Elendor
An evening in the Blue Goose
Boldibad and Torebras enjoy the comforts of Bucklebury's inn, until Aremtad enters and starts talking about Strange Noises
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Blue Goose Inn, Buckland
Game Date: October 3048 (Winterfilth 1448)
IC Time: Evening
Description: Blue Goose Inn
A large and spacious bed and breakfast, this is the only inn in Buckland. The corner nearest the door contains a huge fireplace, boasting a roaring fire. Numerous tables and chairs made of solid oak are scattered across the inn, and on the west wall a large bar is lined with worn stools bolted to the floor. The tables are decorated with pale blue tableloths and small arrangements of Bucklebury daisies and wildflowers. A narrow staircase snakes upward to a small reception area. Topaz handles the establishment, pouring drinks and waiting tables.
You can tell this is the only inn in Buckland! The tables are packed, filled with all sorts of fellows, happily resting, and drinking a pint after a day of hard work. The barkeep is busy at work pouring out the drinks, while a musician plays for coppers in front of the fire.
Obvious exits:
Upstairs leads to Upstairs Hall, Blue Goose Inn.
Out leads to Bucklebury.
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Wed Dec 23 14:38:16 2009 (+time).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 23:54:48 on Trewsday, Winterfilth (October) 4, 1448 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
Puddles of cold water are dotted all around, and every few minutes another light shower adds to the water soaking the Shire. The sky is veiled in cloud, hiding any trace of the moon.
===============================================================================
A hand-full of hobbits take refuge this chilly night in the tavern, one or two going to stoke the fire every so often. Rain patters against the window for a few moments at a time, and even an occasional gust of wind can be heard rushing by outside. Boldibad sits at the bar, a steaming cup cradled in his hands.
Torebras Bywater stands out incongruously amongst the locals, as much for his choice of vittles as for his clothes, which are soberly-coloured as ever. He picks absently through the last few morsels of a plate of grilled fish, and sips delicately at a glass of fragrant white wine. Once the last of the food is gone he rises and, leaving the empty plate behind, heads for the bar. "A glass of ... lets see, the Headstrong Marigold this time. What? I was assured that the Headstrong winery had delivered a full assortment of casks for the wine festival. Perhaps if you were just to check ..." At the pretty young hobbit-lass's shake of the head he sighs and states in long-suffering tone, "Another glass of the Old Forest White, then. Which is of course a fine wine in itself ..." It's then that he spots Boldibad, and offers him a polite nod. "Why, good evening - Mister Bolger, wasn't it? Congratulations on your recent success in the baked goods contest."
Boldibad looks over toward Torebras and waves his hand, "'Evening, Mr. Bywater. Thank you! It's an old recipe I got from an aunt of mine--you won't find cooking like hers in Buckland, no sir. I've lived here for the past few years, I should know!" He takes a sip from his cup and says, "And congratulations to your mother. Which reminds me, I didn't know you were Mr. Brandebras' brother! I found out at the festival."
"At the mention of his younger brother, Torebras winces. "Ah yes, young Brandebras," he says airily. "He's a good lad, but a little ... excitable, if you get my drift. A little ..." He taps his forehead significantly. "You said you're a Buckland local? I thought the Bolgers were up yonder." He waves his arm vaguely north - or it could be west. Who keeps track of directions inside an inn?
Boldibad says, "Well, all lads his age are easily excited. He's an inventive chap, though, I'll give him that. He devised some type of intricate trap to catch a vegetable thief, if I remember correctly. I suppose a young gentlehobbit could spend his time better at his trade, or improving his family name, but that's youth!" He nods his head, "Yes, most of my family live up in Budge Ford, but I came down here for better access to some old trinkets in this area--Buckland is a mysterious place, you know. Has quite some interesting history." He picks up his cup again, and adds, "I live right over on Ferry Lane."
The rain rattles intermittently against the windows. Autumn is definitely making itself felt - scarce wonder that only a handful of hobbits have taken refuge in the Blue Goose Inn this evening. Torebras and Boldibad over at the bar are amongst them.
Torebras brows raise a fraction at Boldibad's words. "A what?" He shakes his head. "Dear me. In my time as Mayor, such a thing would never have happened. So did young Brandebras catch the thief? He certainly makes up in enthusiasm what he lacks in .. ah, dignity."
At this point Topaz arrives with the wine, which Torebras receives with a polite murmur of thanks. He sips once and sighs. "Ahh. A fine vintage. From the Headstrong Vineyard, no less - an excellent little winery, if I may say. Have you tried their wines yet?" Only then does he think to address the other topic. "You sound quite the expert in things ancient and venerable. As a newcomer myself, I'd be most interested in hearing about Buckland's past."
Boldibad shakes his head, "I never did find out. He did catch a knock on the head, however--I had been swinging a stick, just out of boredom on a little stroll through town, and, for some reason, took a swing at a nearby bush. Well, there he was, ducking among the leaves, and I got him one good. I believe he was making some fine adjustments, it was all very complicated." Then, he chuckles, and replies, "Yet? Why, we have bottles of Ol' Winyards almost as old as myself in Bolger Smial's cellar!"
Boldibad shrugs, "I am interested in antiques, but am often quite busy. I can point you to some libraries where you might find some interesting things on Shire history."
Torebras' brows furrow as he listens to Boldibad's tale, and a peculiar expression comes over his face. He seems to be having trouble deciding whether to be outraged or amused. In the end he settles for neither, speaking instead on the rather simpler topic of wine. "Ah, a connoisseur. Some of the Headstrong Winery's younger vintages are rather good too. I'm particularly partial to their ice-wine. Of course, with all this wet weather, harvest is likely to be poor and that will drive prices up ..." His expression turns gloomy, and he sips again at his wine to console himself.
He brightens at the talk of libraries. "Why, that would be capital! I must say, it is refreshing to have the leisure to pursue such matters."
Boldibad nods, "Well, one of the best is located just down the road. The Brandybucks have some fine books on the subject--and the librarian there knows quite a bit about everything, it seems." He takes a sip of his tea and reaches for his pipe. "And, speaking of wine, will you be attending the upcoming Wine Festival?"
With the rain gushing outside, steps could be heard outside. Rather loud ones - someone is running, rushing closer to the main enterance of the tavern. Soon enough, the door was pulled open. Three humans were in the doorway. One of them would be recognizble to some of the people in this little tavern. One of them was Aremtad. He was wearing a small coat over himself, to protect him from the heavy outside that is hitting these lands. His rather sudden appearance raised an eyebrow or two, but not as much as it normally did in the Shire. Though, his somewhat heavy breathing (From the running) was seen as an annoyance by many, soon enough the tavern returned to it's normal state, as the patrons once again returned to their normal topics of conversation, perhaps only a few whispers about the strangers in the tavern.
Torebras looks quite surprised at that question. "Why, of course! Being a resident of Newbury as I am ... I do like to support local business, you know." His own financial interest in this particular 'local business' is not mentioned. "And yourself, Mister Bolger? I do hope to see you there.
The sound of the door opening halts his words, and the hobbit blinks in Aremtad's direction. "Dear me, Mister- ah, honoured visitor, you do seem quite a hurry. I hope something unpleasant wasn't chasing at your heels?"
Boldibad nods approvingly, "Well, that's just fine, Mr. Bywater. I'll look out for you when the day comes!" He begins to say something else, but his attention is turned to the newcomers. He squints at one of them for a moment and then recognition fills his face. "Ahh," he says, tapping Torebras' shoulder, "That's Mr. Flaxenhair--a man from your Bree." He stands up and waves, "Good evening, sir--over here!"
Looking at the direction of Torebras and Boldibad, he shakes his head as he calms down, and walks by their table. He says, "Good evening! Though, nothing dangerous in my heels - I am merely trying to escape the rain, which obviously..", he looks down upon himself, looking quite disappointed at something, "I have failed to do. Though, I must admit. The sounds on the road at night.. I heard some strange things, though, but let's leave it at that.". He then smiled at them and said, "Well, gentlemen, how are you faring?".
Torebras frowns in annoyance - whether at the familiarity of the tap on his shoulder or the invitation to Aremtad, who knows? "Flaxenhair," he murmurs thoughtfully, then, "Ah yes. The family kept very much to themselves, if I remember rightly." That is all he has time for before Aremtad himself is at their side.
He follows the direction of Aremtad's glance, and manages a polite smile. "A good umbrella is much to be recommended. I fear that autumn has not been kind to us this year. Why, I can't recall such a wet one back in Bree!" The topic of Strange Sounds is carefully skirted instead he says, "I don't believe we have been introduced. "I am Mister Torebras Bywater, formerly of Bree and now a resident of Newbury. I gather you are a Bree citizen yourself?"
Boldibad packs a pinch of pipeweed into the bowl of his pipe and reclaims his seat at the bar. "You weren't anywhere near that Old Forest, were you? The Brandybucks tell some awfully strange tales of that creepy old wood. If it weren't for the High Hay, why, we'd no doubt be over-run by terrible things." He finds a flint-n-steel and puts a spark to the contents of his pipe as the others become acquainted.
Aremtad smiled at Torebras and said, "Indeed, an umbrella would come much in handy in these kind of things.". When Torebras introduced himself, he looked at him, and blinked, "My name is Aremtad Flaxenhair, pleased to meet you.. but I'm sure I know you from somewhere before, but it escapes me.". He then chuckles, and says, "Yes, a Bree citizen. Though, I feel home in this land as much as I do on the Bree-hill, of no fault of my own, may I add.". He then turned to Boldibad, and said, "Yes, we were perhaps wandering a bit too close to it in the evening, but we heard about the evilness of it quite early on when we passed in to the Shire.". He then raised an eyebrow at said, "As far as I take it..", he blinks a couple of times again, "These Bucklanders are the most.. hardiest of Hobbits?".
Torebras acknowledges Aremtad's greeting with a nod, and doesn't elaborate on where Aremtad might have seen him. He shivers at the mention of the Old Forest this is quickly hidden by some sips of his wine. In the end he answers the final comment. "Speaking from personal experience, Mister Flaxenhair, I find the Bucklanders a very pleasant folk, most welcoming and accommodating to a gentlehobbit of my station. Why, the .. ahem, reputation they have in some quarters is quite unjustified!"
The diminutive hostess is suddenly beside the table, smiling up at the two hobbits. Her smile dims a little as she turns it towards the human - he is so very /large/ - but she manages not to back away. "Is there something I could get for you?" she asks. Asks them all, of course, though she is looking at Boldibad as she speaks.
Boldibad clears his throat noisily, behind his hand. "Some may say hardy--others say foolhardy. But, I personally agree with Mr. Bywater. A pleasant people, indeed." He turns to Topaz, "Thank you, Topaz--I'll have another cup of tea, if I could!"
Torebras looks at his glass, at the pretty waitress, and at his glass again. It is with great reluctance that he says, "Thank you, Miss Brownlock, but I think I should probably retire for the night after I've finished this glass. I find myself quite fatigued, I'm glad I decided to break my journey here. The Blue Goose is so comfortable!" A rather forced smile accompanies that declaration.
He hesitates, then after a moment asks his two fellow-hobbits, "You don't - ah, have any trouble from the Old Forest here in Bucklebury?" He looks quite uncomfortable at the mere thought of it.
Boldibad nods, "Yes, quite comfortable. And," he adds with a chuckle, "don't worry too much about anything coming in from the Old Forest. Like I said, the High Hay keeps us pretty safe. But, should you ever go in there, you may never come out... folks tell tales about the woods being alive. The trails change as you go along, making it impossible to get anywhere." He puffs on his pipe thoughtfully, "So I hear."
Topaz's expression is much more natural when she isn't being loomed over. She nods to both and starts to turn away when Torebras asks his question. "Of course not!" she says indignantly, turning back. "Nothing can get through .." Boldibad forestalls her. ".. the High Hay."
Thunder cracks outside.
"Oh come, come. Trees can't move," Torebras protests to Boldibad, rather feebly. His features are looking a little pale, and he drains the last of his wine in a gulp. Then he stands. "Now, if you'll excuse me ... Good evening to you all, Mister Bolger, Mister Flaxenhair, Miss Brownlock." His gaze lingers on Topaz' reassuringly normal hobbit figure, with those pretty features and neat brown braids, and the tip he leaves on the table is a particularly good one. Then he's off toward one of the guest rooms.
He starts at a normal pace, but when the crack of thunder comes he fairly scurries away. Will he dream of walking trees and malevolent thunder-giants? Who can say.
Boldibad nods, "Good night, Mr. Bwater."
Topaz watches after Torebras, then grins. "Bit scared there, wasn't he?" she comments. "Wonder if he'll dream about trees chasing him down?"
Boldibad removes his pipe from his teeth and chuckles a bit. "Seemed like it, eh? The worst those Breefolk have to put up with are big-people. Most of them wouldn't survive a month in a place like Buckland!" He gets up out of his seat and holds up a hand, "Cancel that tea, if you haven't poured it already. It's getting rather late, and I'd better not keep myself up any longer. Good night, and see you in the morning, I suppose!"
Topaz nods, a little look of disappointment on her face. But she shrugs philosophically. Another day, another sale. "I hope you sleep well," she says. "No bad dreams!"
A large and spacious bed and breakfast, this is the only inn in Buckland. The corner nearest the door contains a huge fireplace, boasting a roaring fire. Numerous tables and chairs made of solid oak are scattered across the inn, and on the west wall a large bar is lined with worn stools bolted to the floor. The tables are decorated with pale blue tableloths and small arrangements of Bucklebury daisies and wildflowers. A narrow staircase snakes upward to a small reception area. Topaz handles the establishment, pouring drinks and waiting tables.
You can tell this is the only inn in Buckland! The tables are packed, filled with all sorts of fellows, happily resting, and drinking a pint after a day of hard work. The barkeep is busy at work pouring out the drinks, while a musician plays for coppers in front of the fire.
Obvious exits:
Upstairs leads to Upstairs Hall, Blue Goose Inn.
Out leads to Bucklebury.
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Wed Dec 23 14:38:16 2009 (+time).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 23:54:48 on Trewsday, Winterfilth (October) 4, 1448 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
Puddles of cold water are dotted all around, and every few minutes another light shower adds to the water soaking the Shire. The sky is veiled in cloud, hiding any trace of the moon.
===============================================================================
A hand-full of hobbits take refuge this chilly night in the tavern, one or two going to stoke the fire every so often. Rain patters against the window for a few moments at a time, and even an occasional gust of wind can be heard rushing by outside. Boldibad sits at the bar, a steaming cup cradled in his hands.
Torebras Bywater stands out incongruously amongst the locals, as much for his choice of vittles as for his clothes, which are soberly-coloured as ever. He picks absently through the last few morsels of a plate of grilled fish, and sips delicately at a glass of fragrant white wine. Once the last of the food is gone he rises and, leaving the empty plate behind, heads for the bar. "A glass of ... lets see, the Headstrong Marigold this time. What? I was assured that the Headstrong winery had delivered a full assortment of casks for the wine festival. Perhaps if you were just to check ..." At the pretty young hobbit-lass's shake of the head he sighs and states in long-suffering tone, "Another glass of the Old Forest White, then. Which is of course a fine wine in itself ..." It's then that he spots Boldibad, and offers him a polite nod. "Why, good evening - Mister Bolger, wasn't it? Congratulations on your recent success in the baked goods contest."
Boldibad looks over toward Torebras and waves his hand, "'Evening, Mr. Bywater. Thank you! It's an old recipe I got from an aunt of mine--you won't find cooking like hers in Buckland, no sir. I've lived here for the past few years, I should know!" He takes a sip from his cup and says, "And congratulations to your mother. Which reminds me, I didn't know you were Mr. Brandebras' brother! I found out at the festival."
"At the mention of his younger brother, Torebras winces. "Ah yes, young Brandebras," he says airily. "He's a good lad, but a little ... excitable, if you get my drift. A little ..." He taps his forehead significantly. "You said you're a Buckland local? I thought the Bolgers were up yonder." He waves his arm vaguely north - or it could be west. Who keeps track of directions inside an inn?
Boldibad says, "Well, all lads his age are easily excited. He's an inventive chap, though, I'll give him that. He devised some type of intricate trap to catch a vegetable thief, if I remember correctly. I suppose a young gentlehobbit could spend his time better at his trade, or improving his family name, but that's youth!" He nods his head, "Yes, most of my family live up in Budge Ford, but I came down here for better access to some old trinkets in this area--Buckland is a mysterious place, you know. Has quite some interesting history." He picks up his cup again, and adds, "I live right over on Ferry Lane."
The rain rattles intermittently against the windows. Autumn is definitely making itself felt - scarce wonder that only a handful of hobbits have taken refuge in the Blue Goose Inn this evening. Torebras and Boldibad over at the bar are amongst them.
Torebras brows raise a fraction at Boldibad's words. "A what?" He shakes his head. "Dear me. In my time as Mayor, such a thing would never have happened. So did young Brandebras catch the thief? He certainly makes up in enthusiasm what he lacks in .. ah, dignity."
At this point Topaz arrives with the wine, which Torebras receives with a polite murmur of thanks. He sips once and sighs. "Ahh. A fine vintage. From the Headstrong Vineyard, no less - an excellent little winery, if I may say. Have you tried their wines yet?" Only then does he think to address the other topic. "You sound quite the expert in things ancient and venerable. As a newcomer myself, I'd be most interested in hearing about Buckland's past."
Boldibad shakes his head, "I never did find out. He did catch a knock on the head, however--I had been swinging a stick, just out of boredom on a little stroll through town, and, for some reason, took a swing at a nearby bush. Well, there he was, ducking among the leaves, and I got him one good. I believe he was making some fine adjustments, it was all very complicated." Then, he chuckles, and replies, "Yet? Why, we have bottles of Ol' Winyards almost as old as myself in Bolger Smial's cellar!"
Boldibad shrugs, "I am interested in antiques, but am often quite busy. I can point you to some libraries where you might find some interesting things on Shire history."
Torebras' brows furrow as he listens to Boldibad's tale, and a peculiar expression comes over his face. He seems to be having trouble deciding whether to be outraged or amused. In the end he settles for neither, speaking instead on the rather simpler topic of wine. "Ah, a connoisseur. Some of the Headstrong Winery's younger vintages are rather good too. I'm particularly partial to their ice-wine. Of course, with all this wet weather, harvest is likely to be poor and that will drive prices up ..." His expression turns gloomy, and he sips again at his wine to console himself.
He brightens at the talk of libraries. "Why, that would be capital! I must say, it is refreshing to have the leisure to pursue such matters."
Boldibad nods, "Well, one of the best is located just down the road. The Brandybucks have some fine books on the subject--and the librarian there knows quite a bit about everything, it seems." He takes a sip of his tea and reaches for his pipe. "And, speaking of wine, will you be attending the upcoming Wine Festival?"
With the rain gushing outside, steps could be heard outside. Rather loud ones - someone is running, rushing closer to the main enterance of the tavern. Soon enough, the door was pulled open. Three humans were in the doorway. One of them would be recognizble to some of the people in this little tavern. One of them was Aremtad. He was wearing a small coat over himself, to protect him from the heavy outside that is hitting these lands. His rather sudden appearance raised an eyebrow or two, but not as much as it normally did in the Shire. Though, his somewhat heavy breathing (From the running) was seen as an annoyance by many, soon enough the tavern returned to it's normal state, as the patrons once again returned to their normal topics of conversation, perhaps only a few whispers about the strangers in the tavern.
Torebras looks quite surprised at that question. "Why, of course! Being a resident of Newbury as I am ... I do like to support local business, you know." His own financial interest in this particular 'local business' is not mentioned. "And yourself, Mister Bolger? I do hope to see you there.
The sound of the door opening halts his words, and the hobbit blinks in Aremtad's direction. "Dear me, Mister- ah, honoured visitor, you do seem quite a hurry. I hope something unpleasant wasn't chasing at your heels?"
Boldibad nods approvingly, "Well, that's just fine, Mr. Bywater. I'll look out for you when the day comes!" He begins to say something else, but his attention is turned to the newcomers. He squints at one of them for a moment and then recognition fills his face. "Ahh," he says, tapping Torebras' shoulder, "That's Mr. Flaxenhair--a man from your Bree." He stands up and waves, "Good evening, sir--over here!"
Looking at the direction of Torebras and Boldibad, he shakes his head as he calms down, and walks by their table. He says, "Good evening! Though, nothing dangerous in my heels - I am merely trying to escape the rain, which obviously..", he looks down upon himself, looking quite disappointed at something, "I have failed to do. Though, I must admit. The sounds on the road at night.. I heard some strange things, though, but let's leave it at that.". He then smiled at them and said, "Well, gentlemen, how are you faring?".
Torebras frowns in annoyance - whether at the familiarity of the tap on his shoulder or the invitation to Aremtad, who knows? "Flaxenhair," he murmurs thoughtfully, then, "Ah yes. The family kept very much to themselves, if I remember rightly." That is all he has time for before Aremtad himself is at their side.
He follows the direction of Aremtad's glance, and manages a polite smile. "A good umbrella is much to be recommended. I fear that autumn has not been kind to us this year. Why, I can't recall such a wet one back in Bree!" The topic of Strange Sounds is carefully skirted instead he says, "I don't believe we have been introduced. "I am Mister Torebras Bywater, formerly of Bree and now a resident of Newbury. I gather you are a Bree citizen yourself?"
Boldibad packs a pinch of pipeweed into the bowl of his pipe and reclaims his seat at the bar. "You weren't anywhere near that Old Forest, were you? The Brandybucks tell some awfully strange tales of that creepy old wood. If it weren't for the High Hay, why, we'd no doubt be over-run by terrible things." He finds a flint-n-steel and puts a spark to the contents of his pipe as the others become acquainted.
Aremtad smiled at Torebras and said, "Indeed, an umbrella would come much in handy in these kind of things.". When Torebras introduced himself, he looked at him, and blinked, "My name is Aremtad Flaxenhair, pleased to meet you.. but I'm sure I know you from somewhere before, but it escapes me.". He then chuckles, and says, "Yes, a Bree citizen. Though, I feel home in this land as much as I do on the Bree-hill, of no fault of my own, may I add.". He then turned to Boldibad, and said, "Yes, we were perhaps wandering a bit too close to it in the evening, but we heard about the evilness of it quite early on when we passed in to the Shire.". He then raised an eyebrow at said, "As far as I take it..", he blinks a couple of times again, "These Bucklanders are the most.. hardiest of Hobbits?".
Torebras acknowledges Aremtad's greeting with a nod, and doesn't elaborate on where Aremtad might have seen him. He shivers at the mention of the Old Forest this is quickly hidden by some sips of his wine. In the end he answers the final comment. "Speaking from personal experience, Mister Flaxenhair, I find the Bucklanders a very pleasant folk, most welcoming and accommodating to a gentlehobbit of my station. Why, the .. ahem, reputation they have in some quarters is quite unjustified!"
The diminutive hostess is suddenly beside the table, smiling up at the two hobbits. Her smile dims a little as she turns it towards the human - he is so very /large/ - but she manages not to back away. "Is there something I could get for you?" she asks. Asks them all, of course, though she is looking at Boldibad as she speaks.
Boldibad clears his throat noisily, behind his hand. "Some may say hardy--others say foolhardy. But, I personally agree with Mr. Bywater. A pleasant people, indeed." He turns to Topaz, "Thank you, Topaz--I'll have another cup of tea, if I could!"
Torebras looks at his glass, at the pretty waitress, and at his glass again. It is with great reluctance that he says, "Thank you, Miss Brownlock, but I think I should probably retire for the night after I've finished this glass. I find myself quite fatigued, I'm glad I decided to break my journey here. The Blue Goose is so comfortable!" A rather forced smile accompanies that declaration.
He hesitates, then after a moment asks his two fellow-hobbits, "You don't - ah, have any trouble from the Old Forest here in Bucklebury?" He looks quite uncomfortable at the mere thought of it.
Boldibad nods, "Yes, quite comfortable. And," he adds with a chuckle, "don't worry too much about anything coming in from the Old Forest. Like I said, the High Hay keeps us pretty safe. But, should you ever go in there, you may never come out... folks tell tales about the woods being alive. The trails change as you go along, making it impossible to get anywhere." He puffs on his pipe thoughtfully, "So I hear."
Topaz's expression is much more natural when she isn't being loomed over. She nods to both and starts to turn away when Torebras asks his question. "Of course not!" she says indignantly, turning back. "Nothing can get through .." Boldibad forestalls her. ".. the High Hay."
Thunder cracks outside.
"Oh come, come. Trees can't move," Torebras protests to Boldibad, rather feebly. His features are looking a little pale, and he drains the last of his wine in a gulp. Then he stands. "Now, if you'll excuse me ... Good evening to you all, Mister Bolger, Mister Flaxenhair, Miss Brownlock." His gaze lingers on Topaz' reassuringly normal hobbit figure, with those pretty features and neat brown braids, and the tip he leaves on the table is a particularly good one. Then he's off toward one of the guest rooms.
He starts at a normal pace, but when the crack of thunder comes he fairly scurries away. Will he dream of walking trees and malevolent thunder-giants? Who can say.
Boldibad nods, "Good night, Mr. Bwater."
Topaz watches after Torebras, then grins. "Bit scared there, wasn't he?" she comments. "Wonder if he'll dream about trees chasing him down?"
Boldibad removes his pipe from his teeth and chuckles a bit. "Seemed like it, eh? The worst those Breefolk have to put up with are big-people. Most of them wouldn't survive a month in a place like Buckland!" He gets up out of his seat and holds up a hand, "Cancel that tea, if you haven't poured it already. It's getting rather late, and I'd better not keep myself up any longer. Good night, and see you in the morning, I suppose!"
Topaz nods, a little look of disappointment on her face. But she shrugs philosophically. Another day, another sale. "I hope you sleep well," she says. "No bad dreams!"
Players: Boldibad, Torebras, Aremtad, Topaz
