Elendor
Dogs and cold fish
Boldibad is fishing in the middle of winter, in the middle of the night. Oh well, everyone knows the Bolgers are a little odd... Ferdan's (Nob) dogs get loose and run toward him.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Budge Ford, Shire
Game Date: Afteryule 24, 1450 S.R.
IC Time: 10:30pm
Weather: Cold and overcast
Description:
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Mon May 31 21:14:45 2010 (+time).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 23:44:15 on Trewsday, Afteryule (January) 24, 1450 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
The night is mild, the twinkling stars shining brightly. A gentle northeasterly breeze cools the night air, and stirs the few clouds which float slowly across the sky. The moon is hidden below the horizon.
===============================================================================
Middle-earth time is:
Nighttime on Trewsday, Day 24 of January.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 21:14:46 MDT on Mon May 31 2010.
Boldibad Bolger
Setting: IC
By all appearances, a gentlehobbit, distinguished by at least five decades of age and experience. Wrinkles only seem to be making their presence known by making their way into the sides of his mouth, and around his eyes. Probably weighing in well over 120 pounds, his girth seems respectable, at least as far as Bolgers go. Despite the extra weight, and advancing age, Boldibad seems to be in fine health.
A few inches of curly, reddish-brown hair cover his head and hang down past his ears. The texture appears to be quite thick, almost wooly. His relatively large feet are coated by similar stuff, the only difference is that this hair appears to be trimmed much shorter than that on his head. His nose is somewhat bulbous, but not so much as to look out of proportion with the rest of his face.
He is wearing a white shirt of cotton, buttoned all the way up. On top of this is an old waistcoat that seems to fit him perfectly. The waistcoat is red with yellow buttons up the center and over the pockets.
Draped over his shoulders is a thick, green cloak meant to keep the chill of winter out. It is held shut with a fine brooch of silver.
A silver chain dangles from a pocket in his waistcoat. It appears to be attached to a watch.
His trousers are black and they dangle somewhat below his ankles. A black belt of thin leather has been wrapped around his waist and from it hangs a couple of pouches that probably contain money or pipeweed.
Budge Ford(#13088Rto)
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.
Contents:
Nob
Boldibad's Coach(#4884Vaet)
Obvious exits:
Bolger Smial leads to Bolger Smial.
Fife Hall leads to Fife Hall.
North leads to Scary.
South leads to Village of Whitfurrows.
Fishing code is in effect here. See +SHIRE HELP FISHING for commands.
Boldibad takes his pocket watch out of his pouch and checks the time.
You check your watch. It's 45 minutes after 10 PM.
Boldibad puts his watch back into his pouch.
On this mild, sparsely-clouded night in Budge Ford, Boldibad is among the few people stirring. The sun has gone down below the horizon a few hours ago, but it doesn't seem to bother him. He sits on a little tree-trunk, the remains of a tree that had been cut in the past, by the side of the river, almost behind Bolger Smial completely, but not quite. If it can be seen in the darkness, a fishing line hangs in the Water, attached to a long pole at the dry end. Small clouds of smoke, smelling strongly of Longbottom Leaf, drifts up toward the center of town.
A dog barks in the distance, to the north.
Ice rims the river, but in the center, there is a black area of open water. A pair of eyes gleam briefly in the darkness on the other side.
Behind Boldibad a door opens with a creak, a yellow square of lamplight thrown onto the snow, and a voice yells at the dog. But, cleverly, while yelling at one dog, a second slips out of the door and races across towards Boldibad, barking even more loudly than the first one had.
Boldibad slowly looks toward the dogs. His free hand is wrapped across his chest, and he leans forward on the stump. He's shivering. "Get back," he calls, almost incoherently, and fog rolls out of his mouth as he does so. "Back!" he repeats. "You're going to scare all the fish. You'll be sorer 'n a Brockhouse, if you animals don't get as I--" He stops mid-sentence to yell loudly, and then sneeze. He does so again, seeming to yell, and then sneeze, dense puffs of vapor shooting out of his mouth and nose.
Someone very annoyed shouts from the still-open doorway, then mutters and turns back inside. When he comes out again, he is well-muffled, and holding up a lantern. Stumping across the icy ground, the middle-aged hobbit keeps up a stream of invective directed at his animals. "You get back here, you stupid dog, you, I should never have opened that door - you KNOW you're not supposed to go outside when.... oh!" He stops abruptly, startled almost into dropping the lantern by the sight of Boldibad.
Boldibad looks up toward the light, grimacing terribly. "Yes," he says brittly, "it's me. Have you brought out a cup of tea, or anything of that sort?" He looks back toward the river and tucks his pipe between his teeth. As he works at reeling in the fishing line, he says through his clenched mouth, "That lantern certainly would be a nice thing to have."
Boldibad notices that his bait is still attached and, without wasting much time, flicks the rod past his ear, and forward, into the Water. He then sets down his rod, and stands there, pulling his cloak around him, looking incredibly cold. "A seedcake," he continues, distantly.
Boldibad casts his line 16 feet into the water.
The other hobbit gawps at him, and shuffles his feet. "Ah," he says. And then, "Er." He coughs, and tries again. "Bit, erm, late isn't it? To be fishing?"
Boldibad sniffles, and just pushes up his bottom lip and chin, squinting his eyes in agitation. "Hogwash!" he says in exaggeration. "This is when the big ones like to bite." He puffs on the pipe and looks away, heaving a small sigh. "No tea then, I suppose," he says, changing the subject suddenly.
Boldibad's line snags, causing him to reel it in empty and replace the line.
The other hobbit shuffles his feet and coughs again. Already, just in this short time, his nose and what of his cheeks are exposed have turned bright red. Cleverly, he says, "There's tea on the boil... in yon.." He points with his head towards his house, invitingly near.
Boldibad rolls his eyes while looking the other way, and replies, "Oh, I'll be in... later. 'Wind, Weed, and Water" he curses, as the line is heard snapping as he attempts to reel it in a little bit. "Isn't that the luck of a Bolger!" He seems to be in an uncommonly bad mood. He goes to work reattaching a new hook and worm. "What are you doing out here, anyhow?" he asks again. "Did you bring your fishing rod, or are did the old ones in there send you out here to get me?"
The hobbit blinks and shivers. "Ah, what old ones?" he asks perplexed. "I come after my dog." He nods down at the animal who is sniffing around Boldibad's bait box. Frozen worms... yay.
Boldibad hesitates, and then looks back up at the other hobbit. He stands up, pulling his pipe from his mouth. "Say," he protests, "you're not my nephew, Filigar. Just who are you, if you don't mind my asking? Are you a guest here?"
"Well, no." The hobbit coughs again. He stamps his feet. "I'm Ferdan. Live yonder, like I said. In that house, there. Where there's tea waiting... and buns. Sticky ones." He looks at Boldibad hopefully.
Boldibad says, "Bwaaaa--" Boldibad sneezes. "Pardon me." He casts his line out, once again, and sits down on the stump. "I thank you, sir," he says with dignity, "but I have tea in my own Smial. And," he adds with a chuckle, "quite a lot to eat. My name, by the way, is Boldibad BOLGER, Mr. Ferdan." He puffs on his pipe and looks out toward the river, and one might wonder if he can actually see anything out there. He grips the line as if checking it. He sits there, puffing on his pipe, and then shakes his head, smirking. "I thought you came out of Bolger Smial, you see."
Ferdan stiffens. "Come, Lad!" he snaps to his dog. "Go and drink your own tea then," he says angrily to Boldibad. "As ours be-ant good enough for the likes of you." He stomps off towards his home, shouting over his shoulder, "And freeze for all I care!"
Boldibad waves his arm, "Bah! Just you keep those dogs on your property, sir, if you don't want to hear from the Bolgers! Bah!!"
Boldibad's line sits motionless on the water.
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Mon May 31 21:14:45 2010 (+time).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 23:44:15 on Trewsday, Afteryule (January) 24, 1450 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
The night is mild, the twinkling stars shining brightly. A gentle northeasterly breeze cools the night air, and stirs the few clouds which float slowly across the sky. The moon is hidden below the horizon.
===============================================================================
Middle-earth time is:
Nighttime on Trewsday, Day 24 of January.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 21:14:46 MDT on Mon May 31 2010.
Boldibad Bolger
Setting: IC
By all appearances, a gentlehobbit, distinguished by at least five decades of age and experience. Wrinkles only seem to be making their presence known by making their way into the sides of his mouth, and around his eyes. Probably weighing in well over 120 pounds, his girth seems respectable, at least as far as Bolgers go. Despite the extra weight, and advancing age, Boldibad seems to be in fine health.
A few inches of curly, reddish-brown hair cover his head and hang down past his ears. The texture appears to be quite thick, almost wooly. His relatively large feet are coated by similar stuff, the only difference is that this hair appears to be trimmed much shorter than that on his head. His nose is somewhat bulbous, but not so much as to look out of proportion with the rest of his face.
He is wearing a white shirt of cotton, buttoned all the way up. On top of this is an old waistcoat that seems to fit him perfectly. The waistcoat is red with yellow buttons up the center and over the pockets.
Draped over his shoulders is a thick, green cloak meant to keep the chill of winter out. It is held shut with a fine brooch of silver.
A silver chain dangles from a pocket in his waistcoat. It appears to be attached to a watch.
His trousers are black and they dangle somewhat below his ankles. A black belt of thin leather has been wrapped around his waist and from it hangs a couple of pouches that probably contain money or pipeweed.
Budge Ford(#13088Rto)
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.
Contents:
Nob
Boldibad's Coach(#4884Vaet)
Obvious exits:
Bolger Smial leads to Bolger Smial.
Fife Hall leads to Fife Hall.
North leads to Scary.
South leads to Village of Whitfurrows.
Boldibad takes his pocket watch out of his pouch and checks the time.
You check your watch. It's 45 minutes after 10 PM.
Boldibad puts his watch back into his pouch.
On this mild, sparsely-clouded night in Budge Ford, Boldibad is among the few people stirring. The sun has gone down below the horizon a few hours ago, but it doesn't seem to bother him. He sits on a little tree-trunk, the remains of a tree that had been cut in the past, by the side of the river, almost behind Bolger Smial completely, but not quite. If it can be seen in the darkness, a fishing line hangs in the Water, attached to a long pole at the dry end. Small clouds of smoke, smelling strongly of Longbottom Leaf, drifts up toward the center of town.
A dog barks in the distance, to the north.
Ice rims the river, but in the center, there is a black area of open water. A pair of eyes gleam briefly in the darkness on the other side.
Behind Boldibad a door opens with a creak, a yellow square of lamplight thrown onto the snow, and a voice yells at the dog. But, cleverly, while yelling at one dog, a second slips out of the door and races across towards Boldibad, barking even more loudly than the first one had.
Boldibad slowly looks toward the dogs. His free hand is wrapped across his chest, and he leans forward on the stump. He's shivering. "Get back," he calls, almost incoherently, and fog rolls out of his mouth as he does so. "Back!" he repeats. "You're going to scare all the fish. You'll be sorer 'n a Brockhouse, if you animals don't get as I--" He stops mid-sentence to yell loudly, and then sneeze. He does so again, seeming to yell, and then sneeze, dense puffs of vapor shooting out of his mouth and nose.
Someone very annoyed shouts from the still-open doorway, then mutters and turns back inside. When he comes out again, he is well-muffled, and holding up a lantern. Stumping across the icy ground, the middle-aged hobbit keeps up a stream of invective directed at his animals. "You get back here, you stupid dog, you, I should never have opened that door - you KNOW you're not supposed to go outside when.... oh!" He stops abruptly, startled almost into dropping the lantern by the sight of Boldibad.
Boldibad looks up toward the light, grimacing terribly. "Yes," he says brittly, "it's me. Have you brought out a cup of tea, or anything of that sort?" He looks back toward the river and tucks his pipe between his teeth. As he works at reeling in the fishing line, he says through his clenched mouth, "That lantern certainly would be a nice thing to have."
Boldibad notices that his bait is still attached and, without wasting much time, flicks the rod past his ear, and forward, into the Water. He then sets down his rod, and stands there, pulling his cloak around him, looking incredibly cold. "A seedcake," he continues, distantly.
Boldibad casts his line 16 feet into the water.
The other hobbit gawps at him, and shuffles his feet. "Ah," he says. And then, "Er." He coughs, and tries again. "Bit, erm, late isn't it? To be fishing?"
Boldibad sniffles, and just pushes up his bottom lip and chin, squinting his eyes in agitation. "Hogwash!" he says in exaggeration. "This is when the big ones like to bite." He puffs on the pipe and looks away, heaving a small sigh. "No tea then, I suppose," he says, changing the subject suddenly.
Boldibad's line snags, causing him to reel it in empty and replace the line.
The other hobbit shuffles his feet and coughs again. Already, just in this short time, his nose and what of his cheeks are exposed have turned bright red. Cleverly, he says, "There's tea on the boil... in yon.." He points with his head towards his house, invitingly near.
Boldibad rolls his eyes while looking the other way, and replies, "Oh, I'll be in... later. 'Wind, Weed, and Water" he curses, as the line is heard snapping as he attempts to reel it in a little bit. "Isn't that the luck of a Bolger!" He seems to be in an uncommonly bad mood. He goes to work reattaching a new hook and worm. "What are you doing out here, anyhow?" he asks again. "Did you bring your fishing rod, or are did the old ones in there send you out here to get me?"
The hobbit blinks and shivers. "Ah, what old ones?" he asks perplexed. "I come after my dog." He nods down at the animal who is sniffing around Boldibad's bait box. Frozen worms... yay.
Boldibad hesitates, and then looks back up at the other hobbit. He stands up, pulling his pipe from his mouth. "Say," he protests, "you're not my nephew, Filigar. Just who are you, if you don't mind my asking? Are you a guest here?"
"Well, no." The hobbit coughs again. He stamps his feet. "I'm Ferdan. Live yonder, like I said. In that house, there. Where there's tea waiting... and buns. Sticky ones." He looks at Boldibad hopefully.
Boldibad says, "Bwaaaa--" Boldibad sneezes. "Pardon me." He casts his line out, once again, and sits down on the stump. "I thank you, sir," he says with dignity, "but I have tea in my own Smial. And," he adds with a chuckle, "quite a lot to eat. My name, by the way, is Boldibad BOLGER, Mr. Ferdan." He puffs on his pipe and looks out toward the river, and one might wonder if he can actually see anything out there. He grips the line as if checking it. He sits there, puffing on his pipe, and then shakes his head, smirking. "I thought you came out of Bolger Smial, you see."
Ferdan stiffens. "Come, Lad!" he snaps to his dog. "Go and drink your own tea then," he says angrily to Boldibad. "As ours be-ant good enough for the likes of you." He stomps off towards his home, shouting over his shoulder, "And freeze for all I care!"
Boldibad waves his arm, "Bah! Just you keep those dogs on your property, sir, if you don't want to hear from the Bolgers! Bah!!"
Boldibad's line sits motionless on the water.
Players: Boldibad, Nob
Located in: Shirefolk
