it comes to rest in a cow-pat. Groaning, Torebras pushes himself back to his feet, staring vainly at the state of clothing. "Oh my," he exclaims.

Sidra laughs at Torebras, "Brass! You're quite funny. I thought you didn't like playing around at the floor like that." She sits down at a bale of hale, peering at Torebras with a smile lingering on her face, "You shouldn't, Brass, or ye'll get all dirty!"

Fastidiously, Torebras picks off a piece of straw, and brushes at that smear of ... is it only mud? Best not to think about it. "I don't like it," he snaps at the child, then rolls his eyes. "/Get/ all dirty? You don't consider this bad enough?" Pets - and goats - have been quite forgotten.

The goat takes advantage of the moment to nibble at the edge of Torebras' coat.

Sidra smiles and jumps down from the bale to take hold of the goat, "You shouldn't let it eat on her clothes, then, or they'll get both dirty /and/ ragged." She looks up at Torebras, now, the smile still on her face, "So I'd get a rabbit?"

"Insufferable beast," Torebras mutters in the goat's direction, and edges away to a point just beyond the reach of its tether. Looking back at Sidra, he concedes, "Weeell. All right, just a rabbit. Shall we go and look at them, then?"

Sidra nods eagerly, "We could. I'll follow ye." She walks closer to Torebras, again, holding a piece of his now soiled coat in her hand.

Gingerly Torebras reaches out a hand to pat Sidra's flyaway curls (if she doesn't duck away). As they pass his soiled handkerchief he gives a long sigh, but doesn't attempt to retrieve the filthy item. "Look, littling - there they are."

Over by one corner of the corral a small pen has been set up, with a red-cheeked farmwife watching it. A crude sign printed above the pen reads, "Coneys - 15 pennies. Fatten them now - Ideel for Yule." Sidra makes a wry face, "That sign is all very harsh towards the poor animals."

Torebras blinks. "Nonsense, Sidra dear." Looking to the farmwife, he states officiously, "The child here would like a rabbit as a pet." He coughs. "Do you have anything suitable?" A pause, then he adds, "Oh, can you make sure it's of the ... ah, male variety?"

Sidra shakes her head, "No, uncle Brass! I want a girl! Boys can't have babies!"

Torebras turns beet-red. "That was the point," he mutters.

The farmwife, meanwhile, has reached a hand into the pen and comes up with a scrawny tan-brown individual. Holding its wriggling body in one broad fist, she scrutinizes it then announces, "That un's a boy. Deffinately. Want ta take a look, little'un?"

Sidra pouts and heads for the rabbits, herself, taking up the one with a marking like a black patch around the eye, in difference to all the rest, simple browned. She pats it over the back, with slow movements. This rabbit is not so very thin as the other, and very cute. Sidra's eyes darken soon though, "They're going to eat those I don't buy, though, won't they?"

Sidra's question has the effect of making Torebras hurry his transaction. "Do you want that one? Take it then, hurry up now!" To the farmwife he states, "We'll take that one," he points at Sidra's choice, then reaches into his wallet. "Here you are.

The farmwife drops the unwanted rabbit carelessly back into the pen.

Sidra is still holding the rabbit, looking quite pleased "Oh, look uncle Brass! I think it's a girl! Isn't it?" she turns to the farmwife for an answer, "Isn't it a girl, mes?"

The farmwife, sizing him up and no doubt eager to hold on to her money, barely peers at Sidra's new acquisition before declaring stoutly, "Nonsense. A boy, of course." Is she just a little too certain?

Sidra makes another wry face, the corners of her mouth sinking down to an upturned U. One might notice though, if perceptive, that she is trying really hard not to laugh, "Alright, mes. That was a really nice thing to hear." She turns to Torebras, now, "Did you hear, Brass? I can have it together with the male rabbits, because it's not a girl, so they can't have any babies." She nods confidently, "See? I got a male rabbit! Mes said so, so now I can have it with other male rabbits, without you worrying!"

Sidra looks more happy when having turned to Torebras, seemingly because of the good news. It's a male!

Torebras rolls his eyes, looking rather less happy. "Never mind that. Now come along - your daddy will be getting worried." As if. At Sidra's happiness he relents, though. "I'm glad you like your present, littling. Just remember you're the one who's got to look after it ..."

Sidra laughs and nods, "Yes, and I know people who have other rabbits, and as this one can't have babies, I'll let him meet them!" she takes a happy leap after Torebras, "That way this little rabbit won't have to be lonesome!"

Torebras reaches into his pocket for his handkerchief, only to find it empty. Glancing round, he mops at his forehead with a corner of his sleeve instead. As the pair return to Sidra's father, he gives a weak little sigh.

Sidra runs towards her father, "Daddy! See! I got a rabbit! A cute little 'un! And it's a boy, so he won't have any babies, and so I can have it together with other rabbits, and so he'll never ever feel lonely!" She giggles and laughs and dances around, with the rabbit still in her arms, then she gets quieter, stopping, "The rabbit might not like the bouncing, just now. He might have become very sad when leaving his friends, especially when knowing that they are awaiting a forthcoming Death!"

"Hush, hush," Torebras remonstrates vainly, and gives Sidra's father a worn-out look. "You know, I think I've just remembered some business I have to attend to," he temporizes. "I'll see you both later." Then, with a wave and a rather forced smile, the Mayor of Bree, dusty, dishevelled and with a piece missing from the hem of his best green coat, threads his way through the passers-by and out of sight...