Elendor
Stolen Tater Roast!
Thomas, fleeing an out-raged Gidon, seeks the Breeguard.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Bree
Description: The fall air is cool, but the sun is warm, and the sky is a flawless deep blue. Breehill is a flame of color, and the markets are picking up - an enthusiasm and energy there that hasn't been seen most of the summer. But now it is harvest time, and everyone is excited.
The Breeguard Headquarters' door is standing open, and the guard on duty is not at his desk - rather, he is rocking on his heels in the opening, smoking a pipe.
By the time Thomas has reached the Bree guard, he has calmed down, except for the fact that he is visibly out of breath. "Uh...." he says, hesitating as he sees the man in the doorway. "You a guard?"
Some folk are just excited that the day is coming to an end and it's nearly dinnertime. The broad, red-faced guard known as Ernie is trolling along the street fanning himself with his hand, and breathing rather heavily. Even before he reaches the doorway he raises a hand to wave to his colleague and call, "Last of the wagons is in now. Time for a pi-" He stops, blinking at Thomas. "What is it, lad?" he asks with an I'd-rather-not-know expression.
The guard puffs himself up. "Course I am! See the uniform?" Proudly, he waves a hand at himself, pats an extremely shiny sword hanging from his side, and grins at Ernie. "Lo, Ern! Most quitting time, isn't it? Have a drop with me down at the Pony?"
"Now, what do you need with the Breeguard, son? Someone stole your chickens?"
"Guard, yes," Thomas says in between gasping for air and looking fromone man to the next. "I...no not chickens! Potatoes! and stabbed! and fire!" He bursts out in a sudden renewal of energy.
Ernie beams at his friend, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Barliman's brew's allus the business after a day's honest work," he answers enthusiastically, gaze shifting laconically to Thomas. "Happen I've seen you someplace else?" he wonders, brows creasing in almost childlike fashion.
At the gasping he turns from fanning himself to fanning Thomas. "Take't easy, young'un, no sense in havin' a seizure. Now, where's this fire o' your'n?"
"Potatoes?" Willie says blankly. "Someone stabbed your potatoes and put them in the fire?" He grins widely at Ernie. "Sounds like a tater roast to me! Just needs sausages!"
"Nooooo...!" Thomas says in a voice that falls off to a whine. "Someone stabbed me!! me!! And now they're after me! The fire...fire's out...the farm.." he points vaguely thataway. "Back in Combe...I mean...and they stabbed me and burned down the barn and stole potatoes. Only I know who done it and now that ...he's after me."
Ernie breaks out in a great guffaw at Willie's words. Alas, half of Bree might burn down before this pair get round to doing anything about it.
At Thomas's frantic claims he at first looks concerned - stabbings? blood? /Here/? - but then scratches his head. "Heard summat about missin' taters," he said slowly. "Pinewick's, that was. Rest of your'n 'ere tale ain't makin' much sense. Iffen ye're hurt, ought'n we take you up to t'healer's?" He looks annoyed but resigned - that pint can wait. He is, after all, doing a Good Deed.
"Somebody stabbed you?" Willie asks. "Where at?" His face wrinkles up into a frown. "Yeah," he adds. "Ought t'go to the healers. Come on the, laddie. We'll get you fixed up."
He nods. "Them bandits, done that, out to Pinewick's. Heard about that."
"I'm fixed up!" Thomas protests, then lifts his tunic to turn around and show both men the healing stab wound on his back. "The Pinewicks fixed me. First they thought I'd done it, but I hadn't! It was....that man...the stranger. Brev."
Ernie stares aghast at the wound on Thomas' back. The sight of the ugly scar seems to get through to him where the earlier words hadn't slowly he says, "That was nae accident. Yer a brave, brave laddie." He swallows hard, then after a pause, adds, "Ye can put 't away now." Perhaps he's not overfond of the sight of blood.
"An it was yon thievin' stranger as did it, eh? Willie," he looks at his friend and sighs, "reckon we got t'fill out some forms." He tries to shepherd Thomas into the building (even if Willie's still standing there).
Willie is standing in the door gaping at Thomas, and he doesn't come to his senses until the boy is being practically shoved right into him. "Oh. Oh, right. Paperwork." As he turns away, he mutters, "I hate paperwork..." With a gusty sigh, he pulls out his chair - it squeals across the wooden floor - and sits down in it. "Eh - Ern - you do the papers? I'll buy you an extra beer."
"Paper! I don't want to do writing!" Thomas protests again, dropping his tunic back down to try to grab at the doorposts and -not- be shoved inside. "There's Brev! I mean, he's a criminal. Him and the other fellows with him. They burned the barn, stole potatoes and did this to me when I tried to stop him! ANd now Gidon--he says he'll do more to me if I see to it that Brev's catched! But...he burned their barn! Where they going to put their animals or seed for next year? I mean, they're in bad shape now and it's all cause of some stupid potatoe thieves! And Brev and now Giddon!"
"And you want to push some papers around?"
Ernie's eyes light up at the mention of beer, and hastily he comes round to the side of the desk and starts riffling through the drawer. "Lessee - robbery, assault'n'battery, Wanted Man - haven' had one o'em fer /years/." He sounds quite gleeful.
Thomas's flappings make him aware that the lad hasn't after all, come inside. He looks up, surprised. "Iffen' ye want t'Breeguard t'catch 'im, need details, see?" he explains. "Likes a-" He pauses in mid word, one meaty hand scratching at the bald spot on his head. "Wait. Ye knows where that 'ere criminal /is/?" Oho, there could be a promotion for this ...
Willie is off the chair as soon as Ernie comes around the desk. And he doesn't look nearly as excited by the papers as the other guard. "We got to," he says to the boy. "We writes it up, see, and we posts it over yon," he nods towards the wall across from the door, "And everybody what comes in knows just who they's looking for and for what. And then, we all ... " His head snaps back around. "You know where they are? Them bandits?"
"No...no, I do not. But Gidon does!" Thomas says, enticed to finally come in by the men's interest in capturing the actual bandits. "And...and I'll help! Make me a guard! He won't dare threaten me if I'm a guard!" he boasts.
Ernie, his first form already in his sweating hand, frowns at Thomas' first words. "Gidon who? And d'ye have proof o' all this 'ere .. banditin'?" he eventually settles on. "Can't arrest 'im without we 'as proof." The Breeguard comment receives no answer as yet no doubt he's still processing it, for his round face looks unwontedly thoughtful.
"Ah," Willie says, putting a finger to his chin. "Well, now." He gives Ernie a sly look. "You're a bit young, now, but... well... happens if you was to show us where these here bandits are, we could maybe put in a word for you. Reckon we could use some Trainee Guards! Don't you think so, Ern? If we was to catch them?"
"I can't show you--Gidon can show you! The boy...the one's that's always avoiding folk, being off by himself and..." Thomas stutters, frustrated. "What more proof do you need--I SAW them do it. I tried to stop them! I can describe them..well, the two. Brev and the one that hit me on the back of my head. They attacked me. Hit me and stabbed me and then Brev--he had the nerve to say he was sorry! What other proof you need?! You think the cows burned that farm themselves?"
At that look of Willie's, Ernie's thoughtful expression suddenly clears. "Right, that," he says decisively. "Why, we was sayin' jist t'other day-" He breaks off sheepishly. Unpaid General Dogsbody was doubtless not quite what Thomas had in mind.
He lets Thomas' torrent of excited speech flow over him, and then holds up his free hand. "'Nough o' the flappin'," he states authoritatively. "Breeguard allus thinks 'fore 'e acts - right, Willie?" Now it's his turn for a meaningful look. "Seems t'me there's two ways t'go 'bout this. We can 'rest this 'ere Gidon now, iffen ye 'as proof e's a robber. Else .. we lets 'm stay loose. Only - ye follers 'im, finds out where rest 'f 'em's hid." He waits for tumultuous applause for his newly thought up plan.
"You could still be a trainee," Willie says hopefully.
"Right, ok, you describe them two. And then what Ern said."
"A trainee?" Thomas, oblivious to the go-fer connotations, beams. "I...I got me grandad's old leather armor and helmet!" Likely 5 sizes too big for the 14 year old, but he is all puffed up with pride.
"Let's see...the one, he's big and dark haired and he's got a really mean sounding voice and an ugly face. And Brev...well, he's a stranger to these parts and he's got...uh..." He says, giving halfway credible descriptions of both men.
Ernie looks at the skinny Thomas, then down at his own ample midriff, covered by his nice smart /non-armoured/ jerkin. "Right, then ye'll be all set up," he says with false heartiness.
At the description of the bandits he grabs a quill from the desk and, after a brief struggle with the stopper of the inkbottle, begins to scribble furiously on the sheet of paper he holds. When Thomas pauses, so does he, pen in air. "He's got," he repeats encouragingly, then suggests, "red 'air mebbe?"
Willie nods approvingly. "That's right," he says, encouragingly. "That's right. You just say it all. Ernie here'll get it all down. Then you can go get yer granda's helmet," he falters a second, and covers it with a cough. "Helmet and armor..."
"Red?" Thomas looks puzzled. "No...no, curly hair, like mine but darker..and his skin's darker and he has a beard of sorts. I'll get my grandpa's armor, yes!" he nods enthusiastically. "And then I'm going to follow Gidon around," he huffs. He's already hurrying out the door when he turns to call back to the two men: "I'm a guard now??!"
Ernie's pen has run away with him. Sadly he crosses out the descriptive-sounding 'red hair and wild staring eyes' and starts scribbling away again, nodding and muttering. He looks up just in time to hear Thomas' question. "Mornin'," he says firmly. "Ye starts in t'mornin'." There is, after all, a beer or six to be had first ... "Willie, happen there's two sets o' forms 'ere. 'At's two drinks."
"Trainee," Willie says, equally firmly. "Trainee Thomas.... er. That sound all right, Ern?" He waves off the other guard's demand. "Sure, sure. Two. Worth it at double the price. I hates forms. Don't read none too well, and it takes me all day and another just to figure out what they wants." He sounds rather proud of this fact.
"Trainee! Yes sir!" Thomas says, hurrying off with "we're going to catch us some bandits!" And, possibly with the thought in his mind of 'what do they do with all those forms anyhow?' he runs off.
The Breeguard Headquarters' door is standing open, and the guard on duty is not at his desk - rather, he is rocking on his heels in the opening, smoking a pipe.
By the time Thomas has reached the Bree guard, he has calmed down, except for the fact that he is visibly out of breath. "Uh...." he says, hesitating as he sees the man in the doorway. "You a guard?"
Some folk are just excited that the day is coming to an end and it's nearly dinnertime. The broad, red-faced guard known as Ernie is trolling along the street fanning himself with his hand, and breathing rather heavily. Even before he reaches the doorway he raises a hand to wave to his colleague and call, "Last of the wagons is in now. Time for a pi-" He stops, blinking at Thomas. "What is it, lad?" he asks with an I'd-rather-not-know expression.
The guard puffs himself up. "Course I am! See the uniform?" Proudly, he waves a hand at himself, pats an extremely shiny sword hanging from his side, and grins at Ernie. "Lo, Ern! Most quitting time, isn't it? Have a drop with me down at the Pony?"
"Now, what do you need with the Breeguard, son? Someone stole your chickens?"
"Guard, yes," Thomas says in between gasping for air and looking fromone man to the next. "I...no not chickens! Potatoes! and stabbed! and fire!" He bursts out in a sudden renewal of energy.
Ernie beams at his friend, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Barliman's brew's allus the business after a day's honest work," he answers enthusiastically, gaze shifting laconically to Thomas. "Happen I've seen you someplace else?" he wonders, brows creasing in almost childlike fashion.
At the gasping he turns from fanning himself to fanning Thomas. "Take't easy, young'un, no sense in havin' a seizure. Now, where's this fire o' your'n?"
"Potatoes?" Willie says blankly. "Someone stabbed your potatoes and put them in the fire?" He grins widely at Ernie. "Sounds like a tater roast to me! Just needs sausages!"
"Nooooo...!" Thomas says in a voice that falls off to a whine. "Someone stabbed me!! me!! And now they're after me! The fire...fire's out...the farm.." he points vaguely thataway. "Back in Combe...I mean...and they stabbed me and burned down the barn and stole potatoes. Only I know who done it and now that ...he's after me."
Ernie breaks out in a great guffaw at Willie's words. Alas, half of Bree might burn down before this pair get round to doing anything about it.
At Thomas's frantic claims he at first looks concerned - stabbings? blood? /Here/? - but then scratches his head. "Heard summat about missin' taters," he said slowly. "Pinewick's, that was. Rest of your'n 'ere tale ain't makin' much sense. Iffen ye're hurt, ought'n we take you up to t'healer's?" He looks annoyed but resigned - that pint can wait. He is, after all, doing a Good Deed.
"Somebody stabbed you?" Willie asks. "Where at?" His face wrinkles up into a frown. "Yeah," he adds. "Ought t'go to the healers. Come on the, laddie. We'll get you fixed up."
He nods. "Them bandits, done that, out to Pinewick's. Heard about that."
"I'm fixed up!" Thomas protests, then lifts his tunic to turn around and show both men the healing stab wound on his back. "The Pinewicks fixed me. First they thought I'd done it, but I hadn't! It was....that man...the stranger. Brev."
Ernie stares aghast at the wound on Thomas' back. The sight of the ugly scar seems to get through to him where the earlier words hadn't slowly he says, "That was nae accident. Yer a brave, brave laddie." He swallows hard, then after a pause, adds, "Ye can put 't away now." Perhaps he's not overfond of the sight of blood.
"An it was yon thievin' stranger as did it, eh? Willie," he looks at his friend and sighs, "reckon we got t'fill out some forms." He tries to shepherd Thomas into the building (even if Willie's still standing there).
Willie is standing in the door gaping at Thomas, and he doesn't come to his senses until the boy is being practically shoved right into him. "Oh. Oh, right. Paperwork." As he turns away, he mutters, "I hate paperwork..." With a gusty sigh, he pulls out his chair - it squeals across the wooden floor - and sits down in it. "Eh - Ern - you do the papers? I'll buy you an extra beer."
"Paper! I don't want to do writing!" Thomas protests again, dropping his tunic back down to try to grab at the doorposts and -not- be shoved inside. "There's Brev! I mean, he's a criminal. Him and the other fellows with him. They burned the barn, stole potatoes and did this to me when I tried to stop him! ANd now Gidon--he says he'll do more to me if I see to it that Brev's catched! But...he burned their barn! Where they going to put their animals or seed for next year? I mean, they're in bad shape now and it's all cause of some stupid potatoe thieves! And Brev and now Giddon!"
"And you want to push some papers around?"
Ernie's eyes light up at the mention of beer, and hastily he comes round to the side of the desk and starts riffling through the drawer. "Lessee - robbery, assault'n'battery, Wanted Man - haven' had one o'em fer /years/." He sounds quite gleeful.
Thomas's flappings make him aware that the lad hasn't after all, come inside. He looks up, surprised. "Iffen' ye want t'Breeguard t'catch 'im, need details, see?" he explains. "Likes a-" He pauses in mid word, one meaty hand scratching at the bald spot on his head. "Wait. Ye knows where that 'ere criminal /is/?" Oho, there could be a promotion for this ...
Willie is off the chair as soon as Ernie comes around the desk. And he doesn't look nearly as excited by the papers as the other guard. "We got to," he says to the boy. "We writes it up, see, and we posts it over yon," he nods towards the wall across from the door, "And everybody what comes in knows just who they's looking for and for what. And then, we all ... " His head snaps back around. "You know where they are? Them bandits?"
"No...no, I do not. But Gidon does!" Thomas says, enticed to finally come in by the men's interest in capturing the actual bandits. "And...and I'll help! Make me a guard! He won't dare threaten me if I'm a guard!" he boasts.
Ernie, his first form already in his sweating hand, frowns at Thomas' first words. "Gidon who? And d'ye have proof o' all this 'ere .. banditin'?" he eventually settles on. "Can't arrest 'im without we 'as proof." The Breeguard comment receives no answer as yet no doubt he's still processing it, for his round face looks unwontedly thoughtful.
"Ah," Willie says, putting a finger to his chin. "Well, now." He gives Ernie a sly look. "You're a bit young, now, but... well... happens if you was to show us where these here bandits are, we could maybe put in a word for you. Reckon we could use some Trainee Guards! Don't you think so, Ern? If we was to catch them?"
"I can't show you--Gidon can show you! The boy...the one's that's always avoiding folk, being off by himself and..." Thomas stutters, frustrated. "What more proof do you need--I SAW them do it. I tried to stop them! I can describe them..well, the two. Brev and the one that hit me on the back of my head. They attacked me. Hit me and stabbed me and then Brev--he had the nerve to say he was sorry! What other proof you need?! You think the cows burned that farm themselves?"
At that look of Willie's, Ernie's thoughtful expression suddenly clears. "Right, that," he says decisively. "Why, we was sayin' jist t'other day-" He breaks off sheepishly. Unpaid General Dogsbody was doubtless not quite what Thomas had in mind.
He lets Thomas' torrent of excited speech flow over him, and then holds up his free hand. "'Nough o' the flappin'," he states authoritatively. "Breeguard allus thinks 'fore 'e acts - right, Willie?" Now it's his turn for a meaningful look. "Seems t'me there's two ways t'go 'bout this. We can 'rest this 'ere Gidon now, iffen ye 'as proof e's a robber. Else .. we lets 'm stay loose. Only - ye follers 'im, finds out where rest 'f 'em's hid." He waits for tumultuous applause for his newly thought up plan.
"You could still be a trainee," Willie says hopefully.
"Right, ok, you describe them two. And then what Ern said."
"A trainee?" Thomas, oblivious to the go-fer connotations, beams. "I...I got me grandad's old leather armor and helmet!" Likely 5 sizes too big for the 14 year old, but he is all puffed up with pride.
"Let's see...the one, he's big and dark haired and he's got a really mean sounding voice and an ugly face. And Brev...well, he's a stranger to these parts and he's got...uh..." He says, giving halfway credible descriptions of both men.
Ernie looks at the skinny Thomas, then down at his own ample midriff, covered by his nice smart /non-armoured/ jerkin. "Right, then ye'll be all set up," he says with false heartiness.
At the description of the bandits he grabs a quill from the desk and, after a brief struggle with the stopper of the inkbottle, begins to scribble furiously on the sheet of paper he holds. When Thomas pauses, so does he, pen in air. "He's got," he repeats encouragingly, then suggests, "red 'air mebbe?"
Willie nods approvingly. "That's right," he says, encouragingly. "That's right. You just say it all. Ernie here'll get it all down. Then you can go get yer granda's helmet," he falters a second, and covers it with a cough. "Helmet and armor..."
"Red?" Thomas looks puzzled. "No...no, curly hair, like mine but darker..and his skin's darker and he has a beard of sorts. I'll get my grandpa's armor, yes!" he nods enthusiastically. "And then I'm going to follow Gidon around," he huffs. He's already hurrying out the door when he turns to call back to the two men: "I'm a guard now??!"
Ernie's pen has run away with him. Sadly he crosses out the descriptive-sounding 'red hair and wild staring eyes' and starts scribbling away again, nodding and muttering. He looks up just in time to hear Thomas' question. "Mornin'," he says firmly. "Ye starts in t'mornin'." There is, after all, a beer or six to be had first ... "Willie, happen there's two sets o' forms 'ere. 'At's two drinks."
"Trainee," Willie says, equally firmly. "Trainee Thomas.... er. That sound all right, Ern?" He waves off the other guard's demand. "Sure, sure. Two. Worth it at double the price. I hates forms. Don't read none too well, and it takes me all day and another just to figure out what they wants." He sounds rather proud of this fact.
"Trainee! Yes sir!" Thomas says, hurrying off with "we're going to catch us some bandits!" And, possibly with the thought in his mind of 'what do they do with all those forms anyhow?' he runs off.
Located in: Breefolk
