Elendor
Smoothing things over
Boldibad and Torebras decide to overlook their little disagreement ... for now.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Shire: Budge Ford
Game Date: Solmath (February) 6, 1450 S.R. (3050)
IC Time: Evening
Weather: Cold
Description: Budge Ford
A small hobbit settlement with half a dozen houses. A narrow plank bridge crosses The Water. The bridge looks a little unsafe if the stream is low, you can also cross at the old ford, which gave the town its name. Smoke rises from the many chimneys of the Bolger Smial. The pudgy young hobbit lad on his porch is bundled up in heavy winter clothes.
Obvious exits:
Bolger Smial leads to Bolger Smial.
Fife Hall leads to Fife Hall.
North leads to Scary.
South leads to Village of Whitfurrows.
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Fri Jun 04 23:30:03 2010 (+time).
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IC Time is 06:30:09 on Sunday, Solmath (February) 6, 1450 S.R.
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IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
Clouds fill the sky, making the temperature even lower than average. The sky is dark, the clouds holding a silent threat of rain to come. The sky is veiled in cloud, hiding any trace of the moon.
===============================================================================
[Boldibad(#22742)] The sun has just recently dipped below the horizon, and the town of Budge Ford is beginning to look emptier by the hour. The wind seems to have died down, but there is an added chill to the air with the coming of night. The round door of Bolger Smial opens and Boldibad steps outside, beginning a search around the doorstep.
Is it chance that brings Torebras Bywater trotting along the path? He does not look in Boldibad's direction - except that where could he be going other than Budge Ford? Scary is hardly a tourist destination.
The darkened sky is chill - it looks as though it might snow at any moment - and Torebras is prepared for that. A dark green muffler is wrapped around his lower jaw and neck and tucked neatly into the collar of his charcoal grey greatcoat this does a nice job of hiding his expression.
Boldibad finds the pouch of pipeweed he was looking for and makes ready to go back inside, but notices Torebras going up the road as he takes one last glance at the town. He steps out again and waves his arm, "Hello! Mr. Bywater! Torebras! Over here!"
Torebras starts at the hail, and turns his mufflered head in Boldibad's direction. "Ah, good evening, Mister Bolger," he says after a significant pause, managing a stiff bow beneath his layers. "I trust you are well?" It's all painfully formal.
Boldibad stiffens up as Torebras approaches, almost as though -he- were the one who called -him-. He clears his throat awkwardly, and looks over toward the bridge of Budge Ford, idly. "I am, yes... despite a snowball attack by those Proudfoot children a few hours ago." He chuckles shortly.
"Really?" A sound that might almost be a laugh but is turned hastily into a cough comes from Torebras. "I can't say I've seen them. You know, Oatbarton seems quite a charming place. Very rustic." He shoots Boldibad a quick glance to see how the praise of 'Proudfoot lands' is taken.
Boldibad grins, "That sounds about right." He sighs and loosens up a little bit. "Won't you come in, Mr. Bywater? It's awfully cold out here--and late." He steps aside, allowing entrance into the warm smial.
It /is/ awfully cold. Torebras is fidgeting so as not to have either furry foot on the ground for too long at any one time. He hesitates. "I should really be getting back, you know - unless there was something you wished to say to me, Mister Bolger?" He's not going to make things easy.
Boldibad glares at Torebras, "Well, as a matter of fact, I do have something to say. But, er, in the Shire, we..." he snaps his fingers, "We don't have discussions until after the guest has been invited in!" He yawns, "I suppose you'll be staying the night... might as well talk while the help readies the other guest room--the usual one is occupied, I'm afraid."
Torebras blinks at that. "I wouldn't presume on your hospitality," is his response. "'m quite capable of finding my own way back to Whitfurrows, you know." Even if it is a long, dark road. "And I'm aware we did not part on the best of terms. Perhaps, if you're tired, an appointment to discuss whatever is weighing on your mind might be better?" He sticks his gloved hands in his greatcoat pockets, looking quite miserable now that he's not keeping himself warm through walking.
Boldibad crosses his arms his lifts up his nose at Torebras' response. "Have it your way," he says. "Would you at least like a lantern?" he asks, his voice thick with scorn.
"I .. ah, I should ..." Torebras starts patting at his pockets, looking rather uncomfortable. Clearly he does not have a lantern, collapsable or otherwise, on his person. "If you're offering to sell one, that would be most opportune, Mister Bolger. I .. ah, seem to have mislaid mine." After a brief hesitation he adds, "Of course, I have no wish to put you to any trouble. If it's an inconvenience, there are a few farm-smials along the road - I could ask there."
Boldibad shakes his head. "Torebras... I know," he begins awkwardly, "I know that it wasn't YOUR fault that things went bad at the... well," he rubs the back of his neck in agitation. "I'll go get the lantern," he says after a moment's hesitation, and disappears behind the door.
Boldibad returns shortly with a small lantern.
Leaving Torebras to stare after him, open-mouthed. When Boldibad returns, Torebras has gathered his wits somewhat. "Shall we let bygones be bygones, then, Mister Bolger?" he enquires - still a little stiffly, but at least he's offering. "I expect we were both a little flustered by .. events." He clears his throat, and says no more of it. "Now - how much do I owe you for the lantern?" he asks in a slightly friendlier tone, pulling out his purse.
Boldibad puts his hands on his hips with the lantern handle still in his grip. "Now I have to go all the way back to the cellar to return this silly lantern. Sounds good to me, Torebras old boy! At least now I--er, my mother, won't be worrying about you collapsing in a ditch from too much cold on your way back. Come inside, and I'll have that room set up for you." He steps aside once again, a look of expectation on his face.
Torebras, by contrast, looks confused. "But I - ah, I truly don't want to put you to any inconvenience," he protests. "You did say you had some other guests staying. It just wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to create more work for you." He hovers on the doorstep uncertainly.
Boldibad holds up his hands, "No trouble at all, Mr. Bywater. We are used to guests at Bolger Smial, it's just that--we won't be able to put you in the room you are used to. You see, Ms... I believe it was Willemina, Willemina Took. She came along only a few hours ago--quite a tall lady! And, as we sat out here and conversed, those terrible Proudfoot children started throwing snowballs at us. Can you believe it? It's unthinkable--to do such a thing to your neighbor's guest!" He looks at the ground and shudders, going over it all in his head again. "Anyhow, she was out hunting coneys, of all things for a lady to be doing, and was on her way up to the North-Took residence. Of course, that's still several hours off, so I offered her your favorite room in Bolger Smial, as I certainly wasn't--" he hesitates and glances away, "--wasn't expecting you."
Torebras blinks as he listens to Boldibad's rambling explanation, nodding and tut-tutting in all the expected places. "Hunting coneys?" he repeats, shaking his head. "I /had/ heard the Tooks had their little eccentricities." He coughs and belatedly remembers to lower his voice, just in case the guest should be listening. "And how gallant of you to offer her a room, Mister Bolger. Very gentlemanly of you." His chin dips in a nod of approval.
"Well, if you're sure its no trouble ..." Slowly (his toes are going numb from standing still in the freezing cold) he moves into the pool of warmth in the entrance of the smial.
Boldibad notices Torebras taking the precaution of lowering his voice, and glances covertly over his shoulder. "You know, the tunnels of the Smial go deep, but some hobbits don't sleep as soundly as others... she might have gotten up for a glass of milk. I should have been quieter about it." He then chuckles a bit, folding his arms across his chest, vapor puffing from his nostrils. "Well, any North-farthing gentlehobbit would do the same, Mr. Bywater. It's in our blood, y'see." He pats Torebras roughly on the back, unexpectedly, as he turns and follows him into the smial. "Glad you're back, Mr. Torebras. You know, I was thinking... you should consider staying here permanently. We all love to have you around, and--where is it you are staying now, anyhow? It can't be any worse than Bolger Smial!"
Boldibad clears his throat, "Pardon me--I meant 'better than Bolger Smial.'"
Torebras looks most surprised at this invitation (and consequently fails to notice the little faux-pas). "I have a little house in Buckland, in Newbury - it's quite charming, you must come and visit sometime! I find this Buckland custom of building houses very interesting, the hobbits of Bree have nothing similar despite sharing our hometown with Big Folk. Anyway, as I was saying ... what was I saying?" He flushes slightly - or perhaps it's just the heat of the smial, now that he is indoors and unwinding his muffler. "Ah yes. Whilst visiting the Northfarthing I have been staying mainly in Inns, gives me a chance to get out and see the countryside, you know. But not quite the same as home. It's good to know I can count on your hospitality, Mister Bolger, and I trust you won't hesitate to partake of mine whenever you are in Buckland."
Boldibad nods, "Well, that sounds good--I was under the impression you were staying with someone." He clears his throat, once again, and looks around. "Well! I'll get the guest room set up for you then!"
"Most kind, most kind, Mister Bolger," Torebras replies, a gleam of sudden interest creeping into his eye at the suggestion he might have been staying with someone. More family rivalry to explore? He says nothing of it though, divesting himself of his outer garments as Boldibad goes to get the room ready.
And thus relations are mended and harmony restored ... at least for the moment.
A small hobbit settlement with half a dozen houses. A narrow plank bridge crosses The Water. The bridge looks a little unsafe if the stream is low, you can also cross at the old ford, which gave the town its name. Smoke rises from the many chimneys of the Bolger Smial. The pudgy young hobbit lad on his porch is bundled up in heavy winter clothes.
Obvious exits:
Bolger Smial leads to Bolger Smial.
Fife Hall leads to Fife Hall.
North leads to Scary.
South leads to Village of Whitfurrows.
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Fri Jun 04 23:30:03 2010 (+time).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 06:30:09 on Sunday, Solmath (February) 6, 1450 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
Clouds fill the sky, making the temperature even lower than average. The sky is dark, the clouds holding a silent threat of rain to come. The sky is veiled in cloud, hiding any trace of the moon.
===============================================================================
[Boldibad(#22742)] The sun has just recently dipped below the horizon, and the town of Budge Ford is beginning to look emptier by the hour. The wind seems to have died down, but there is an added chill to the air with the coming of night. The round door of Bolger Smial opens and Boldibad steps outside, beginning a search around the doorstep.
Is it chance that brings Torebras Bywater trotting along the path? He does not look in Boldibad's direction - except that where could he be going other than Budge Ford? Scary is hardly a tourist destination.
The darkened sky is chill - it looks as though it might snow at any moment - and Torebras is prepared for that. A dark green muffler is wrapped around his lower jaw and neck and tucked neatly into the collar of his charcoal grey greatcoat this does a nice job of hiding his expression.
Boldibad finds the pouch of pipeweed he was looking for and makes ready to go back inside, but notices Torebras going up the road as he takes one last glance at the town. He steps out again and waves his arm, "Hello! Mr. Bywater! Torebras! Over here!"
Torebras starts at the hail, and turns his mufflered head in Boldibad's direction. "Ah, good evening, Mister Bolger," he says after a significant pause, managing a stiff bow beneath his layers. "I trust you are well?" It's all painfully formal.
Boldibad stiffens up as Torebras approaches, almost as though -he- were the one who called -him-. He clears his throat awkwardly, and looks over toward the bridge of Budge Ford, idly. "I am, yes... despite a snowball attack by those Proudfoot children a few hours ago." He chuckles shortly.
"Really?" A sound that might almost be a laugh but is turned hastily into a cough comes from Torebras. "I can't say I've seen them. You know, Oatbarton seems quite a charming place. Very rustic." He shoots Boldibad a quick glance to see how the praise of 'Proudfoot lands' is taken.
Boldibad grins, "That sounds about right." He sighs and loosens up a little bit. "Won't you come in, Mr. Bywater? It's awfully cold out here--and late." He steps aside, allowing entrance into the warm smial.
It /is/ awfully cold. Torebras is fidgeting so as not to have either furry foot on the ground for too long at any one time. He hesitates. "I should really be getting back, you know - unless there was something you wished to say to me, Mister Bolger?" He's not going to make things easy.
Boldibad glares at Torebras, "Well, as a matter of fact, I do have something to say. But, er, in the Shire, we..." he snaps his fingers, "We don't have discussions until after the guest has been invited in!" He yawns, "I suppose you'll be staying the night... might as well talk while the help readies the other guest room--the usual one is occupied, I'm afraid."
Torebras blinks at that. "I wouldn't presume on your hospitality," is his response. "'m quite capable of finding my own way back to Whitfurrows, you know." Even if it is a long, dark road. "And I'm aware we did not part on the best of terms. Perhaps, if you're tired, an appointment to discuss whatever is weighing on your mind might be better?" He sticks his gloved hands in his greatcoat pockets, looking quite miserable now that he's not keeping himself warm through walking.
Boldibad crosses his arms his lifts up his nose at Torebras' response. "Have it your way," he says. "Would you at least like a lantern?" he asks, his voice thick with scorn.
"I .. ah, I should ..." Torebras starts patting at his pockets, looking rather uncomfortable. Clearly he does not have a lantern, collapsable or otherwise, on his person. "If you're offering to sell one, that would be most opportune, Mister Bolger. I .. ah, seem to have mislaid mine." After a brief hesitation he adds, "Of course, I have no wish to put you to any trouble. If it's an inconvenience, there are a few farm-smials along the road - I could ask there."
Boldibad shakes his head. "Torebras... I know," he begins awkwardly, "I know that it wasn't YOUR fault that things went bad at the... well," he rubs the back of his neck in agitation. "I'll go get the lantern," he says after a moment's hesitation, and disappears behind the door.
Boldibad returns shortly with a small lantern.
Leaving Torebras to stare after him, open-mouthed. When Boldibad returns, Torebras has gathered his wits somewhat. "Shall we let bygones be bygones, then, Mister Bolger?" he enquires - still a little stiffly, but at least he's offering. "I expect we were both a little flustered by .. events." He clears his throat, and says no more of it. "Now - how much do I owe you for the lantern?" he asks in a slightly friendlier tone, pulling out his purse.
Boldibad puts his hands on his hips with the lantern handle still in his grip. "Now I have to go all the way back to the cellar to return this silly lantern. Sounds good to me, Torebras old boy! At least now I--er, my mother, won't be worrying about you collapsing in a ditch from too much cold on your way back. Come inside, and I'll have that room set up for you." He steps aside once again, a look of expectation on his face.
Torebras, by contrast, looks confused. "But I - ah, I truly don't want to put you to any inconvenience," he protests. "You did say you had some other guests staying. It just wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to create more work for you." He hovers on the doorstep uncertainly.
Boldibad holds up his hands, "No trouble at all, Mr. Bywater. We are used to guests at Bolger Smial, it's just that--we won't be able to put you in the room you are used to. You see, Ms... I believe it was Willemina, Willemina Took. She came along only a few hours ago--quite a tall lady! And, as we sat out here and conversed, those terrible Proudfoot children started throwing snowballs at us. Can you believe it? It's unthinkable--to do such a thing to your neighbor's guest!" He looks at the ground and shudders, going over it all in his head again. "Anyhow, she was out hunting coneys, of all things for a lady to be doing, and was on her way up to the North-Took residence. Of course, that's still several hours off, so I offered her your favorite room in Bolger Smial, as I certainly wasn't--" he hesitates and glances away, "--wasn't expecting you."
Torebras blinks as he listens to Boldibad's rambling explanation, nodding and tut-tutting in all the expected places. "Hunting coneys?" he repeats, shaking his head. "I /had/ heard the Tooks had their little eccentricities." He coughs and belatedly remembers to lower his voice, just in case the guest should be listening. "And how gallant of you to offer her a room, Mister Bolger. Very gentlemanly of you." His chin dips in a nod of approval.
"Well, if you're sure its no trouble ..." Slowly (his toes are going numb from standing still in the freezing cold) he moves into the pool of warmth in the entrance of the smial.
Boldibad notices Torebras taking the precaution of lowering his voice, and glances covertly over his shoulder. "You know, the tunnels of the Smial go deep, but some hobbits don't sleep as soundly as others... she might have gotten up for a glass of milk. I should have been quieter about it." He then chuckles a bit, folding his arms across his chest, vapor puffing from his nostrils. "Well, any North-farthing gentlehobbit would do the same, Mr. Bywater. It's in our blood, y'see." He pats Torebras roughly on the back, unexpectedly, as he turns and follows him into the smial. "Glad you're back, Mr. Torebras. You know, I was thinking... you should consider staying here permanently. We all love to have you around, and--where is it you are staying now, anyhow? It can't be any worse than Bolger Smial!"
Boldibad clears his throat, "Pardon me--I meant 'better than Bolger Smial.'"
Torebras looks most surprised at this invitation (and consequently fails to notice the little faux-pas). "I have a little house in Buckland, in Newbury - it's quite charming, you must come and visit sometime! I find this Buckland custom of building houses very interesting, the hobbits of Bree have nothing similar despite sharing our hometown with Big Folk. Anyway, as I was saying ... what was I saying?" He flushes slightly - or perhaps it's just the heat of the smial, now that he is indoors and unwinding his muffler. "Ah yes. Whilst visiting the Northfarthing I have been staying mainly in Inns, gives me a chance to get out and see the countryside, you know. But not quite the same as home. It's good to know I can count on your hospitality, Mister Bolger, and I trust you won't hesitate to partake of mine whenever you are in Buckland."
Boldibad nods, "Well, that sounds good--I was under the impression you were staying with someone." He clears his throat, once again, and looks around. "Well! I'll get the guest room set up for you then!"
"Most kind, most kind, Mister Bolger," Torebras replies, a gleam of sudden interest creeping into his eye at the suggestion he might have been staying with someone. More family rivalry to explore? He says nothing of it though, divesting himself of his outer garments as Boldibad goes to get the room ready.
And thus relations are mended and harmony restored ... at least for the moment.
Players: Boldibad, Torebras
Located in: Shirefolk
