Elendor
Strategic planning
Thari finds Frarin supping in the common room at the Prancing Pony and the two discuss, to the Breelanders' endless amusement, the desperate situation of Bree and what can be done.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Common room, Prancing Pony
Game Date: Day 12 of May 3043
field_date_rl: Feb 24, 2008
IC Time: Early night
Weather: Cool, raining
Description:
The early night spring air is cool but pleasant around you. The night sky still dumps copious amounts of rain down upon you.
Common Room
This large and rectangular room serves the purpose of Common Room for the Prancing Pony. Large windows along the western end of the room peek out over the Great East Road which runs outside the Inn. There are long tables with bench seats for the patrons in the centre of the room. Nestled into the wall is a large fireplace with several bundles of wood piled next to it. Overhead, lamps hang down from roof beams, but their light is dim and half-veiled in smoke. The corners of the room are wrapped in shadow.
Type PHELP for help using the menu at the Pony.
Contents:
Thari
Dart Board
Obvious exits:
Out
Danuf enters the Common Room through the open doorway.
Danuf has arrived.
[Frarin] The thumpity-thump of the rain outside can be dimly heard near the windows of the common room of the Prancing Pony, but towards the centre of the large room, the noise is drowned out by the inn's patrons. The common room is fairly bustling this night, more so than usual because of the rain and the gossip to be had concerning the town's current vistors. The windows are glossed over with steam as wet cloaks and hoods are disgarded for pints of Butterbur's best beer, making the already packed room seem even closer.
In one corner sits Frarin, alone and brooding. A plate of roast beef, bread and potatos sits before him, as well as a pint of the inn's famous beer. He eats quietly, dark eyes only glancing up every now and again. But most noticeable is the fact that he is left almost entirely to himself. The table at which he sits is small and empty except for him and, though there are a multitude of stolen glances in the dwarf's direction, none approach him.
[Thari(#31038)] A figure fills half of the doorway to the common room (the lower half, specifically). Thari pauses there, sling gone, clothes mended and clean, though her hair is still completely unbraided and loose to her waist. So busy is the room taht there are no empty tables near her so she pushes into the crowd, not-quite-politey elbowing humans in the thighs if needed to get them to move.
Ah, there! Her face turns to a near-empty table with only a dwarf sitting, which is even better than an empty one! "Hail, Frarin!" She moves toward the dark corner.
[Danuf(#29900)]
ZzzZzzzzZzzZzzZzzZZZZ *snort* *Snuffle* ZzZzZzzzzZz
Yes indeed, the portly form of Danuf can be seen dozing at one of the corner booths. The chubby cook has several empty plates infront of him, and more than a few empty tankards, it seems the chef has drunk and eaten himself into acoma, but he looks happy enough! His snoring not so loud that it could wake the dead, but it would sure drive away the tourists.
[Frarin] Taking a draw from the large tankard of beer, Frarin replaces the pint on the table just as a figure looms on his left. His brows come together as he turns, apparently expecting some inquisitive young Breelander to be approaching. But the silver merchant catches his name over the din of the common room just as his eyes fall upon Thari and his face visably relaxes as she nears. "Hail, Thari!" he calls back to her, deep voice grumbling above the noise. "Come for supper, have you? But your arm?" he says suddenly, greeting breaking off as his gaze goes to her sling-less right arm. "It is fully healed then?"
The snorting, snuffling Danuf, however, draws Frarin's glance. The merchant looks towards the ceiling with a look of long suffering. "He's been at that for a half hour at least," he mutters before gesturing for Thari to take a seat.
[Thari(#31038)] "Arm's much better," Thari reports cheerfully. She climbs up into the chair, still favoring her left arm. "The sling did it. My memories--" she is interrupted by a snort by Danuf.
Thari smiles almost fondly. "Old Danuf. I'm amazed he wasn't eaten by a troll!"
Danuf would probably be an excellent meal, all plump and juicy. The dwarf stirs a little, a fly having landed on his nose! That bulbuous, plump protruding wiggles a bit, the dwarf subconciously trying to rid himself of the itching insect. However the little fly persists, eventually driving Danuf to smack at his nose. Perhaps he over-estimated his own strength, or perhaps he just hated that fly.... either way his fist connects with his nose, and the sickening slap is followed by a grunt of pain as the dwarf wakes, "Gargh! Flies!" he cries, sitting up quickly, blinking and shaking his head to clear it of the little birdies.
[Frarin] "He probably ate the troll first," says Frarin, a small smile playing across his lips. He cuts a piece of his roast beef away and downs it up with wedge of slivered potato, still listening to the drunken cook's snores. "Mind you, there are few who can best his roast beef, not even the Prancing Pony." He watches as Danuf slaps himself into wakefulness, then turns his attention back to his own table.
"Well, I'm glad to see you're coming along. Have you eaten yet?" he asks Thari.
[Thari(#31038)] "No, but I've a mind to." Thari leans to one side and tries to catch the attention of a barmaid. "I'm starting to remember things, starting a couple of days ago, but my memories from before that aren't coming back yet. Maybe tomorrow."
Thari catches the barmaid's eye. "Plate of the roast beef, beer!" calls the shorter dwarf.
Danuf grumbles, stretching his thick arms as he gets out of his seat, letting out a little groan as he arches his back, feeling a few bones crackling as the ligements pop. The dwarf shuffles towards the door leading out, grumbling something about the plum duff pudding he ate last night, it seems all that fiber is going where it should go. A little burst of flatulence has the dwarf clutching his rear, picking up the pace as he bolts for the outhouse...
[Frarin] "Give it time," says Frarin quietly, continuing to clear his plate with a solemn diligence. "How much do you remember directly after the battle? There was not much to remember, only our caravan moving as quickly as possible with the wounded and few supplies." A sip of beer and a thought suddenly seems to crop up in Frarin's mind, for he sets the tankard down with a grunt. "Ah, have you heard? High Warder Thorak has departed Bree with a scouting party. Perhaps we might now have some information about where the approaching army stands."
[Thari(#31038)] "Aaaugh, Danuf!" Thari leans away from the passing cook, her face screwed up in disgust, and aims a kick at him after he's gone.
"I remember--" Thari begins, but Frarin suddenly drops his tankard. Her brows lift. "Really? That was bright of him. Should've brought a hobbit with him to spread the word to the rest."
[Frarin] Frarin nods to Thari, but he sits back with a shake of his head and a veiled smile at her suggestion. "A hobbit accompany a dwarf? A company of dwarves? Not likely, much less if it involves going beyond the borders of Bree's beloved hedge. But with any hope, the scouts will return with news, and without the orcs hot on their heels. If even that wretched host would approach so that Bree could see it from a distance, that would do. The defenses are slowly taking shape, but they will be useless if the townsfolk have no warning to decide to man them."
Thari sighs and pulls at her short beard. "I don't mind dying, now, you'd never hear me say that. I've faced death plenty of times. It's the dying on account of stupidity that troubles me. Who'd be singing a song about Thari the Noble, who died in defense of a lot of bull-headed hobbits? Nobody, that's who. Oh, thank you." The barmaid sets down a tankard and a plate, giving Thari a LOOK before walking off. Thari ignores this.
[Frarin] "Yes, stupidity," Frarin repeats, nodding thoughtfully. He pushes his empty plate away from him and digs into his tunic for his pipe. "Stupidity. Yes, that is what I felt for some time, but somehow, not anymore." His voice trails off as his pipe is withdrawn and he stuffs a pinch of pipeweed into the round bowl. A tiny flame flares before the pipe is merrily smoking and its sweet smell is wafting about the table.
"This stupidity, where else can it be found in this world? Certainly not near Erebor, in the wilderness of the east. In the south? Nay, the shadow of orcs and other evil creatures plagues the south as well. Eriador is by no means trouble free, but I am not so troubled to die in defense of this last pocket of stupid innocence. It is a little task, perhaps unworthy of grand songs, but I shall complete it nonetheless."
He takes a deep breath, absently rapping his knuckles upon the table as his pipe puffs up little whisps of smoke. "My only wish," he continues, musing, "is that something could be done to make the prospect of death less absolute. I do not fear it anymore than you, but if I swear myself to defending the ridiculous innocence of this town and its land, I do so in hopes that it might somehow still be saved. But how? Is it still possible? That is what troubles me."
Thari slowly cuts her meat, watching Frarin as he speaks. She nods once or twice in firm agreement.
A bite of beef is brought to her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. She points at Frarin with her knife thoughtfully, "Now I don't know a thing about tactics. Never have. My dear father brought me on these trips and taught me properly, taught me to have the, you know, the lads to do the fighting unless it can't be helped. And then if it can't be helped, to whallop any foe that comes near to me. That's proper. So tactics don't figure much in that and perhaps I should be thinking of them."
Thari takes a drink of her beer and sets the tanker down. "But what else can we do but what we're doing? I can't wait for the scouts to come back!"
[Frarin] Frarin pulls on the stem of his pipe, releasing a cloud of smoke as Thari speaks. Amusement glitters in his dark eyes as he crosses his arms across his chest, one hand gently cradling the pipe. "Tactics are not my forte either," he says after she finishes. "I was speaking with Thane Ovor before we reached Bree about this. I've spent my entire adult life travelling and I have little patience for staying in one place for too long, I would have prefered this town to be emptied instead of waiting for our foes to surround us."
He leans forward, still speaking around the stem of his pipe, the fingers of his right hand outlining the layout of Bree as he speaks. "But that clearly will not happen. Now, the way the town is layed out is somewhat helpful to a seige. Bree-hill, that is the great hill behind the inn here, covers the town's east side and it has a steep drop on the outer side. And behind the hill there is the Chetwood forest, which would inhibit any attack from the east. Those Breelanders that have agreed to help construct defenses are digging a ditch just at the bottom of Bree-hill and using the displaced dirt to create a hill on the eastern side of the ditch. At the bottom of the ditch there will be sharpened stakes. The intent, of course, is to slow any attack from the east. But therein lies our two chief problems."
Leaning back again, Frarin points the stem of his pipe at Thari. "Now try to imagine this from an orc's point of view. First, you would approach at night and without torches, to catch the Breelanders off guard and to give yourself the advantage of darkness. Additionally, this gives no time for Bree to realise their mistake of disbelief, no time to climb to the top of Bree-hill and hurl whatever projectiles they might. With no threat from above, what will keep our enemies from simply walking cautiously around the stakes? Nothing. Second, if the greatest defense is on the east side, what should keep this army from sweeping around Bree? Or worse, from bypassing the town altogether and continuing onto the Shire?"
[Thari(#31038)] "Nothing!" Thari's silverware clank down on her plate in puctuation. "Absolutely nothing. I didn't even think of the darkness business! Rrrg the trolls will have a feast of the wee hobbits!" She picks up her knife again and viciously slices a potato in half. "It'd be better just to go out and try to reduce their numbers before we die, so perhaps the grief would be lessened."
[Frarin] "You see?" says Frarin with a tinge of frustration in his voice. "If only these Breelanders would act!" He lowers his voice as the irritated exclamation brings more curious glances than usual. "But they won't, so it was my thought to do at /something/, if only to feel as if our desperate ride here was not for nothing. But these defenses will be useless unless the orcs approach in broad daylight, which not even those evil beasts are daft enough to do." Slouching in his chair, Frarin shakes his head with a heavy sigh. "March out to meet them? And a grand end we would meet. At least then we might die in the open rather than cowering in this wretched town."
For a time he is silent, only puffing gently on his pipe. Could the silver merchant actually be considering such an end? But no, slowly a light comes into his eyes as if some new thought had descended. "But perhaps you have something there, Thari. If we stay here, grief is certain. If we ride out to meet the orcs head on, grief is certain. Might we try to draw them off though? Give them a reason to deviate from their path?"
Thari releases a little sigh that bows her proud head. Sorrow comes to her eyes a moment before she glances down to hide this. There is a pause as she eats a bite of potato. "Yes. That might be an idea. Perhaps make them chase us?"
[Frarin] "Chase us, yes," nods Frarin, blowing away a smoke ring. "Perhaps make them believe us to be a larger army." He falls silent for a time, as if troubled. His beard bunches up around his throat as he chins sinks in thought. "But what then?" he asks, looking up. "Where would we go? We cannot run forever, even with the stoutest ponies. And orcs will only scare for so long if they see only /signs/ of a larger army rather than the army itself. How to keep them from turning back to Bree? We still need sufficient numbers."
Thari shakes her head. "I don't know. I don't know! Where? To the south there are men, who could perhaps help, but who perhaps we would be giving death. To the north there is nothing. And why would they turn back East?" She tears at her bread.
[Frarin] Frarin's fingers rap repeatedly on the tabletop, eyes darting around the room as he thinks. He leans forward, lifting his beer to his lips and taking only a quick gulp before replacing the tanker. His eyes close suddenly, brows coming together as he speaks. "Very well, let's think of the terrain. To the south there are the South Downs. To the north, the far north, there are the North Downs." The silver merchant's eyes remain shut as he speaks, as if visualising a map of the Breelands. A deep breath and he continues. "Northeast there are more hills, the Weathered Downs or the Weather Downs I think they are called. And before them the Midgewater, a marsh. Midgewater is closest, could we wage war there? Few among our company, myself included, have experience of guerrilla warfare."
[Thari(#31038)] "I don't know," says Thari firmly. She is now eating what remains of her dinner in a businesslike fashion. "I think perhaps the warders would know better. Perhaps the High Warder would be best to consult. Have they considered this, I wonder? I keep thinking, I ought to take the young among us and go somewhere- but where can we go? And then I think it would be best to take the women and children of Bree with me, but then they won't go either! My mind goes in circles, Frarin!"
[Frarin] Frarin's eyes snap open as Thari's words grow more stressed. The intensity leaves his eyes and his faces goes stone still again. "Mine as well," says the silver merchant quietly, with forced calm in his grumbling voice. "But do not lose your composure, Thari, or else you may find yourself stamping in frustrated circles like I did some days ago outside the gate. There can be no fleeing from this. Young or old, we need the entirety of our company's strength for what lays ahead. Gerin will be pleased," he adds, muttering half to himself, though there is the barest hint of approval in his tone.
"We can only wait for the High Warder to return with news. I only muse about the possibilities, but I am not charged with leading this company. Lord Thorak will know better than we two what can be done."
Thari tugs on a hank of her hair that falls before her shoulder, all dark in the shadows. "I only wait to find out what will happen. I know a good many things but I'll be the first to admit that I can offer little counsel here." Her silverware drops to her half-eaten plate which she pushes away to rest against Frarin's empty one. "Surrounded by those that we try to protect, who do not care that we protect them, and who we will probably fail in protecting." Something flashes in her eyes. She amends, "Well, that we may fail in protecting, but probably won't. We are dwarves, after all. We will find something I think, Master Frarin, though I know not what!"
[Frarin] A smile tugs at Frarin's lips as Thari's resolve strengthens. Another blue-grey cloud of smoke roils forth from his mouth before he speaks again. "You are quite right, Thari," he nods grimly. "We are dwarves. Our company held its own against superior numbers and without warning of attack. Even if our fate is to march out and meet these orcs, we will leave an impression that they will greatly regret!" A fist comes down, solidly thumping the tabletop and making the empty plates and cutlery clatter. Faces turn to stare at the dwarves, accompanying by a noticeable elevation in the noise level.
[Frarin] "Do you hear that?" Frarin says, raising his voice so that the eager eavesdroppers don't have to crane so to hear the two dwarves. Indeed, several of the nearest become suddenly fidgety as they realise Frarin is addressing them. "Do you hear? We'll do your dirty work and die for it, so that perhaps there are a fraction fewer orcs when they arrive to burn Bree, but when /we/ go, the stories will not be about those who drolled on only about mad dwarves." Those nearby quiet a bit, but someone suddenly gives a nervous laugh and the crowd quickly bursts into uproarious laughter.
"Well," Frarin says, voice returning to normal level, "at least we need not worry about what stories they will tell of us here. But I am with you, Thari. Together we will meet ends that, even if they do not make it into songs, will most certainly resound among the evil beasts of this world for years to come."
Thari turns smugly to watch the crowd, and they begin to laugh at Frarin's speech. "Frarin!" she cries indignantly. "They're LAUGHIN' at you! Laughing! I'll not have it!" She pushes of of her chair, murder in her eyes. Figuratively. Hopefully.
[Frarin] The silver merchant rises quickly as Thari jumps up, reaching for her shoulder as she glares at the crowd. "Peace, Thari! They have been laughing at us since we arrived. And I have had worse attacks upon my person. Save your anger for the enemy!"
That brings another round of laughter from those gathered around the two dwarves, with several taunting comments rising above the din.
Thari's shoulder heaves beneath Frarin's hand from her agitated breathing. Her fists are bunched up she is glaring. "You! You keep saying that and I'll show you what a dwarf's fists can do!" She calls to a taunting man. "Daft we may be but you can't doubt that I'd make you rue your words!"
[Frarin] This last comment brings a quiet over the nearby observers. Yes, perhaps there are more than a few doubting nothing at all. Several laugh nervously again, but all in all, most decide that the best course of action is to very quickly look away. Suddenly the two dwarves seem /vastly/ devoid of anything interesting. Gradually, the din in the common room returns to its normal level.
Frarin's expression is set as if frozen, a scowl painted onto a dwarven face, unmoving. Only the eyes move, darting all about him and Thari. "Come, Master Thari," says the silver merchant, "let us leave this ridiculous company. I would not make merry at such a time, nor," the scowl deepens, "at another's expense."
Thari takes several deep breaths and slowly calms, her body still tight. She watches the room for a little while, silent. "Yes, I think that's a good idea, Frarin. I'll be taking my meals in my room at this rate." She drops a coin on the table and moves toward the door, head high (for a dwarf).
[Frarin] "Agreed," Frarin grumbles loudly, with a meaningful last glance around the room. Still puffing on his pipe, the silver merchant drops another coin on the table and snatches up his tankard of beer, bearing it away with him as he and Thari head for the inn's rooms. At the departure, the common room is once again bustling with talk. There they go again, the mad dwarves and their phantom army! And threatening Breelanders, hah! Like they could have done anything.
Oh well, some things will never change.
Breelands Weather
The early night spring air is cool but pleasant around you. The night sky still dumps copious amounts of rain down upon you.
Common Room
This large and rectangular room serves the purpose of Common Room for the Prancing Pony. Large windows along the western end of the room peek out over the Great East Road which runs outside the Inn. There are long tables with bench seats for the patrons in the centre of the room. Nestled into the wall is a large fireplace with several bundles of wood piled next to it. Overhead, lamps hang down from roof beams, but their light is dim and half-veiled in smoke. The corners of the room are wrapped in shadow.
Contents:
Thari
Dart Board
Obvious exits:
Out
Danuf enters the Common Room through the open doorway.
Danuf has arrived.
[Frarin] The thumpity-thump of the rain outside can be dimly heard near the windows of the common room of the Prancing Pony, but towards the centre of the large room, the noise is drowned out by the inn's patrons. The common room is fairly bustling this night, more so than usual because of the rain and the gossip to be had concerning the town's current vistors. The windows are glossed over with steam as wet cloaks and hoods are disgarded for pints of Butterbur's best beer, making the already packed room seem even closer.
In one corner sits Frarin, alone and brooding. A plate of roast beef, bread and potatos sits before him, as well as a pint of the inn's famous beer. He eats quietly, dark eyes only glancing up every now and again. But most noticeable is the fact that he is left almost entirely to himself. The table at which he sits is small and empty except for him and, though there are a multitude of stolen glances in the dwarf's direction, none approach him.
[Thari(#31038)] A figure fills half of the doorway to the common room (the lower half, specifically). Thari pauses there, sling gone, clothes mended and clean, though her hair is still completely unbraided and loose to her waist. So busy is the room taht there are no empty tables near her so she pushes into the crowd, not-quite-politey elbowing humans in the thighs if needed to get them to move.
Ah, there! Her face turns to a near-empty table with only a dwarf sitting, which is even better than an empty one! "Hail, Frarin!" She moves toward the dark corner.
[Danuf(#29900)]
ZzzZzzzzZzzZzzZzzZZZZ *snort* *Snuffle* ZzZzZzzzzZz
Yes indeed, the portly form of Danuf can be seen dozing at one of the corner booths. The chubby cook has several empty plates infront of him, and more than a few empty tankards, it seems the chef has drunk and eaten himself into acoma, but he looks happy enough! His snoring not so loud that it could wake the dead, but it would sure drive away the tourists.
[Frarin] Taking a draw from the large tankard of beer, Frarin replaces the pint on the table just as a figure looms on his left. His brows come together as he turns, apparently expecting some inquisitive young Breelander to be approaching. But the silver merchant catches his name over the din of the common room just as his eyes fall upon Thari and his face visably relaxes as she nears. "Hail, Thari!" he calls back to her, deep voice grumbling above the noise. "Come for supper, have you? But your arm?" he says suddenly, greeting breaking off as his gaze goes to her sling-less right arm. "It is fully healed then?"
The snorting, snuffling Danuf, however, draws Frarin's glance. The merchant looks towards the ceiling with a look of long suffering. "He's been at that for a half hour at least," he mutters before gesturing for Thari to take a seat.
[Thari(#31038)] "Arm's much better," Thari reports cheerfully. She climbs up into the chair, still favoring her left arm. "The sling did it. My memories--" she is interrupted by a snort by Danuf.
Thari smiles almost fondly. "Old Danuf. I'm amazed he wasn't eaten by a troll!"
Danuf would probably be an excellent meal, all plump and juicy. The dwarf stirs a little, a fly having landed on his nose! That bulbuous, plump protruding wiggles a bit, the dwarf subconciously trying to rid himself of the itching insect. However the little fly persists, eventually driving Danuf to smack at his nose. Perhaps he over-estimated his own strength, or perhaps he just hated that fly.... either way his fist connects with his nose, and the sickening slap is followed by a grunt of pain as the dwarf wakes, "Gargh! Flies!" he cries, sitting up quickly, blinking and shaking his head to clear it of the little birdies.
[Frarin] "He probably ate the troll first," says Frarin, a small smile playing across his lips. He cuts a piece of his roast beef away and downs it up with wedge of slivered potato, still listening to the drunken cook's snores. "Mind you, there are few who can best his roast beef, not even the Prancing Pony." He watches as Danuf slaps himself into wakefulness, then turns his attention back to his own table.
"Well, I'm glad to see you're coming along. Have you eaten yet?" he asks Thari.
[Thari(#31038)] "No, but I've a mind to." Thari leans to one side and tries to catch the attention of a barmaid. "I'm starting to remember things, starting a couple of days ago, but my memories from before that aren't coming back yet. Maybe tomorrow."
Thari catches the barmaid's eye. "Plate of the roast beef, beer!" calls the shorter dwarf.
Danuf grumbles, stretching his thick arms as he gets out of his seat, letting out a little groan as he arches his back, feeling a few bones crackling as the ligements pop. The dwarf shuffles towards the door leading out, grumbling something about the plum duff pudding he ate last night, it seems all that fiber is going where it should go. A little burst of flatulence has the dwarf clutching his rear, picking up the pace as he bolts for the outhouse...
[Frarin] "Give it time," says Frarin quietly, continuing to clear his plate with a solemn diligence. "How much do you remember directly after the battle? There was not much to remember, only our caravan moving as quickly as possible with the wounded and few supplies." A sip of beer and a thought suddenly seems to crop up in Frarin's mind, for he sets the tankard down with a grunt. "Ah, have you heard? High Warder Thorak has departed Bree with a scouting party. Perhaps we might now have some information about where the approaching army stands."
[Thari(#31038)] "Aaaugh, Danuf!" Thari leans away from the passing cook, her face screwed up in disgust, and aims a kick at him after he's gone.
"I remember--" Thari begins, but Frarin suddenly drops his tankard. Her brows lift. "Really? That was bright of him. Should've brought a hobbit with him to spread the word to the rest."
[Frarin] Frarin nods to Thari, but he sits back with a shake of his head and a veiled smile at her suggestion. "A hobbit accompany a dwarf? A company of dwarves? Not likely, much less if it involves going beyond the borders of Bree's beloved hedge. But with any hope, the scouts will return with news, and without the orcs hot on their heels. If even that wretched host would approach so that Bree could see it from a distance, that would do. The defenses are slowly taking shape, but they will be useless if the townsfolk have no warning to decide to man them."
Thari sighs and pulls at her short beard. "I don't mind dying, now, you'd never hear me say that. I've faced death plenty of times. It's the dying on account of stupidity that troubles me. Who'd be singing a song about Thari the Noble, who died in defense of a lot of bull-headed hobbits? Nobody, that's who. Oh, thank you." The barmaid sets down a tankard and a plate, giving Thari a LOOK before walking off. Thari ignores this.
[Frarin] "Yes, stupidity," Frarin repeats, nodding thoughtfully. He pushes his empty plate away from him and digs into his tunic for his pipe. "Stupidity. Yes, that is what I felt for some time, but somehow, not anymore." His voice trails off as his pipe is withdrawn and he stuffs a pinch of pipeweed into the round bowl. A tiny flame flares before the pipe is merrily smoking and its sweet smell is wafting about the table.
"This stupidity, where else can it be found in this world? Certainly not near Erebor, in the wilderness of the east. In the south? Nay, the shadow of orcs and other evil creatures plagues the south as well. Eriador is by no means trouble free, but I am not so troubled to die in defense of this last pocket of stupid innocence. It is a little task, perhaps unworthy of grand songs, but I shall complete it nonetheless."
He takes a deep breath, absently rapping his knuckles upon the table as his pipe puffs up little whisps of smoke. "My only wish," he continues, musing, "is that something could be done to make the prospect of death less absolute. I do not fear it anymore than you, but if I swear myself to defending the ridiculous innocence of this town and its land, I do so in hopes that it might somehow still be saved. But how? Is it still possible? That is what troubles me."
Thari slowly cuts her meat, watching Frarin as he speaks. She nods once or twice in firm agreement.
A bite of beef is brought to her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. She points at Frarin with her knife thoughtfully, "Now I don't know a thing about tactics. Never have. My dear father brought me on these trips and taught me properly, taught me to have the, you know, the lads to do the fighting unless it can't be helped. And then if it can't be helped, to whallop any foe that comes near to me. That's proper. So tactics don't figure much in that and perhaps I should be thinking of them."
Thari takes a drink of her beer and sets the tanker down. "But what else can we do but what we're doing? I can't wait for the scouts to come back!"
[Frarin] Frarin pulls on the stem of his pipe, releasing a cloud of smoke as Thari speaks. Amusement glitters in his dark eyes as he crosses his arms across his chest, one hand gently cradling the pipe. "Tactics are not my forte either," he says after she finishes. "I was speaking with Thane Ovor before we reached Bree about this. I've spent my entire adult life travelling and I have little patience for staying in one place for too long, I would have prefered this town to be emptied instead of waiting for our foes to surround us."
He leans forward, still speaking around the stem of his pipe, the fingers of his right hand outlining the layout of Bree as he speaks. "But that clearly will not happen. Now, the way the town is layed out is somewhat helpful to a seige. Bree-hill, that is the great hill behind the inn here, covers the town's east side and it has a steep drop on the outer side. And behind the hill there is the Chetwood forest, which would inhibit any attack from the east. Those Breelanders that have agreed to help construct defenses are digging a ditch just at the bottom of Bree-hill and using the displaced dirt to create a hill on the eastern side of the ditch. At the bottom of the ditch there will be sharpened stakes. The intent, of course, is to slow any attack from the east. But therein lies our two chief problems."
Leaning back again, Frarin points the stem of his pipe at Thari. "Now try to imagine this from an orc's point of view. First, you would approach at night and without torches, to catch the Breelanders off guard and to give yourself the advantage of darkness. Additionally, this gives no time for Bree to realise their mistake of disbelief, no time to climb to the top of Bree-hill and hurl whatever projectiles they might. With no threat from above, what will keep our enemies from simply walking cautiously around the stakes? Nothing. Second, if the greatest defense is on the east side, what should keep this army from sweeping around Bree? Or worse, from bypassing the town altogether and continuing onto the Shire?"
[Thari(#31038)] "Nothing!" Thari's silverware clank down on her plate in puctuation. "Absolutely nothing. I didn't even think of the darkness business! Rrrg the trolls will have a feast of the wee hobbits!" She picks up her knife again and viciously slices a potato in half. "It'd be better just to go out and try to reduce their numbers before we die, so perhaps the grief would be lessened."
[Frarin] "You see?" says Frarin with a tinge of frustration in his voice. "If only these Breelanders would act!" He lowers his voice as the irritated exclamation brings more curious glances than usual. "But they won't, so it was my thought to do at /something/, if only to feel as if our desperate ride here was not for nothing. But these defenses will be useless unless the orcs approach in broad daylight, which not even those evil beasts are daft enough to do." Slouching in his chair, Frarin shakes his head with a heavy sigh. "March out to meet them? And a grand end we would meet. At least then we might die in the open rather than cowering in this wretched town."
For a time he is silent, only puffing gently on his pipe. Could the silver merchant actually be considering such an end? But no, slowly a light comes into his eyes as if some new thought had descended. "But perhaps you have something there, Thari. If we stay here, grief is certain. If we ride out to meet the orcs head on, grief is certain. Might we try to draw them off though? Give them a reason to deviate from their path?"
Thari releases a little sigh that bows her proud head. Sorrow comes to her eyes a moment before she glances down to hide this. There is a pause as she eats a bite of potato. "Yes. That might be an idea. Perhaps make them chase us?"
[Frarin] "Chase us, yes," nods Frarin, blowing away a smoke ring. "Perhaps make them believe us to be a larger army." He falls silent for a time, as if troubled. His beard bunches up around his throat as he chins sinks in thought. "But what then?" he asks, looking up. "Where would we go? We cannot run forever, even with the stoutest ponies. And orcs will only scare for so long if they see only /signs/ of a larger army rather than the army itself. How to keep them from turning back to Bree? We still need sufficient numbers."
Thari shakes her head. "I don't know. I don't know! Where? To the south there are men, who could perhaps help, but who perhaps we would be giving death. To the north there is nothing. And why would they turn back East?" She tears at her bread.
[Frarin] Frarin's fingers rap repeatedly on the tabletop, eyes darting around the room as he thinks. He leans forward, lifting his beer to his lips and taking only a quick gulp before replacing the tanker. His eyes close suddenly, brows coming together as he speaks. "Very well, let's think of the terrain. To the south there are the South Downs. To the north, the far north, there are the North Downs." The silver merchant's eyes remain shut as he speaks, as if visualising a map of the Breelands. A deep breath and he continues. "Northeast there are more hills, the Weathered Downs or the Weather Downs I think they are called. And before them the Midgewater, a marsh. Midgewater is closest, could we wage war there? Few among our company, myself included, have experience of guerrilla warfare."
[Thari(#31038)] "I don't know," says Thari firmly. She is now eating what remains of her dinner in a businesslike fashion. "I think perhaps the warders would know better. Perhaps the High Warder would be best to consult. Have they considered this, I wonder? I keep thinking, I ought to take the young among us and go somewhere- but where can we go? And then I think it would be best to take the women and children of Bree with me, but then they won't go either! My mind goes in circles, Frarin!"
[Frarin] Frarin's eyes snap open as Thari's words grow more stressed. The intensity leaves his eyes and his faces goes stone still again. "Mine as well," says the silver merchant quietly, with forced calm in his grumbling voice. "But do not lose your composure, Thari, or else you may find yourself stamping in frustrated circles like I did some days ago outside the gate. There can be no fleeing from this. Young or old, we need the entirety of our company's strength for what lays ahead. Gerin will be pleased," he adds, muttering half to himself, though there is the barest hint of approval in his tone.
"We can only wait for the High Warder to return with news. I only muse about the possibilities, but I am not charged with leading this company. Lord Thorak will know better than we two what can be done."
Thari tugs on a hank of her hair that falls before her shoulder, all dark in the shadows. "I only wait to find out what will happen. I know a good many things but I'll be the first to admit that I can offer little counsel here." Her silverware drops to her half-eaten plate which she pushes away to rest against Frarin's empty one. "Surrounded by those that we try to protect, who do not care that we protect them, and who we will probably fail in protecting." Something flashes in her eyes. She amends, "Well, that we may fail in protecting, but probably won't. We are dwarves, after all. We will find something I think, Master Frarin, though I know not what!"
[Frarin] A smile tugs at Frarin's lips as Thari's resolve strengthens. Another blue-grey cloud of smoke roils forth from his mouth before he speaks again. "You are quite right, Thari," he nods grimly. "We are dwarves. Our company held its own against superior numbers and without warning of attack. Even if our fate is to march out and meet these orcs, we will leave an impression that they will greatly regret!" A fist comes down, solidly thumping the tabletop and making the empty plates and cutlery clatter. Faces turn to stare at the dwarves, accompanying by a noticeable elevation in the noise level.
[Frarin] "Do you hear that?" Frarin says, raising his voice so that the eager eavesdroppers don't have to crane so to hear the two dwarves. Indeed, several of the nearest become suddenly fidgety as they realise Frarin is addressing them. "Do you hear? We'll do your dirty work and die for it, so that perhaps there are a fraction fewer orcs when they arrive to burn Bree, but when /we/ go, the stories will not be about those who drolled on only about mad dwarves." Those nearby quiet a bit, but someone suddenly gives a nervous laugh and the crowd quickly bursts into uproarious laughter.
"Well," Frarin says, voice returning to normal level, "at least we need not worry about what stories they will tell of us here. But I am with you, Thari. Together we will meet ends that, even if they do not make it into songs, will most certainly resound among the evil beasts of this world for years to come."
Thari turns smugly to watch the crowd, and they begin to laugh at Frarin's speech. "Frarin!" she cries indignantly. "They're LAUGHIN' at you! Laughing! I'll not have it!" She pushes of of her chair, murder in her eyes. Figuratively. Hopefully.
[Frarin] The silver merchant rises quickly as Thari jumps up, reaching for her shoulder as she glares at the crowd. "Peace, Thari! They have been laughing at us since we arrived. And I have had worse attacks upon my person. Save your anger for the enemy!"
That brings another round of laughter from those gathered around the two dwarves, with several taunting comments rising above the din.
Thari's shoulder heaves beneath Frarin's hand from her agitated breathing. Her fists are bunched up she is glaring. "You! You keep saying that and I'll show you what a dwarf's fists can do!" She calls to a taunting man. "Daft we may be but you can't doubt that I'd make you rue your words!"
[Frarin] This last comment brings a quiet over the nearby observers. Yes, perhaps there are more than a few doubting nothing at all. Several laugh nervously again, but all in all, most decide that the best course of action is to very quickly look away. Suddenly the two dwarves seem /vastly/ devoid of anything interesting. Gradually, the din in the common room returns to its normal level.
Frarin's expression is set as if frozen, a scowl painted onto a dwarven face, unmoving. Only the eyes move, darting all about him and Thari. "Come, Master Thari," says the silver merchant, "let us leave this ridiculous company. I would not make merry at such a time, nor," the scowl deepens, "at another's expense."
Thari takes several deep breaths and slowly calms, her body still tight. She watches the room for a little while, silent. "Yes, I think that's a good idea, Frarin. I'll be taking my meals in my room at this rate." She drops a coin on the table and moves toward the door, head high (for a dwarf).
[Frarin] "Agreed," Frarin grumbles loudly, with a meaningful last glance around the room. Still puffing on his pipe, the silver merchant drops another coin on the table and snatches up his tankard of beer, bearing it away with him as he and Thari head for the inn's rooms. At the departure, the common room is once again bustling with talk. There they go again, the mad dwarves and their phantom army! And threatening Breelanders, hah! Like they could have done anything.
Oh well, some things will never change.
Players: Frarin, Thari, Danuf
Located in: Erebor
