Muddy meetings on Stock Rd
Logfile from Elendor.
Middle-earth time is:
Early Evening on Mersday, Day 11 of November.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 21:35:52 MDT on Mon Jan 04 2010.
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Mon Jan 04 21:35:54 2010 (+time).
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IC Time is 19:47:42 on Thursday, Blotmath (November) 11, 1448 S.R.
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IC Weather Conditions:
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The gentle sound of rain dropping from the sky accompanies a light shower from grey-white clouds, which fill most of the sky. A light wind blows from the north-east.
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Malorie
This young woman seems to fit in with the general population of Bree and, except for her attire, might be easily lost in a crowd. Her face is fair (as faces go) and complexion clear, and it appears she spends quite a bit of time in the sun by the tone of it. Her eyes are green with flecks of amber and there is often a glint mingling suspicion in her gaze--all complemented by a veritable mane of long, wavy, dark-chestnut hair which is held away from her face with the help of a silver hairpin decorated with a cluster of tiny, carved bone roses. The only other adornment she wears is a simple gold band upon her left ring finger--one which holds a small yet vibrant emerald jewel.
Escaping the clutches of ribbons and skirts, she wears clothing more suited for a young man than a young woman: sturdy doeskin breeches dyed a dark, loamy brown a muslin shirt the color of fresh-churned cream with lacings at the throat and cuffs, and a brown sueded leather vest with carved horn buttons. Finishing it all off, a pair of high leather boots that have the appropriate measure of scrapes, scuffs, and water stains, but which look to be quite sturdy, and exceptionally comfortable.
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Ivera
A hobbit girl standing around 2 feet and 10 inches tall. Her sandy curls are pulled back loosely and hang just past her shoulders. She wears a dark brown dress with a pattern of dark green ivy along the bottom hem to match the color of her eyes.
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Boldibad
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.
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Stock Road
The peaceful wood grows deeper here, the trees encroaching on the path, their branches forming a canopy above. Off in the distance you hear a couple of birds whistling to each other. They seem to you almost like two distinct voices performing a duet and you stop to listen for a while. First one calls out then the other responds and then the first calls out again. A small rustling in the underbrush near you startles you out of your daydream. However it turns out to be nothing but a couple of squirrels running playfully along the path. As you take in this breathtaking scene you smell the sweet aroma of the many wildflowers that grow in these woods and off in the distance you swear you can hear a babbling brook.The road continues east and west as far as the eye can see.Contents:
Malorie
Ivera
Obvious exits:
South leads to Pincup.
West leads to Stock Road, Outside Tuckborough.
East leads to Stock Road.
A light, chilly wind blows through the trees along Stock Road this evening. Luckily, the persistent rain seems to have let up for the time being, though the road is rather soggy in certain parts. Faint lights from the town of Pincup, to the south, reveal a gentlehobbit making his way toward the woody path, grumbling as he dodges puddles here and there.
Enjoying a break from the rain, Ivera has found a dry patch of grass under a tree. While she sits and nibbles from a cookie, she notices that someone is coming towards her. Though she knows not who it is, she feels slightly nervous, as she doesn't know anything of the area. Keeping her attention on her cookie, she makes certain not to stare too long.
Farther down the road from where Ivera sits--where the trees crowd to a copse along the side of the road--a faint waft of smoke curls from behind thick, upraised branches. A cough is heard, then the sputter of a word not often heard in polite company...
After a long row of curses and wordless exclamations, Boldibad finally arrives at the intersection, somewhat close to where Ivera is sitting, though he doesn't seem to notice her in the darkness. He stops for a moment, smells the air, and begins looking around until he sees the smoke rising from the trees. Before he can make any guess as to the source of the fire, the fellow sinks a bare foot into a thick bit of mud, and cries, "Well, of all the dirty, rotten, mushroom-burning things that can happen--I'll be a Took's uncle, if that doesn't clump up in my foothair," apparently speaking aloud to himself, and shaking off his foot vigorously.
Ivera, hearing the noise in the woods past her, stands up quickly dropping her cookie, obiously startled. She then hears a familiar voice just on the other side of her.
"Master Bolger! Imagine running into you here!" Trying to brush dirt off the back of her dress, she peers into the darkness where she heard the voice just before. "I'm not positive, but I do believe there is someone else coming our way, though I don't see them, I have heard /something/ that way," she says as she points down the path.
Red flows the Brandywine with flame the river kindles,
as sun sinks beyond the Shire, and then to grey it dwindles.
*Thud!*
It very much sounds like a sack of grain dropped to the ground. A moment later, however, the Breeguard Malorie comes into view, puffing at a pipe and scowling at the sodden pouch of pipeweed she holds--which appears to have met with a murky puddle.
As she sees the two Hobbits, her disgruntlement grows and she draws to a halt.
"The trees here are most unfit to perch upon," she declares. "...But what are you staring at?"
Upon first hearing his name, Boldibad also becomes quite startled, and stumbles backwards, nearly falling in the mud. "Who's there--miss Pott? Oh dear me," he frets, and blushes, though perhaps it isn't noticed in the growing darkness of night. "I knew I should have borrowed a lantern in Pincup... I do hope you didn't hear me, a gentlehobbit just shouldn't say things like that in front of a--" he trails off as he hears the thud, and peers in that direction. Upon seeing the human, he stumbles again and, this time, does fall backward, into the mud, "Oof!"
Noticing the human rather quickly, Ivera takes a step--or four--back. Hurrying over to Boldibad she begins to help him up.
"Wasn't staring at anything miss, just trying to enjoy my cookies," she says as she grabs ahold of Boldibads forearm, trying to help him out of the mud. Feeling a bit uneasy, as this is her fisrt encounter with a human, she gives him a look of uneasiness.
Raising an eyebrow at the gentlehobbit's fall, Malorie sniffs and eyes him with a peculiar twist of a smile. "I'm a Breeguard, not a beast," she says in mild reproof.
She glances quickly at the sopping pouch of pipeweed in her hand, then back at the others as the Hobbit lass assists the one from the mud. "Malorie Blackroot, Breeguard." A pause, and then she half coughs as she mutters the rest. "Atyourservice."
Making use of the assistance, and putting most of his weight on his own legs, Boldibad makes his way back to his feet. Obviously, he's too surprised at the moment to offer a thank you--his attention seems to be on Malorie. "Bree?" He glances at Ivera, and after a moment, lets out a sigh of relief. "Breeguard. Well! I had thought you to be one of those strange big-folk been coming in from the South, but... well, you appear to have the accent of a Bree person." He chuckles then, only slightly uneasy now, and attempts to brush some of the mud off the back of his waistcoat and trousers.
"Well!" he says, "In that case, Ms.--er, Blackroot? You must have taken a wrong turn. I do believe the Bree-folk encampment is all the way east, in Buckland--if they are still there, even. Oh! Where are my manners? Boldibad Bolger of Budge Ford," though he seems to forget to mention that he's at anyone's service right now.
Taking ease in Boldibad's confidence, Ivera relaxes a bit. Turning to the human, "Hello, miss. My name is Ivera, from Michel Delving, if you know where that is." Taking a few more steps back, she now stands slightly behind Mr. Bolger. Not really knowing what to say, she stares awkwardly at the ground, waiting for someone else to speak.
After a few moments she asks, "So...what may I ask are you doing here? There's been quite a bit of trouble with your kind lately."
"Bree...by way of Archet," Malorie says in response to Boldibad's musings--as if that's supposed to be an explanation for something. Indeed, her accent is a tad more 'rustic' than those of Bree proper.
"Aye'n I don't think it's a wrong turn to want a bit of privacy and enjoy a smoke?"
And now she looks to Ivera, as if to address her concerns in that answer as well. "Trouble? I've heard of none. What trouble has there been....lately?"
Boldibad hems, glancing toward the village of Pincup as if expecting other hobbits to come trudging toward the intersection. Nobody does, however--it remains two hobbits and a human on the secluded, darkening road. "Well," he says, tucking a hand into a pocket in the waistcoat, "I've been to Bree a couple of months ago. You must forgive my excitement, as I was, unfortunately, led to the top of Bree-Hill and robbed of two antique rings--by a hooded big-folk, or human I suppose I should say." He puts up his hands and quickly adds, "Not that I'm accusing you, of course... you don't fit the description! And, I suppose a Breeguard can be trusted as much as the next Bree resident--or even as much as Brandybuck!" He covers his mouth and coughs, turning around to Ivera and whispering, "That is, if she -is- a Breeguard."
"As far as trouble in the Shire goes, well, we've had incidents... though our Bounders and shirriffs are always close by to take care of such things, aheh..."
Laughing quietly at Boldibad's comment, she turns her attention to the Bree guard.
"I'm sorry for assuming anything I shouldn't have--sheltered little Shire hobbit I am." Taking another cookie from her pocket she begins to eat it, more out of nervousness than hunger. Ivera looks from Boldibad to Malorie, "Pretty delicious for something made by a Took, I've more if you'd like?"
As Boldibad turns a glance towards Pincup, Malorie looks over her shoulder as well. She puffs twice on her pipe, then takes it into her hand and taps it against her palm. The ruined pouch of pipeweed is dropped to the ground at her feet.
Sniffing, Malorie turns back to the two Hobbits as Ivera offers a gentle apology...and then a cookie.
Though the Breeguard's glance lingers upon the offered confection, Malorie shakes her head. "You say you were robbed upon Bree-Hill?" she says suddenly to Boldibad. "Aye, but that's a costly view." Again, there is that twist of a smile. "I'd have told you as much."
Boldibad smiles, "Thank you, Miss Pott--I've never turned down a Tookie, as the locals call them, once in my life." One might find it interesting that some hobbits could momentarily forget about anything that's going on when food is involved. "Er," he continues to Malorie, "and yes, I was indeed robbed. The thief even pushed me into a rock, sending me to sleep." He rubs his head and sighs. "But, I suppose it was just a bit of bad luck--I have reason to believe the thief wasn't a native of the Bree-lands."
After handing Boldibad a few Tookies, she places the rest in one of pockets. Turning her attention back to the human, Ivera says "If you travel down this road a bit further into Tuckborough, there is a pipe weed shop where you can replace the bag ruined by that there puddle!" Giving a small chuckle, she looks to Boldibad, she adds, "You're lucky all they took was a few rings. I've heard tale of hobbits robbed of all their posessions, including the shirt off of their back."
A glint of interest glimmers in Malorie's eyes as Boldibad recounts his unfortunate encounter, though as the tale is concluded, the young woman's gaze narrows and she appears somewhat distracted as she looks back down the road.
With Ivera's helpful chatter, however, Malorie is tugged back into circle of their conversation. "A pipeweed shop, you say?" she wonders. "Aye...I'll have a look there." Then, she addresses both Hobbits. "It's always a risk, travelling outside the Shire, isn't it?"
The Breeguard draws in a long breath, then clears her throat. "Well, I'd best get back to 'my kind' in Buckland, eh?" She chuckles softly, places her pipe back for a puff, and turns to leave.
Boldibad nods, taking a more confident step forward as the Bree-folk turns to leave, "Not that you aren't welcome in the Tooklands, Ms. Blackfoot--was it? But, you wouldn't want to miss the caravan if they'd decide to leave early!" He waves and calls to Malorie's back, "A pleasant evening to you--mind Farmer Maggot's dogs if you pass by that way! They don't take kindly to strangers--er, visitors!"
Malorie can be heard to laugh as she looks back over her shoulder. She nods at the helpful Boldibad and continues on her way...
[+SET] Malorie goes Out Of Character.
End.
