Elendor
Bushwhacking
Boldibad flushes an unexpected quarry, and two self-appointed 'Private Investigators' meet for the first time
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Bree - Garden
Game Date: July 3048
IC Time: Evening
Description: Garden(#31544Rto)
Summertime has settled comfortably on the Bree-lands. This small garden tucked away behind the Stone Houses of the Big Folk and down the hill from South Row is a testament to the hard work and care shown by the garderners who tend it. This garden has been divided up into small parcels, and really it only serves as a means of growing one or two plants for most of the gardeners. Most of the plants here are crops, like radishes, carrots or cabbages, though there are some decorative flowers also.
Obvious exits:
Toby Appledore's Back Door leads to Main Room.
West leads to Stone Houses.
Up leads to South Row.
================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Mon Nov 30 05:21:34 2009
Bree time: Dusk <20:04:42> on Trewsday of Summer - July 24,1448
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent Moon
Breelands Weather
The dusk summer air is very hot and dry around you. The murky sky is overcast and dreary.
===============================================================================
It's almost twilight, and the air is hot and heavy. Few birds sing tonight - perhaps the fat-bellied clouds looming overhead signify that a summer storm is on its way. For now, though, the weather stays dry and the garden remains a fine place to take a walk.
Brandebras Bywater is not walking. The youngish hobbit has wormed his way into a clump of bushes, and there he sits, a blank (if crumpled) piece of parchment on his knees and a stick of charcoal in his hands, watching one particular vegetable plot like a hawk. Well, not quite like a hawk - a cloud of midges has gathered above his head, and he scratches miserably.
The plot that has caught Brandebras' attention appears to have a network of cords and strings set around it.
[Boldibad(#22742)] Tap! Tap! Swish!
Another hobbit comes wandering into the garden at a lazy pace, looking down at the soily earth and swinging a crooked, little stick at various objects. He stops upon stepping into the area and takes a good look around. Smiling pleasantly, he continues into the garden, poking the stick idly into the ground here and there, as though deep in thought.
Boldibad comes to a clump of bushes, and randomly swings the stick at the shrubbery, heaving a deep sigh.
The swish is answered by a thump and a sudden yelp of pain, followed by a sudden thrashing as Brandebras tumbles back into the centre of the shrubbery. He rolls about, trying to free himself from clinging branches. "What - ouch! - do you think you're doing?" he demands indignantly of the air.
[Boldibad(#22742)] Startled, Boldibad drops the stick and leaps back a few steps.
"Hello! Er--terribly sorry." He peers at the bush, looking upon the splashes of yellow and orange clothing through the branches, twigs, and leaves. "Did I hit you? I didn't think anyone else was here. Are you alright, sir?"
"Yes .. I mean no .. at least, you hit my knee." Brandebras manages to sound quite mournful at this. He pulls his sleeve free of one bush -there is the ominous sound of cloth ripping, and he mumbles sadly, "Oh dear," before returning his attention to the hobbit before him. "You couldn't give me a hand up?" he enquires hopefully, adding with a blink, "Do I know you?"
Boldibad tsks, seeming to be somewhat ashamed at his own carelessness. He edges closer to the bushes and scrutinizes the branches carefully.
"I'd reach in to give you a hand, but I run the risk of tearing a hole in my new waistcoat. Ah! It seems your trousers are caught--I've an idea." He then reclaims the stick he came in with and, bending forward determinedly, pokes it through a gap in the plant and attempts to hook it onto the ripped fabric, clinging to one of the sharper twigs. He proceeds to push at the fabric in an attempt to dislodge it and free the stranger. "How's it coming--are you able to come out now?"
"Wait! What are you-?" Brandebras stares in consternation as a stick is poked towards him, and makes little noises of protest as Boldibad pushes at his nice trousers. "I don't think-" There is another tearing sound and the cloth comes free - most of it. A lone scrap of orange flutters forlornly on the bush.
Brandebras squirms his way free, leaving the rag behind, then rises to a standing position to brush himself off and survey his 'assailant'. "I don't think I do know you," he decides. "Are you an Ou- uh, I mean a visitor here?"
Boldibad, blushing now, throws the stick far over the bushes, to a location he'd be hard-pressed to find if he were ever to want it again. He steps back once again. "If you were going to say 'outsider,' then you are absolutely correct, for to you Bree-dwellers, that's just what I am. As far as my being a visitor goes, however, the time of pleasant visitation is over. Let's say I'm here as an... investigator, yes. And, even though I may not be a resident, might I inquire.....?" He gestures with a shift of his eyes toward the midge-favorite bushes.
"Then you must be from the Shire!" young Brandebras exclaims eagerly. "Do you know my brother Torebra-" The words fade into sheepish silence as the stranger-hobbit continues. "I ... um, I was trying to conduct a Private Investigation," he mumbles. "A steak-out, I think it's called. Though I didn't bring any steak, just a chicken pie - it's gone now. I thought if I could catch whoever's stealing Mrs Kettleston's vegetables, she might forget about the lettuces."
Boldibad nods, pushing up his chest slightly. "Yes, I am from the Shire--Bridgefields to be precise. And, this Torebras you refer to--he must be one of those Tooks, am I correct? Don't mix with that family, myself. Quite honestly, the lot of them are quite cracked--almost like those mad Bagginses of Hobbiton." Then, he crosses his arms, and continues with his next breath, "Well, what is this--an investigation or a picnic?"
Brandebras blinks and shakes his head. "No no, we're Bywaters," he answers. "A very /respectable/ family here, you know." And at the other question, the corners of his mouth droop. "It was supposed to be an investigation. I .. uh, I think I'd better go home and get some clean clothes now, though. And I've dropped my pencil." The parchment he'd been holding earlier flutters like a warning flag against one of the cords criss-crossing the nearby vegetable plot, but the charcoal could be any of at least a dozen pieces of stick lying round the edge of the shrubbery. "Were you investigating the Vegetable Stealer too, Mister Bridgefields?"
Boldibad's confusion seems to increase, and he's now scratching his head with a look of annoyance growing on his features.
"Bywaters? Why, we have a Bywater in the West Farthing--only it isn't a person, it's a -town-." He then half-smiles and lowers his arms again. "No matter--er, wait a moment! My name isn't Bridgefields, it's from where I hail! For the love of mushrooms, I've forgotten to introduce myself. Mr. Boldibad Bolger OF Bridgefields--Budge Ford to be exact, collector and dealer of fine antiques and pieces of hobbit history." He bows politely.
"Oh," say Brandebras, blinking anew - but then he returns the bow. "Pleased to meet you, Mister Bolger," he replies politely. "Brandebras Bywater, Messenger and Errand-Runner, at your service!" He beams, then adds happily, "Imagine the Shire naming a whole town after the family! I never knew that."
The other matter is, however, not forgotten. "So /were/ you investigating the Vegetable Thief, Mister Bolger? There must be one, otherwise Mrs Kettleston wouldn't have her plot all sealed off like that."
Boldibad returns the bow with a second bow, this one a little less formal. "Well met, Mr. 'Bywater.' May the hair on your toes never fall out. Though, I'm sure your family, doubtless a respectable one, derived their surname from our town! And, as a matter of fact, if you are a messenger, I may be in need of your service, which ties in with your second question."
Boldibad removes a pipe from his waistcoat, along with a pouch of pipeweed, and packs a pinch into the wooden bowl. "I'm searching for one of your Big-Folk. A despicable fellow, though he doesn't appear to be the type of rogue interested in thieving produce. You see, I've been the victim of a robbery--two rings of great value have been stolen from me."
At the mention of 'services', Brandebras draws himself up to his full height, brushing vainly at the mud on his trousers and the twigs tangled in his waistcoat in an effort to look more respectable. His mouth is open to speak when Boldibad continues - and he listens instead, mouth remaining open. "Oh my!" he exclaims. "How dreadful!" He pauses, thinking. "You know, Mister Bolger, there was a spate of thefts a few months back, they never did catch the person who'd done it. That was a Big Person too - someone saw a cloaked figure, and there were bootmarks round my smial. Did you get a good look at him?" He peers at his fellow-hobbit eagerly.
Boldibad strikes fire to the contents of his pipe and creates a cloud of wonderful-smelling smoke between the two hobbits. He pokes the package back in his waistcoat and removes the pipe from his teeth, sticking his free-hand in a pocket.
"Dreadful indeed--will you just look at this?" He gestures, with the stem of his pipe, to a dark-red scar, or gash, on his forehead, above the right eye. "Said his 'house' sat at the top of your Bree-Hill, and that his money was kept there. Once I noticed no dwellings up there, I knew I was in trouble."
Boldibad puffs on his pipe. "Yes, I did. Fellow was tall, broad-shouldered... wore a hood... deep voice. The only feature I caught on the face was a kind of twisted nose, probably broken at some point. It's all I could tell, before I fainted. Hit my head on the ground, and woke up with my goods missing."
Boldibad adds, "I was just ready to sell those goods and be on my way back to the Shire, too. Now, I'm stuck here until I find what's mine!"
Not even the clouds of smoke billowing from Boldibad's pipe can diminish Brandebras' interest. He leans forward to listen, coughing at one point when a particularly thick puff of smoke comes his way, then shakes his head. "What a dreadful business! To think that anyone in town could stoop to such levels! Though," he pauses thoughtfully, "I don't know anyone who fits that description. Not even among the Rangers - and you know /they're/ queer sorts."
His tongue stops running away for a minute, and there is blessed silence. But then the hobbit blurts out worriedly, "You said you had a message. You don't want /me/ to go up to the top of Bree Hill?"
Boldibad appears thoughtful for a moment.
"You know, Mr. Butterbur told me a few things about these rangers you speak of, and, from what I understand, they may have something to do with this. But, there are so many of these big-folks loose in this town, who in the Shire--er, Bree knows? Er--yes, I do have a message. You see, when I came to, I was awakened by a human child, name of Gidon. I hired the young fellow to watch the marketplace for anyone trying to get rid of my stolen rings." He puffs on his pipe. "Anyhow, I want to make sure he hasn't taken the initial payment I gave him and run off without doing his job! Do you have something I may write on?"
"Gidon?" Brandebras repeats. "The Leafthicket lad? You won't see him in town much - his folk are hunters. Live right out in the woods, near the Midgewater Marshes. It's," he lowers his voice and shudders, "not decent."
The request for writing materials sets him looking around. "Yes - I mean no - I mean .. oh, there it is." He spies his piece of parchment waving flaglike at the edge of Mrs Kettleston's plot, and picks up a stick, trying gingerly to lever it free without actually touching any of the cords. Otherwise, who knows what might happen?
Boldibad frowns, "He lives in the woods? How uncouth. Well, in any case, I intend to make the lad keep his word. I ran into a few Goodbodies who have agreed to travel back with me to the Shire, and I must solve this before we depart." He fumbles around his clothing until he finally finds and produces a small stick of charcoal. He then watches the other hobbit fish for the parchment, and, after a moment, furrows his brow. "Well, go on--just pull it free. Say, what is the purpose of all those strings, anyhow?"
Brandebras shakes his head silently, and goes on with his fumblings. Eventually he resorts to flipping the parchment up from underneath. The parchment itself flutters free, into Brandebras' waiting hand, but the stick has brushed against one of those complicated-looking cords. Immediately the cord pulls taut, a hidden loop in the ground snaps tight and a little bell hung on the gooseberry bush at the far end of the plot jangles. Brandebras, just outside the 'danger zone', looks immensely relieved to have escaped being caught. "It's to catch vegetable thieves," he explains to the visitor, stepping back to hand over the crumpled parchment. "It caught Toby Appledore the other day, someone said." He grins conspiratorially at that.
Boldibad laughs, delighted by the display. "How ingenious," he says. "You folks certainly do things quite differently in this land. Why, in the Shire, we have a farmer by the name of Maggot--keeps vicious dogs on his property. It's quite effective." He offers a pat on his new acquaintance's back and reaches for the parchment, preparing his charcoal in his right hand. "You know," he adds, smiling, "were it not apparent that you're busy with this endeavor, I would be pleased to hire you for my investigation as well. But, if you'll get my message to this... Leafthrower you say? Then, that should be good enough. Now, if I may have the parchment, and make use of your back, I shall not be more than a moment."
Brandebras, caught unawares, jumps a good half-foot at the pat on the back - or was it at the mention of vicious dogs? "I-" he stammers, "that is, I'd be very pleased to help whenever I can. I promise I'll keep my eyes open for you, Mister Bolger! And it's Gidon Leafthicket you were going to write to."
The other request brings a furrowing of his brow - aren't Shirefolk odd? - but after a moment he obediently turns round and leans forward with his hands on his knees, presenting a rather muddy-looking 'table'.
Boldibad straightens out the paper and smoothes it out over the Bree-hobbit's back. "Of course," he says in the process, "Leafthicket--isn't that what I said? I know who I'm going to write to, after all." He then begins making markings with the dull pencil, and, when apparantly finished, makes some sharp markings as creating dots and puncuation where needed. He then folds the paper, and tucks the charcoal back into his waistcoat. "Alright, here you are--come and see me once the letter is received. I'll pay you a little now, and a little more upon your return. I'm staying in the Prancing Pony--old Barliman can tell you exactly where." He offers the folded parchment.
Boldibad gave you Parchment.
Brandebras straightens up with an 'oof', and twists round to accept the parchment. "That sounds fine, Mister Bolger. Always happy to help." And to earn a few pennies, too. "Are you expecting a message back from young Master Leafthicket?"
Boldibad nods, "Glad to hear it, lad. And, I must say, my initial opinion of Bree-hobbits was certainly wrong--despite the rip in those fine trousers, the colors are certainly respectable--and you have the demeanor of a gentlehobbit of the Shire (down inside, that is). You should consider heading west, and taking up residence with us in Budge Ford!" He puffs, puffs on his pipe again, and replies, "A message back is not requested, but I would like to know that the fellow has received it. So, here is a little something now--and, as I said, once you return, I'll give you a little more."
Boldibad +gives you 8 Copper Pennies.
Brandebras looks very impressed by the flattery. "Really?" he murmurs, and then, "You know, I'd always planned on visiting Torebras someday ..." Perhaps Boldibad will regret making that particular remark about Budge Ford.
As the coins are handed over, Brandebras bobs his head. "Thank you very much, Mister Bolger. I'll deliver your message as fast as I can, and make sure that young Gidon reads it too!" He nods earnestly, though the fading light in the garden obscures it. "If you'll excuse me, I'd really better be going. I'll see you at the Prancing Pony, then." Raising a hand in farewell, he trots away - though whether to take the road to Archet or simply to have a nice hot bath and mend his trousers, who can say?
Boldibad waves his arm high in the air, "Good evening to you, Mr. Bywater! I'll be expecting you soon!"
Parchment(#21281Van)
GIDON LEAFTHROWER
Stay on track. Must watch marketplace for big people selling rings. Must talk to merchants dealing in jools. Contact me at Prancing Pony when information is found. Without information, more money cannot be paid. Counting on your help.
Signed,
Mr. Boldibad Bolger,
Bolger Smial, Budge Ford, Bridgefields -- The Shire
Summertime has settled comfortably on the Bree-lands. This small garden tucked away behind the Stone Houses of the Big Folk and down the hill from South Row is a testament to the hard work and care shown by the garderners who tend it. This garden has been divided up into small parcels, and really it only serves as a means of growing one or two plants for most of the gardeners. Most of the plants here are crops, like radishes, carrots or cabbages, though there are some decorative flowers also.
Obvious exits:
Toby Appledore's Back Door leads to Main Room.
West leads to Stone Houses.
Up leads to South Row.
================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Mon Nov 30 05:21:34 2009
Bree time: Dusk <20:04:42> on Trewsday of Summer - July 24,1448
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent Moon
Breelands Weather
The dusk summer air is very hot and dry around you. The murky sky is overcast and dreary.
===============================================================================
It's almost twilight, and the air is hot and heavy. Few birds sing tonight - perhaps the fat-bellied clouds looming overhead signify that a summer storm is on its way. For now, though, the weather stays dry and the garden remains a fine place to take a walk.
Brandebras Bywater is not walking. The youngish hobbit has wormed his way into a clump of bushes, and there he sits, a blank (if crumpled) piece of parchment on his knees and a stick of charcoal in his hands, watching one particular vegetable plot like a hawk. Well, not quite like a hawk - a cloud of midges has gathered above his head, and he scratches miserably.
The plot that has caught Brandebras' attention appears to have a network of cords and strings set around it.
[Boldibad(#22742)] Tap! Tap! Swish!
Another hobbit comes wandering into the garden at a lazy pace, looking down at the soily earth and swinging a crooked, little stick at various objects. He stops upon stepping into the area and takes a good look around. Smiling pleasantly, he continues into the garden, poking the stick idly into the ground here and there, as though deep in thought.
Boldibad comes to a clump of bushes, and randomly swings the stick at the shrubbery, heaving a deep sigh.
The swish is answered by a thump and a sudden yelp of pain, followed by a sudden thrashing as Brandebras tumbles back into the centre of the shrubbery. He rolls about, trying to free himself from clinging branches. "What - ouch! - do you think you're doing?" he demands indignantly of the air.
[Boldibad(#22742)] Startled, Boldibad drops the stick and leaps back a few steps.
"Hello! Er--terribly sorry." He peers at the bush, looking upon the splashes of yellow and orange clothing through the branches, twigs, and leaves. "Did I hit you? I didn't think anyone else was here. Are you alright, sir?"
"Yes .. I mean no .. at least, you hit my knee." Brandebras manages to sound quite mournful at this. He pulls his sleeve free of one bush -there is the ominous sound of cloth ripping, and he mumbles sadly, "Oh dear," before returning his attention to the hobbit before him. "You couldn't give me a hand up?" he enquires hopefully, adding with a blink, "Do I know you?"
Boldibad tsks, seeming to be somewhat ashamed at his own carelessness. He edges closer to the bushes and scrutinizes the branches carefully.
"I'd reach in to give you a hand, but I run the risk of tearing a hole in my new waistcoat. Ah! It seems your trousers are caught--I've an idea." He then reclaims the stick he came in with and, bending forward determinedly, pokes it through a gap in the plant and attempts to hook it onto the ripped fabric, clinging to one of the sharper twigs. He proceeds to push at the fabric in an attempt to dislodge it and free the stranger. "How's it coming--are you able to come out now?"
"Wait! What are you-?" Brandebras stares in consternation as a stick is poked towards him, and makes little noises of protest as Boldibad pushes at his nice trousers. "I don't think-" There is another tearing sound and the cloth comes free - most of it. A lone scrap of orange flutters forlornly on the bush.
Brandebras squirms his way free, leaving the rag behind, then rises to a standing position to brush himself off and survey his 'assailant'. "I don't think I do know you," he decides. "Are you an Ou- uh, I mean a visitor here?"
Boldibad, blushing now, throws the stick far over the bushes, to a location he'd be hard-pressed to find if he were ever to want it again. He steps back once again. "If you were going to say 'outsider,' then you are absolutely correct, for to you Bree-dwellers, that's just what I am. As far as my being a visitor goes, however, the time of pleasant visitation is over. Let's say I'm here as an... investigator, yes. And, even though I may not be a resident, might I inquire.....?" He gestures with a shift of his eyes toward the midge-favorite bushes.
"Then you must be from the Shire!" young Brandebras exclaims eagerly. "Do you know my brother Torebra-" The words fade into sheepish silence as the stranger-hobbit continues. "I ... um, I was trying to conduct a Private Investigation," he mumbles. "A steak-out, I think it's called. Though I didn't bring any steak, just a chicken pie - it's gone now. I thought if I could catch whoever's stealing Mrs Kettleston's vegetables, she might forget about the lettuces."
Boldibad nods, pushing up his chest slightly. "Yes, I am from the Shire--Bridgefields to be precise. And, this Torebras you refer to--he must be one of those Tooks, am I correct? Don't mix with that family, myself. Quite honestly, the lot of them are quite cracked--almost like those mad Bagginses of Hobbiton." Then, he crosses his arms, and continues with his next breath, "Well, what is this--an investigation or a picnic?"
Brandebras blinks and shakes his head. "No no, we're Bywaters," he answers. "A very /respectable/ family here, you know." And at the other question, the corners of his mouth droop. "It was supposed to be an investigation. I .. uh, I think I'd better go home and get some clean clothes now, though. And I've dropped my pencil." The parchment he'd been holding earlier flutters like a warning flag against one of the cords criss-crossing the nearby vegetable plot, but the charcoal could be any of at least a dozen pieces of stick lying round the edge of the shrubbery. "Were you investigating the Vegetable Stealer too, Mister Bridgefields?"
Boldibad's confusion seems to increase, and he's now scratching his head with a look of annoyance growing on his features.
"Bywaters? Why, we have a Bywater in the West Farthing--only it isn't a person, it's a -town-." He then half-smiles and lowers his arms again. "No matter--er, wait a moment! My name isn't Bridgefields, it's from where I hail! For the love of mushrooms, I've forgotten to introduce myself. Mr. Boldibad Bolger OF Bridgefields--Budge Ford to be exact, collector and dealer of fine antiques and pieces of hobbit history." He bows politely.
"Oh," say Brandebras, blinking anew - but then he returns the bow. "Pleased to meet you, Mister Bolger," he replies politely. "Brandebras Bywater, Messenger and Errand-Runner, at your service!" He beams, then adds happily, "Imagine the Shire naming a whole town after the family! I never knew that."
The other matter is, however, not forgotten. "So /were/ you investigating the Vegetable Thief, Mister Bolger? There must be one, otherwise Mrs Kettleston wouldn't have her plot all sealed off like that."
Boldibad returns the bow with a second bow, this one a little less formal. "Well met, Mr. 'Bywater.' May the hair on your toes never fall out. Though, I'm sure your family, doubtless a respectable one, derived their surname from our town! And, as a matter of fact, if you are a messenger, I may be in need of your service, which ties in with your second question."
Boldibad removes a pipe from his waistcoat, along with a pouch of pipeweed, and packs a pinch into the wooden bowl. "I'm searching for one of your Big-Folk. A despicable fellow, though he doesn't appear to be the type of rogue interested in thieving produce. You see, I've been the victim of a robbery--two rings of great value have been stolen from me."
At the mention of 'services', Brandebras draws himself up to his full height, brushing vainly at the mud on his trousers and the twigs tangled in his waistcoat in an effort to look more respectable. His mouth is open to speak when Boldibad continues - and he listens instead, mouth remaining open. "Oh my!" he exclaims. "How dreadful!" He pauses, thinking. "You know, Mister Bolger, there was a spate of thefts a few months back, they never did catch the person who'd done it. That was a Big Person too - someone saw a cloaked figure, and there were bootmarks round my smial. Did you get a good look at him?" He peers at his fellow-hobbit eagerly.
Boldibad strikes fire to the contents of his pipe and creates a cloud of wonderful-smelling smoke between the two hobbits. He pokes the package back in his waistcoat and removes the pipe from his teeth, sticking his free-hand in a pocket.
"Dreadful indeed--will you just look at this?" He gestures, with the stem of his pipe, to a dark-red scar, or gash, on his forehead, above the right eye. "Said his 'house' sat at the top of your Bree-Hill, and that his money was kept there. Once I noticed no dwellings up there, I knew I was in trouble."
Boldibad puffs on his pipe. "Yes, I did. Fellow was tall, broad-shouldered... wore a hood... deep voice. The only feature I caught on the face was a kind of twisted nose, probably broken at some point. It's all I could tell, before I fainted. Hit my head on the ground, and woke up with my goods missing."
Boldibad adds, "I was just ready to sell those goods and be on my way back to the Shire, too. Now, I'm stuck here until I find what's mine!"
Not even the clouds of smoke billowing from Boldibad's pipe can diminish Brandebras' interest. He leans forward to listen, coughing at one point when a particularly thick puff of smoke comes his way, then shakes his head. "What a dreadful business! To think that anyone in town could stoop to such levels! Though," he pauses thoughtfully, "I don't know anyone who fits that description. Not even among the Rangers - and you know /they're/ queer sorts."
His tongue stops running away for a minute, and there is blessed silence. But then the hobbit blurts out worriedly, "You said you had a message. You don't want /me/ to go up to the top of Bree Hill?"
Boldibad appears thoughtful for a moment.
"You know, Mr. Butterbur told me a few things about these rangers you speak of, and, from what I understand, they may have something to do with this. But, there are so many of these big-folks loose in this town, who in the Shire--er, Bree knows? Er--yes, I do have a message. You see, when I came to, I was awakened by a human child, name of Gidon. I hired the young fellow to watch the marketplace for anyone trying to get rid of my stolen rings." He puffs on his pipe. "Anyhow, I want to make sure he hasn't taken the initial payment I gave him and run off without doing his job! Do you have something I may write on?"
"Gidon?" Brandebras repeats. "The Leafthicket lad? You won't see him in town much - his folk are hunters. Live right out in the woods, near the Midgewater Marshes. It's," he lowers his voice and shudders, "not decent."
The request for writing materials sets him looking around. "Yes - I mean no - I mean .. oh, there it is." He spies his piece of parchment waving flaglike at the edge of Mrs Kettleston's plot, and picks up a stick, trying gingerly to lever it free without actually touching any of the cords. Otherwise, who knows what might happen?
Boldibad frowns, "He lives in the woods? How uncouth. Well, in any case, I intend to make the lad keep his word. I ran into a few Goodbodies who have agreed to travel back with me to the Shire, and I must solve this before we depart." He fumbles around his clothing until he finally finds and produces a small stick of charcoal. He then watches the other hobbit fish for the parchment, and, after a moment, furrows his brow. "Well, go on--just pull it free. Say, what is the purpose of all those strings, anyhow?"
Brandebras shakes his head silently, and goes on with his fumblings. Eventually he resorts to flipping the parchment up from underneath. The parchment itself flutters free, into Brandebras' waiting hand, but the stick has brushed against one of those complicated-looking cords. Immediately the cord pulls taut, a hidden loop in the ground snaps tight and a little bell hung on the gooseberry bush at the far end of the plot jangles. Brandebras, just outside the 'danger zone', looks immensely relieved to have escaped being caught. "It's to catch vegetable thieves," he explains to the visitor, stepping back to hand over the crumpled parchment. "It caught Toby Appledore the other day, someone said." He grins conspiratorially at that.
Boldibad laughs, delighted by the display. "How ingenious," he says. "You folks certainly do things quite differently in this land. Why, in the Shire, we have a farmer by the name of Maggot--keeps vicious dogs on his property. It's quite effective." He offers a pat on his new acquaintance's back and reaches for the parchment, preparing his charcoal in his right hand. "You know," he adds, smiling, "were it not apparent that you're busy with this endeavor, I would be pleased to hire you for my investigation as well. But, if you'll get my message to this... Leafthrower you say? Then, that should be good enough. Now, if I may have the parchment, and make use of your back, I shall not be more than a moment."
Brandebras, caught unawares, jumps a good half-foot at the pat on the back - or was it at the mention of vicious dogs? "I-" he stammers, "that is, I'd be very pleased to help whenever I can. I promise I'll keep my eyes open for you, Mister Bolger! And it's Gidon Leafthicket you were going to write to."
The other request brings a furrowing of his brow - aren't Shirefolk odd? - but after a moment he obediently turns round and leans forward with his hands on his knees, presenting a rather muddy-looking 'table'.
Boldibad straightens out the paper and smoothes it out over the Bree-hobbit's back. "Of course," he says in the process, "Leafthicket--isn't that what I said? I know who I'm going to write to, after all." He then begins making markings with the dull pencil, and, when apparantly finished, makes some sharp markings as creating dots and puncuation where needed. He then folds the paper, and tucks the charcoal back into his waistcoat. "Alright, here you are--come and see me once the letter is received. I'll pay you a little now, and a little more upon your return. I'm staying in the Prancing Pony--old Barliman can tell you exactly where." He offers the folded parchment.
Boldibad gave you Parchment.
Brandebras straightens up with an 'oof', and twists round to accept the parchment. "That sounds fine, Mister Bolger. Always happy to help." And to earn a few pennies, too. "Are you expecting a message back from young Master Leafthicket?"
Boldibad nods, "Glad to hear it, lad. And, I must say, my initial opinion of Bree-hobbits was certainly wrong--despite the rip in those fine trousers, the colors are certainly respectable--and you have the demeanor of a gentlehobbit of the Shire (down inside, that is). You should consider heading west, and taking up residence with us in Budge Ford!" He puffs, puffs on his pipe again, and replies, "A message back is not requested, but I would like to know that the fellow has received it. So, here is a little something now--and, as I said, once you return, I'll give you a little more."
Boldibad +gives you 8 Copper Pennies.
Brandebras looks very impressed by the flattery. "Really?" he murmurs, and then, "You know, I'd always planned on visiting Torebras someday ..." Perhaps Boldibad will regret making that particular remark about Budge Ford.
As the coins are handed over, Brandebras bobs his head. "Thank you very much, Mister Bolger. I'll deliver your message as fast as I can, and make sure that young Gidon reads it too!" He nods earnestly, though the fading light in the garden obscures it. "If you'll excuse me, I'd really better be going. I'll see you at the Prancing Pony, then." Raising a hand in farewell, he trots away - though whether to take the road to Archet or simply to have a nice hot bath and mend his trousers, who can say?
Boldibad waves his arm high in the air, "Good evening to you, Mr. Bywater! I'll be expecting you soon!"
Parchment(#21281Van)
GIDON LEAFTHROWER
Stay on track. Must watch marketplace for big people selling rings. Must talk to merchants dealing in jools. Contact me at Prancing Pony when information is found. Without information, more money cannot be paid. Counting on your help.
Signed,
Mr. Boldibad Bolger,
Bolger Smial, Budge Ford, Bridgefields -- The Shire
Players: Boldibad, Brandebras
