Elendor
Bolger Modesty
A conversation between Boldibad and Torebras, at Bolger Smial.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Shire
Game Date: Blotmath 23, 1449 S.R.
IC Time: 20:35
Weather: Clear
Description: ================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Mon May 10 15:11:31 2010 (+time).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 20:34:33 on Trewsday, Blotmath (November) 23, 1449 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
Not a single cloud can be seen on the horizon. The day is clear, and fairly warm away from the wind which, blowing moderately from the north-west, is enough to chill the air.
===============================================================================
Bolger Smial(#1788Rnt)
The Great Hall of the Bolger Smial is a very large, high-ceilinged, well-lit room, panelled in walnut and cherrywood. Thick, unadorned oak arches support the roof, which is filled with strange carvings. The polished maplewood floor is so shiny you can see your face in it.
At one end of the Hall is a raised dais, upon which a huge table and several ornately carved chairs are set. A swinging door, at the end furthest away from the front door and near a large grandfather clock, presumably leads to the kitchens. The Bolger family history is carved into one wall.
Light pours into the Hall from windows set high up in the ceiling. Dust floats through the sunbeams. You notice the Bolger Coat of Arms, carved into the chimney of the fireplace that rises from behind the table on the dais.
Contents:
Torebras
Obvious exits:
Front Door leads to Budge Ford.
Parlour leads to Bolger Smial: Parlour.
Library leads to Bolger Smial: Library.
Kitchen leads to Bolger Smial Kitchen.
Bedroom leads to Bolger Smial: Master Bedroom.
Torebras
This hobbit is, at first glance, little different from most of his kind. Of average height and build, his homely face is round and rosy-cheeked, his girth is ... well, he's as fond of his food as any. However, there's a certain lift to his chin that gives him an air of confidence, and his nut-brown eyes have a tendency to grow distant every now and then - the look of a Thinker.
He is dressed quite the dandy. Over a snowy white linen shirt with starched collar and cuffs he wears a bottle-green velvet waistcoat, its polished silver buttons engraved with acorns a complementary design of oak leaves adorns the large silver belt buckle around his prominent middle. The cocked hat that sits atop his glossy chestnut curls is decorated with a pheasant's feather. In a nod to practicality, he wears sensible black breeches.
Huh? (Type "help" for help.)
Boldibad
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.
|Boldibad is looking at you.|
Bolger Smial(#1788Rnt)
The Great Hall of the Bolger Smial is a very large, high-ceilinged, well-lit room, panelled in walnut and cherrywood. Thick, unadorned oak arches support the roof, which is filled with strange carvings. The polished maplewood floor is so shiny you can see your face in it.
At one end of the Hall is a raised dais, upon which a huge table and several ornately carved chairs are set. A swinging door, at the end furthest away from the front door and near a large grandfather clock, presumably leads to the kitchens. The Bolger family history is carved into one wall.
Light pours into the Hall from windows set high up in the ceiling. Dust floats through the sunbeams. You notice the Bolger Coat of Arms, carved into the chimney of the fireplace that rises from behind the table on the dais.
Contents:
Torebras
Obvious exits:
Front Door leads to Budge Ford.
Parlour leads to Bolger Smial: Parlour.
Library leads to Bolger Smial: Library.
Kitchen leads to Bolger Smial Kitchen.
Bedroom leads to Bolger Smial: Master Bedroom.
Afternoon is waning, and evening is creeping on - almost time for a bite of supper. The light from the setting sun floods in through the high windows, painting the Bolger Smial in hues as ruddy as the hair of the ancient figures in the portraits. Torebras wanders about the smial, pausing admiringly before the wall with the history and glancing up at the carvings.
Boldibad comes up from the direction of the kitchen with a teacup and saucer in one hand. He stops just outside the round doorway to take a sip from the cup, and looks around the room. After spotting Torebras, he walks over and bows, "Hello, Mr. Bywater. I knew it would happen--you enjoyed our hospitality for one night, and you're having trouble leaving now!"
Red flows the Brandywine with flame the river kindles,
as sun sinks beyond the Shire, and then to grey it dwindles.
Torebras inspects Bolger Smial's coat.
For a moment - just a moment, mind - Torebras looks a little flustered. Then he recovers himself, putting on a polite smile. "Why, Mister Bolger, I was just admiring your family's history. Indeed, I can see that yours is a family steeped in tradition. And such .. ah, striking, figures." He waves an arm airily at the portraits before turning to the coat of arms. "Your family's business is based on grain, I take it?"
Boldibad smiles, turning toward the words carved into the wall. "Thank you," he says, "I still get that same feeling when I look at the details of this old smial." He takes a sip of his tea, "Oh, the Bolgers have gotten involved with all sorts of different ventures over the years. My father, Foldenbrar, and I always had our noses in books and history of the Shire. And, what about the Bree Bywaters?" He notices the butler walking nearby and calls for him. "Bring Mr. Bywater a cup of tea, please."
Tea? Torebras looks after the departing butler, then murmurs a quick, "Thank you," for Boldibad. The question sets him puffing out his chest, a knowing smile on his lips. "My own family is perhaps less steeped in ancestry, but eminently respectable. "We also have taken a long interest in printed matter. My own dear father is writing a book on the history of Bree, in fact. I myself have focused on business - I have quite the head for figures, you know." That head raises another half-inch or so. "Currently I have investments in a number of concerns, as well as an interest in exports to Bree. Luxury goods so far, but I suppose the occasion might arise for commodities such as wheat ..." He seems to must on the matter.
Boldibad suppresses a yawn, and nods his head. "Yes, yes. Well, I've always considered pipeweed the safest trade, myself. Of course, profits aren't a matter of concern for me... I'm most interested in antiques, and have spent a good long time finding and selling them. Haven't made hardly a copper penny, but I kept at it. That's the business to be in, Mr. Bywater--the one that you're interested in." He chuckles, "Of course, at my age, I realized that working is for Brockhouses and Diggles--I've come to my senses and spend my time enjoying the Shire, you see."
Torebras' eyebrows lower at Boldibad's confession regarding money and he coughs politely into his hand. "Ah ... quite, quite, Mister Bolger", he manages to murmur in response. "Always best to focus on what one enjoys. But, you know - are you sure you're not simply in need of a little assistance to render your business more profitable? I have many years expertise in book-keeping." He smiles genially at the other hobbit, then looks to see if the butler is returning.
Boldibad smiles broadly, "Well said, Mr. Bywater. And, thank you for the offer, but... well, it'd be another expense, you know," He chuckles a bit and then clears his throat. He glances over his shoulder, "That tea should be here shortly..." Turning back, he says, "In the meantime, I wanted to ask you about the thing you mentioned the other day... about the incident with the Quick Post, I blieve?"
Torebras tsks. "My dear Mister Bolger, a good bookkeeper more than pays for himself!" The change of subject leaves him a little uncomfortable. "Ah ... yes. Cancelling my mail has more or less resolved the matter. Just the odd isolated incident. Mess on the doormat, uprooted flowerbeds. Laddish high spirits." He tries, and fails miserably, to look unconcerned.
Boldibad takes a sip of his tea. "And," he continues, "you haven't been getting any more trouble of that kind, then? You see, I had fish on my mind when we last spoke, and couldn't recall what happened right away. But, I've been thinking about it since then--I'm sure there's something you could do to show the Shirefolk that you mean well, if you are still being bothered."
Torebras delicately avoids giving an answer to that first question. "There is?" he asks eagerly. "I would be most grateful for the advice, Mister Bolger. I am well aware that our customs in Bree are a little different. Regarding work and such things ..." He lets the words trail off, staring down at his furry toes.
Boldibad pats Torebras on the shoulder, "Of course there is. Off the top of my head, we could have a fund-raising event. Collect all the money you can, and give it all to the villagers in Scary. We'll have a huge festival!"
Torebras does not look most pleased at this idea. "A- a charitable event?" he manages to stammer, standing stoically under the pat. "A most excellent idea, of course, Mister Bolger. Although I feel that to symbolize the unity between the Shire and Bree, I should perhaps have some co-sponsors."
Boldibad takes another sip of his tea, "Of course it is, Mr. Bywater! Everybody loves a hand-out, and you're just the gentlehobbit to give it to them. Co-sponsors? Er, I suppose I could help you out... I'll visit Mr. Thilo Bracegirdle, and see if he'd be willing to do it!"
Torebras shuffles uncomfortably from foot to foot. "You're sure I can't interest you in contributing yourself, Mister Bolger?" he enquires, lifting an eyebrow. "After all, I'm sure the poor unfortunates of Scary would appreciate seeing evidence of your concern for them. And Mister Bracegirdle too, of course, if you wish it." Oddly he doesn't seem overly eager for the association to be arranged. "Now, where was that tea?"
Boldibad scratches the back of his neck, "Well, I suppose I could... help in some way. Just let me think about that for a time, eh? Scary is not a bad place, it's just those Brockhouses I can't stand! I don't know how many times we've had to chase Brockhouse children out of the Bolger garden..." He looks over his shoulder again, "Well, I'm terribly sorry, sir. Make yourself comfortable in the parlor, if you'd like--I'm going to go and see if that butler has knocked his head on something along the way... excuse me." He turns and wanders down toward the kitchen.
Torebras nods his head sagely. "Youngsters will be youngsters," is his response. "Likely it's just youthful high spirits ..." He stops suddenly, mouth open as though in thought. Once Boldibad is out of earshot he murmurs to himself, "Brockhouses, is it? If I find that any of those young delinquents have been fouling my garden I'll - I'll-" Words fail him.
Clearly the path to a miner's benefit celebration will not be a smooth one.
RL (Arizona) Time is Mon May 10 15:11:31 2010 (+time).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 20:34:33 on Trewsday, Blotmath (November) 23, 1449 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
Not a single cloud can be seen on the horizon. The day is clear, and fairly warm away from the wind which, blowing moderately from the north-west, is enough to chill the air.
===============================================================================
Bolger Smial(#1788Rnt)
The Great Hall of the Bolger Smial is a very large, high-ceilinged, well-lit room, panelled in walnut and cherrywood. Thick, unadorned oak arches support the roof, which is filled with strange carvings. The polished maplewood floor is so shiny you can see your face in it.
At one end of the Hall is a raised dais, upon which a huge table and several ornately carved chairs are set. A swinging door, at the end furthest away from the front door and near a large grandfather clock, presumably leads to the kitchens. The Bolger family history is carved into one wall.
Light pours into the Hall from windows set high up in the ceiling. Dust floats through the sunbeams. You notice the Bolger Coat of Arms, carved into the chimney of the fireplace that rises from behind the table on the dais.
Contents:
Torebras
Obvious exits:
Front Door leads to Budge Ford.
Parlour leads to Bolger Smial: Parlour.
Library leads to Bolger Smial: Library.
Kitchen leads to Bolger Smial Kitchen.
Bedroom leads to Bolger Smial: Master Bedroom.
Torebras
This hobbit is, at first glance, little different from most of his kind. Of average height and build, his homely face is round and rosy-cheeked, his girth is ... well, he's as fond of his food as any. However, there's a certain lift to his chin that gives him an air of confidence, and his nut-brown eyes have a tendency to grow distant every now and then - the look of a Thinker.
He is dressed quite the dandy. Over a snowy white linen shirt with starched collar and cuffs he wears a bottle-green velvet waistcoat, its polished silver buttons engraved with acorns a complementary design of oak leaves adorns the large silver belt buckle around his prominent middle. The cocked hat that sits atop his glossy chestnut curls is decorated with a pheasant's feather. In a nod to practicality, he wears sensible black breeches.
Huh? (Type "help" for help.)
Boldibad
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.
|Boldibad is looking at you.|
Bolger Smial(#1788Rnt)
The Great Hall of the Bolger Smial is a very large, high-ceilinged, well-lit room, panelled in walnut and cherrywood. Thick, unadorned oak arches support the roof, which is filled with strange carvings. The polished maplewood floor is so shiny you can see your face in it.
At one end of the Hall is a raised dais, upon which a huge table and several ornately carved chairs are set. A swinging door, at the end furthest away from the front door and near a large grandfather clock, presumably leads to the kitchens. The Bolger family history is carved into one wall.
Light pours into the Hall from windows set high up in the ceiling. Dust floats through the sunbeams. You notice the Bolger Coat of Arms, carved into the chimney of the fireplace that rises from behind the table on the dais.
Contents:
Torebras
Obvious exits:
Front Door leads to Budge Ford.
Parlour leads to Bolger Smial: Parlour.
Library leads to Bolger Smial: Library.
Kitchen leads to Bolger Smial Kitchen.
Bedroom leads to Bolger Smial: Master Bedroom.
Afternoon is waning, and evening is creeping on - almost time for a bite of supper. The light from the setting sun floods in through the high windows, painting the Bolger Smial in hues as ruddy as the hair of the ancient figures in the portraits. Torebras wanders about the smial, pausing admiringly before the wall with the history and glancing up at the carvings.
Boldibad comes up from the direction of the kitchen with a teacup and saucer in one hand. He stops just outside the round doorway to take a sip from the cup, and looks around the room. After spotting Torebras, he walks over and bows, "Hello, Mr. Bywater. I knew it would happen--you enjoyed our hospitality for one night, and you're having trouble leaving now!"
Red flows the Brandywine with flame the river kindles,
as sun sinks beyond the Shire, and then to grey it dwindles.
Torebras inspects Bolger Smial's coat.
For a moment - just a moment, mind - Torebras looks a little flustered. Then he recovers himself, putting on a polite smile. "Why, Mister Bolger, I was just admiring your family's history. Indeed, I can see that yours is a family steeped in tradition. And such .. ah, striking, figures." He waves an arm airily at the portraits before turning to the coat of arms. "Your family's business is based on grain, I take it?"
Boldibad smiles, turning toward the words carved into the wall. "Thank you," he says, "I still get that same feeling when I look at the details of this old smial." He takes a sip of his tea, "Oh, the Bolgers have gotten involved with all sorts of different ventures over the years. My father, Foldenbrar, and I always had our noses in books and history of the Shire. And, what about the Bree Bywaters?" He notices the butler walking nearby and calls for him. "Bring Mr. Bywater a cup of tea, please."
Tea? Torebras looks after the departing butler, then murmurs a quick, "Thank you," for Boldibad. The question sets him puffing out his chest, a knowing smile on his lips. "My own family is perhaps less steeped in ancestry, but eminently respectable. "We also have taken a long interest in printed matter. My own dear father is writing a book on the history of Bree, in fact. I myself have focused on business - I have quite the head for figures, you know." That head raises another half-inch or so. "Currently I have investments in a number of concerns, as well as an interest in exports to Bree. Luxury goods so far, but I suppose the occasion might arise for commodities such as wheat ..." He seems to must on the matter.
Boldibad suppresses a yawn, and nods his head. "Yes, yes. Well, I've always considered pipeweed the safest trade, myself. Of course, profits aren't a matter of concern for me... I'm most interested in antiques, and have spent a good long time finding and selling them. Haven't made hardly a copper penny, but I kept at it. That's the business to be in, Mr. Bywater--the one that you're interested in." He chuckles, "Of course, at my age, I realized that working is for Brockhouses and Diggles--I've come to my senses and spend my time enjoying the Shire, you see."
Torebras' eyebrows lower at Boldibad's confession regarding money and he coughs politely into his hand. "Ah ... quite, quite, Mister Bolger", he manages to murmur in response. "Always best to focus on what one enjoys. But, you know - are you sure you're not simply in need of a little assistance to render your business more profitable? I have many years expertise in book-keeping." He smiles genially at the other hobbit, then looks to see if the butler is returning.
Boldibad smiles broadly, "Well said, Mr. Bywater. And, thank you for the offer, but... well, it'd be another expense, you know," He chuckles a bit and then clears his throat. He glances over his shoulder, "That tea should be here shortly..." Turning back, he says, "In the meantime, I wanted to ask you about the thing you mentioned the other day... about the incident with the Quick Post, I blieve?"
Torebras tsks. "My dear Mister Bolger, a good bookkeeper more than pays for himself!" The change of subject leaves him a little uncomfortable. "Ah ... yes. Cancelling my mail has more or less resolved the matter. Just the odd isolated incident. Mess on the doormat, uprooted flowerbeds. Laddish high spirits." He tries, and fails miserably, to look unconcerned.
Boldibad takes a sip of his tea. "And," he continues, "you haven't been getting any more trouble of that kind, then? You see, I had fish on my mind when we last spoke, and couldn't recall what happened right away. But, I've been thinking about it since then--I'm sure there's something you could do to show the Shirefolk that you mean well, if you are still being bothered."
Torebras delicately avoids giving an answer to that first question. "There is?" he asks eagerly. "I would be most grateful for the advice, Mister Bolger. I am well aware that our customs in Bree are a little different. Regarding work and such things ..." He lets the words trail off, staring down at his furry toes.
Boldibad pats Torebras on the shoulder, "Of course there is. Off the top of my head, we could have a fund-raising event. Collect all the money you can, and give it all to the villagers in Scary. We'll have a huge festival!"
Torebras does not look most pleased at this idea. "A- a charitable event?" he manages to stammer, standing stoically under the pat. "A most excellent idea, of course, Mister Bolger. Although I feel that to symbolize the unity between the Shire and Bree, I should perhaps have some co-sponsors."
Boldibad takes another sip of his tea, "Of course it is, Mr. Bywater! Everybody loves a hand-out, and you're just the gentlehobbit to give it to them. Co-sponsors? Er, I suppose I could help you out... I'll visit Mr. Thilo Bracegirdle, and see if he'd be willing to do it!"
Torebras shuffles uncomfortably from foot to foot. "You're sure I can't interest you in contributing yourself, Mister Bolger?" he enquires, lifting an eyebrow. "After all, I'm sure the poor unfortunates of Scary would appreciate seeing evidence of your concern for them. And Mister Bracegirdle too, of course, if you wish it." Oddly he doesn't seem overly eager for the association to be arranged. "Now, where was that tea?"
Boldibad scratches the back of his neck, "Well, I suppose I could... help in some way. Just let me think about that for a time, eh? Scary is not a bad place, it's just those Brockhouses I can't stand! I don't know how many times we've had to chase Brockhouse children out of the Bolger garden..." He looks over his shoulder again, "Well, I'm terribly sorry, sir. Make yourself comfortable in the parlor, if you'd like--I'm going to go and see if that butler has knocked his head on something along the way... excuse me." He turns and wanders down toward the kitchen.
Torebras nods his head sagely. "Youngsters will be youngsters," is his response. "Likely it's just youthful high spirits ..." He stops suddenly, mouth open as though in thought. Once Boldibad is out of earshot he murmurs to himself, "Brockhouses, is it? If I find that any of those young delinquents have been fouling my garden I'll - I'll-" Words fail him.
Clearly the path to a miner's benefit celebration will not be a smooth one.
Players: Boldibad, Torebras
Located in: Shirefolk
