Elendor
Dog on the loose!
An overeager girl-hobbit has taken the family dog for a walk ...
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Shire, Michel Delving
Game Date: October 1449 SR (3049)
IC Time: Evening
Description: Michel Delving
Michel Delving -- chief township and capital of the Shire. The town is a network of snaking streets and doorways which lead to shops or homes lining the streets. The smials of this town are slightly unique, due to the fact that they burrowed into the White Downs the silvery rooftops contrast the verdant green found elsewhere in the Shire. The streets here are paved with cobblestones, closely fitted together and smooth beneath your feet.
Directly in the center of town is a free-standing edifice known as the Mathom-House, a circular construct with a conical thatched ceiling arching upwards. Next to the gates leading to the Great East Road, a hobbit with a feathered cap sits outside a sturdy looking smial entitled "The Shirriff House," seemingly monitoring traffic through the gates. Also noticeable is the large Delving Inn with a blackened oak doorway with brass fittings. A stone's throw away, sandwiched between two cheery-looking homes, is a stately looking structure. Though burrowed into the Hillside on the eastern side of town, much of the burrow has been covered over by a wooden facade. Flowerboxes and a terrace enclosed by a white picket fence mark the Town Hole as one of the best-kept smials in town. Due to the several distinguished looking smials, this appears to be the nucleus of Michel Delving. The plethora of buildings here marks this community as the most populated and prosperous of Shire towns. Hobbits are wandering through the streets attending to business, and some pass back and forth through the gates to the north. Leaves of red and brown are scattered atop most rooftops others are raked into neat clumps near the inn.
Obvious exits:
The Mathom-House leads to The Mathom-House.
Shirriff House leads to Shirriff House.
Town Hole leads to Town Hole.
The Delving Inn leads to The Delving Inn.
West leads to Rose Lane.
South leads to Honeysuckle Street.
North leads to Gates of Michel Delving.
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Thu Apr 29 14:34:46 2010 (+time).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 18:44:18 on Thursday, Winterfilth (October) 20, 1449 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
There is no wind to stir the heavy fog which seems to be everywhere today. The pale light of the sun can dimly be sensed from above.
===============================================================================
"HEY!" "ouchouchouch" "St-st-stop!"
Shrill cries break the peace of the evening, whipping heads around to stare at....
A large shaggy dog is racing down the street, tongue hanging out. And behind it, rattled along on the end of a longish rope, is the hobbit child who was shouting. Every now and then she goes airborne, then bounces off of the road again.
Who should be out taking the air on this fine autumn evening but the Bree incomer, Torebras Bywater? At the moment he is strolling along, gazing thoughtfully and not a little enviously at the neatly painted door of the Town Hole, one hand lifted to adjust his hat. When the shout comes he turns, demanding irascibly, "What do you mean, stop? Why, when I was a young hobbitling-" The pompous words halt at the sight of the bounding dog coming his way, and his mouth falls open.
It is at this point that the child's grip fails. She sprawls in the road at Torebras' feet, while the dog hot-foots it out of sight. There is a moment of silence, and then the little hobbit picks herself up and tries to brush the dust off of her blouse, and looks at her skinned knee. Her lip wobbles a little bit.
Torebras flinches as the dog seems to be charging straight for him - how could he not? - but fear, if such it is, keeps him safely rooted to the spot until the beast is past and gone. Letting out his breath slowly, he grasps the lapels of his coat and gives it a shake before peering down at the sorrowful-looking figure. "There, there," he murmurs, giving his best Fatherly Smile. "There's no need to take on so. Are you hurt? I do have a clean pocket-handkerchief-" He pulls said item out with a flourish It is snowy white silk.
Buttercup sniffs, swallowing and blinking back her tears. "He got away," she says sadly, "And papa will be mad at me, and.." She sticks out her leg for Torebras inspection. "So will mama, for I tore my dress, too!" The knee is not badly scraped, but there are a few drops of blood starting to ooze out of the cuts, and the child is dirty all over. "They - they said I was too little to take Grumpus on a walk and I wanted to show them they were wrong, I'm as big as any of them!"
Torebras peers down at the little leg with its drops of blood and winces. "Dear, dear me. It .. ah, /was/ a rather large dog, you know." And then, lest this appealing little girl start to cry again, he moves forward, handkerchief at the ready. "Allow me." He uses one end to wipe away the worst of the blood and dirt, then suggests, "Maybe we could make this into a little bandage?" Notably, he does not offer to chase the dog.
The little girl nods, then watches him with interest as he wipes off her knee. "Yes, we could do that," she agrees, before looking at the dust that is all that is left of the dog. "I thought he would mind better," she confesses. "But he didn't listen to me at all!"
Torebras' full attention is held by the process of wrapping the silken handkerchief around the dirty knee. Somehow it seems rather harder than in the stories involving gallant heroes and fair hobbit-maidens. He tries one way, then another, then shakes his head. "Maybe if I just knot the ends ..." Moments later he straightens to survey his work. It looks rather squint - and worse, rather loose. "Well, child," he tells the little hobbit-girl, "when it comes to animals one has to be /firm/, you know. Show him who's master!"
"I tried," protests Buttercup. "Really, I did, I said "WALK," just like papa does. And he was good... for a little bit." She sighs, her shoulders sagging, and inspects the bandage then lifts a glowing smile to Torebras. "Thank you!" Clearly, she has no complaints about its quality. "But then he saw a squirrel or something, and he w-wouldn't stop."
At that glowing smile Torebras noticeably preens. "No trouble at all, little lady." But at the rest of the sentence he frowns. "A squirrel?" he repeats. "In Michel Delving?" Something seems to occur to him, for he glances round nervously. "Are you sure it wasn't .. ah, a rat?"
A little uncertainty enters the little girl's face. "I.. I don't /think/ so," she says. "I - I didn't really see it very well. But Grumpus barked really loudly and then he chased it, so I just thought it was a squirrel."
"Ahh... oh." Torebras' polite nod ends in a jerk as he realizes that no, the child hasn't proved it wasn't a rat. He twitches at his coat, then shakes his head. "There's no use us worrying our heads over it, is there? Now then, young lady," he pauses, holding out a hand. "Would you like me to take you back to your smial? I'm sure that your dog will come if you call him, you know."
"Yes, please," Buttercup says, resignedly. She reaches up to take his hand, and they start back together.
Michel Delving -- chief township and capital of the Shire. The town is a network of snaking streets and doorways which lead to shops or homes lining the streets. The smials of this town are slightly unique, due to the fact that they burrowed into the White Downs the silvery rooftops contrast the verdant green found elsewhere in the Shire. The streets here are paved with cobblestones, closely fitted together and smooth beneath your feet.
Directly in the center of town is a free-standing edifice known as the Mathom-House, a circular construct with a conical thatched ceiling arching upwards. Next to the gates leading to the Great East Road, a hobbit with a feathered cap sits outside a sturdy looking smial entitled "The Shirriff House," seemingly monitoring traffic through the gates. Also noticeable is the large Delving Inn with a blackened oak doorway with brass fittings. A stone's throw away, sandwiched between two cheery-looking homes, is a stately looking structure. Though burrowed into the Hillside on the eastern side of town, much of the burrow has been covered over by a wooden facade. Flowerboxes and a terrace enclosed by a white picket fence mark the Town Hole as one of the best-kept smials in town. Due to the several distinguished looking smials, this appears to be the nucleus of Michel Delving. The plethora of buildings here marks this community as the most populated and prosperous of Shire towns. Hobbits are wandering through the streets attending to business, and some pass back and forth through the gates to the north. Leaves of red and brown are scattered atop most rooftops others are raked into neat clumps near the inn.
Obvious exits:
The Mathom-House leads to The Mathom-House.
Shirriff House leads to Shirriff House.
Town Hole leads to Town Hole.
The Delving Inn leads to The Delving Inn.
West leads to Rose Lane.
South leads to Honeysuckle Street.
North leads to Gates of Michel Delving.
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Thu Apr 29 14:34:46 2010 (+time).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 18:44:18 on Thursday, Winterfilth (October) 20, 1449 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
There is no wind to stir the heavy fog which seems to be everywhere today. The pale light of the sun can dimly be sensed from above.
===============================================================================
"HEY!" "ouchouchouch" "St-st-stop!"
Shrill cries break the peace of the evening, whipping heads around to stare at....
A large shaggy dog is racing down the street, tongue hanging out. And behind it, rattled along on the end of a longish rope, is the hobbit child who was shouting. Every now and then she goes airborne, then bounces off of the road again.
Who should be out taking the air on this fine autumn evening but the Bree incomer, Torebras Bywater? At the moment he is strolling along, gazing thoughtfully and not a little enviously at the neatly painted door of the Town Hole, one hand lifted to adjust his hat. When the shout comes he turns, demanding irascibly, "What do you mean, stop? Why, when I was a young hobbitling-" The pompous words halt at the sight of the bounding dog coming his way, and his mouth falls open.
It is at this point that the child's grip fails. She sprawls in the road at Torebras' feet, while the dog hot-foots it out of sight. There is a moment of silence, and then the little hobbit picks herself up and tries to brush the dust off of her blouse, and looks at her skinned knee. Her lip wobbles a little bit.
Torebras flinches as the dog seems to be charging straight for him - how could he not? - but fear, if such it is, keeps him safely rooted to the spot until the beast is past and gone. Letting out his breath slowly, he grasps the lapels of his coat and gives it a shake before peering down at the sorrowful-looking figure. "There, there," he murmurs, giving his best Fatherly Smile. "There's no need to take on so. Are you hurt? I do have a clean pocket-handkerchief-" He pulls said item out with a flourish It is snowy white silk.
Buttercup sniffs, swallowing and blinking back her tears. "He got away," she says sadly, "And papa will be mad at me, and.." She sticks out her leg for Torebras inspection. "So will mama, for I tore my dress, too!" The knee is not badly scraped, but there are a few drops of blood starting to ooze out of the cuts, and the child is dirty all over. "They - they said I was too little to take Grumpus on a walk and I wanted to show them they were wrong, I'm as big as any of them!"
Torebras peers down at the little leg with its drops of blood and winces. "Dear, dear me. It .. ah, /was/ a rather large dog, you know." And then, lest this appealing little girl start to cry again, he moves forward, handkerchief at the ready. "Allow me." He uses one end to wipe away the worst of the blood and dirt, then suggests, "Maybe we could make this into a little bandage?" Notably, he does not offer to chase the dog.
The little girl nods, then watches him with interest as he wipes off her knee. "Yes, we could do that," she agrees, before looking at the dust that is all that is left of the dog. "I thought he would mind better," she confesses. "But he didn't listen to me at all!"
Torebras' full attention is held by the process of wrapping the silken handkerchief around the dirty knee. Somehow it seems rather harder than in the stories involving gallant heroes and fair hobbit-maidens. He tries one way, then another, then shakes his head. "Maybe if I just knot the ends ..." Moments later he straightens to survey his work. It looks rather squint - and worse, rather loose. "Well, child," he tells the little hobbit-girl, "when it comes to animals one has to be /firm/, you know. Show him who's master!"
"I tried," protests Buttercup. "Really, I did, I said "WALK," just like papa does. And he was good... for a little bit." She sighs, her shoulders sagging, and inspects the bandage then lifts a glowing smile to Torebras. "Thank you!" Clearly, she has no complaints about its quality. "But then he saw a squirrel or something, and he w-wouldn't stop."
At that glowing smile Torebras noticeably preens. "No trouble at all, little lady." But at the rest of the sentence he frowns. "A squirrel?" he repeats. "In Michel Delving?" Something seems to occur to him, for he glances round nervously. "Are you sure it wasn't .. ah, a rat?"
A little uncertainty enters the little girl's face. "I.. I don't /think/ so," she says. "I - I didn't really see it very well. But Grumpus barked really loudly and then he chased it, so I just thought it was a squirrel."
"Ahh... oh." Torebras' polite nod ends in a jerk as he realizes that no, the child hasn't proved it wasn't a rat. He twitches at his coat, then shakes his head. "There's no use us worrying our heads over it, is there? Now then, young lady," he pauses, holding out a hand. "Would you like me to take you back to your smial? I'm sure that your dog will come if you call him, you know."
"Yes, please," Buttercup says, resignedly. She reaches up to take his hand, and they start back together.
Players: Buttercup, Torebras
Located in: Shirefolk
