A Gentle Interrogation

Starring:

The Malrog as Linden, a Breelander:

No longer young, yet not quite counted \'old,\' Linden\'s passingly pretty face is marred by an impassive expression, and the phlox-blue eyes seem guarded and distant. Her braided, glossy hair is sable dark, and a few strands of grey streak in stark contrast at her temples. She is not overly tall, and would likely be lost in a crowd in all her other mannerisms, which are furtive and controlled.

Havoc as Sard, a Breelander:

This one has led a hardscrabble life, from the look of him. Lean and sinewy, his body is all sticks and angles and his face is all crags and valleys. His skin is leathern and sun-scarred, but the many laugh-lines about his eyes (dark brown) tell he has kept his humor, at least. He seems clean, sandy hair well-enough kept and long, pulled back into a tail. His clothes are neat and seem well-made, but not too expensive if the viewer has any sense of such things. There is a no-nonsense air about him. His bodies weathered state makes his age difficult for most to discern although it\'s clear he is no youngster.

and Malrog as Lavender Figwort, a Breelander:

Looking like any other typical Breemarm.

The Figwort Home

This is one in a series of smaller dwellings in Bree its construction shares a similar floor plan to a number of other houses along the East Road. While the domicile is small, it is nonetheless comfortable. Most of the house is laid out as rooms connected to rooms instead of with hallways. The front door opens directly into a sitting room. Its decor is comfortable the walls have many paintings and needlepoints, and a fresh arrangement of flowers sit on an table that has a fine linen tablecloth. Past a well-made table (with stuffed chairs arranged beneath a window, opposite) a doorway leads into the most important room in a home: the well attended kitchen. The two rooms share a common fireplace with a wide hearth and large chimney. At meal times and in the winter, the fireplace casts a bright cheerful glow into both rooms, and almost enough heat to reach the few rooms beyond. Past the kitchen there are a few bedrooms and a bath, all of which seem to have been recently painted, stained, or in which some kind of decoration has been placed.

[Malrog] The \'champion-like flourish\' is akin to the sweep of a broom--at least in Linden\'s view--for as Sard bows with a motion for her to enter ahead of him, it\'s as if he\'s herded her, instead. She cannot move quickly enough to avoid what she expects might be an attempt to guide her with a prodding hand. Though, once inside the house, Linden looks longingly out through the open door as teacups clink and the kettle is rattled behind her.

\"But I don\'t--\" she starts to say to the man, then resigns herself with a soft huff of breath, and the blue-eyed gaze steels to something of tolerance. Squaring her shoulders, she looks aside to the empty front room.

[Havoc] Sard makes sure to give Linden more than enough time to get through the doorway, to avoid a possible collision. When he does enter he seems to make straight for the sounds Lavender is making in the kitchen. His efforts for naught, he fetches up quite suddenly when he realizes that Linden is standing in the way.

\"Something wrong? She doesn\'t have a dog, does she? Never quite cared for dogs.\" He is standing extremely close to her.

[Malrog] \"No dogs,\" Linden says quickly, drawing back a sweeping step as Sard stands close. Too close. Still, there seems something the woman wants to say. And, as Sard stands uncomfortably close to her, and dishes and whatnot clatter away, beyond, in the kitchen, Linden whispers what it is that\'s on her mind.

\"I don\'t know her!\" She admits, glancing towards the busy Lavender who, thankfully, has not returned to the front room. Yet. \"Well, I hardly know her, anyway.\" The next is an appeal for....mercy? \"I don\'t know what to say--\"

[Havoc] Sard seems not to notice Linden\'s reaction--nor his proximity, really. He smiles as she speaks, and then cuts in with a conspiratorial whisper, ratcheted up as loud as possible.

\"I don\'t know her either! You aren\'t supposed to know what to say to people you\'ve just met! I think that\'s why they call it small-talk. As in, it ain\'t so important what you say!\" He winks, then brings his voice down to an actual whisper, his tone changing. \"Look, she\'s a fine old lady of Bree. Seems like she lives alone. Probably lonely. We\'re doing her a kindness.\"

[Malrog] And while it probably makes perfect sense--doing a kindness to old ladies who live alone--his idea still makes Linden feel somewhat uncomfortable. And that might be evident by the second step back she takes, which puts her right next to a table. Her right hand (the one still clutching the wadded parchment) draws back to rest against the table as she looks from Sard back to the kitchen.

\"There\'s no such thing as small talk!\" she whispers in response. Somewhat tersely?

[Malrog] \"Oh, there, dears!\" Lavender coos as she brings out a tray of fancy, honey-glazed seed-cake. \"Do take a seat,\" she insists, and motions to the three overstuffed chairs under a small window on the north wall. \"Tea will be out in a moment.\" She is all smiles and seems thoroughly pleased with her company.

[Havoc] Sard\'s smile is effusive. \"Thank you, mother! What a lovely home you have,\" he coos as he sidles near Linden. Apparently he is waiting (chivalry?) for her to take a seat, first. He chooses not to comment on her claim--he knows what she means. In small communities, everything said is scrutinized. He concludes she must be too young (to judge by her voice, first, now this) to understand the art of getting around that sort of thing--anyone with any age to them in a village would know. But he says nothing.

[Malrog] Sard\'s kind words are clearly well-received as Lavender sets the tray of cakes upon squat, polished table, looks about the room and nods in agreement, bringing a hand up to motion to a cabinet of curios and knickknacks. \"It is a modest, yet comfortable home,\" she says, and smiles at the man. \"Thank you.\"

[Malrog] As the man sidles near Linden, the latter sidles a quick step in succession, slipping down into the chair nearest her. It is not the most graceful of movements, and she recovers with a straightening of her posture. Still, she seems more than relieved that--for the moment--all conversation, thus far, excludes her.

Until the next.

[Malrog] \"And who did you say your mother was, dear?\" Lavender\'s kindly, yet curious, gaze has settled fully upon Linden now.

[Havoc] Sard follows Linden as she sidles herself into a chair, then sits in the one next to it, curiously running his hands over it, first. He accepts a seed-cake as both he and the matron await Linden\'s reply.

[Malrog] If Linden had not been completely surprised by the question asked by Lavender, she might have noticed Sard\'s curious \'confirmation\' of the chair before he sat down. As it happens, however, the woman is too preoccupied in coming up with an appropriate answer to notice anything else.

\"I...I didn\'t mention my mother,\" Linden begins with a level, surprisingly slow delivery of the words. \"I said that Rue Foxglove was my grandmother.\" As if she navigates a potential trap, Linden sees an opportunity to distract. \"She had this parchment, you see.\" And Linden holds up the wadded paper as if it is the most natural thing in the world to treat a parchment so. \"And upon it are several names and what she owed them. I--I promised her I\'d see to it. Before she died.\"

[Malrog] Indeed, the rambling answer brings Lavender to nodding, then shaking her head, the old, yet clear, eyes narrowing as she looks at Linden. \"I see...\" she says. \"Was she very old?\" But before Linden can answer, she announces, \"Oh! Tea!\" And starting towards the kitchen, asks Sard. \"How *do* you like the seed-cake? Made it myself, I did!\"

[Havoc] Sard looks up in mid-nibble and first smiles around the seed-cake, then carefully swallows before sighing, \"Mrs. Figwort! Had I known, in a younger year, you could bake such earthly delights, I would surely have sought to win your hand!\"

[Malrog] Lavender\'s beeline towards the kitchen slows just enough for her to giggle--almost girlishly--at Sard\'s compliment. It does seems the grand old lady has not had too many visitors--for her countenance seems much-brightened with the company at hand. \"Oh! You do flatter me, Mr. Whiteford, was it?\" She hurries to the kitchen and the whistling teapot, which rises in volume with each second.

[Malrog] Linden, for her part, might be seen to slump slightly as she\'s spared further interrogation. She looks towards the seed-cakes, contemplating, but swallows and sits against the chair\'s tall back, instead.

[Malrog] Lavender calls from the kitchen. \"I hope you all do like honey in your tea! Mister Fallowfield sent me some lovely clover-blossom honey just last week. And it is divine!\"

[Havoc] Sard sits and nibbles at his cake, perhaps not wanting to eat it all before he gets his tea. Or perhaps it tastes horrible and he is just being polite. Linden will never know. He thinks to himself, however, that her tone is easily discerned. Poor kid, she surely has family troubles. He shrugs (which would look curious to Linden if she saw him just shrug out of the blue), can\'t do anything while trapped by courtesy. He\'ll just have to ride it out and hope Linden doesn\'t have some sort of fit if the old marm\'s questions become too dangerous.

[Malrog] In the brief interim that Lavender Figwort is away, Linden does, indeed notice the sudden shrug Sard makes. And, while the glance lingers a moment in his direction, she says nothing as she considers the seed-cakes once more.

[Malrog] \"You know, dear,\" calls Lavender from the kitchen--just before she brings out a second tray of cups, saucers, and a full teapot. Once more the gaze turns(more shrewd than curious?) upon Linden. \"I know Mr. Whiteford, here, but I never did get *your* name?\" She sets the tray down upon the same squat table, then smooths the apron covering her skirt.

[Malrog] This question being less threatening than the previous, it is only a moment before Linden replies. \"I\'m Linden Foxglove,\" she says, simply.

[Malrog] \"Linden!\" exclaims the elder Figwort, leaning over the tray and separating the cups in preparation to pour the tea. \"Isn\'t that a delightful name! I do so love linden trees!\" And she looks to Sard as if to get his approval.

[Havoc] Sard gushes, \"Why, that is so true, isn\'t it, mother? They are indeed fine trees. In fact I have several lindens on my croftland, I do!\" He neglects to mention that he has endured this entire strange (if interesting) episode so far without knowing her name, either. Eh. He\'d get it sooner or later, and lo! he did, at that. \"Ahem, Whitethorne, though, so sorry,\" he murmurs as he is passed a cup of tea.

[Malrog] Her smile all a-brim with satisfaction, Lavender does draw up as Sard clarifies his name. She tilts her head, as if it might help her hearing.

\"WhiteTHORNE, you say?\" she repeats, then shakes her head with a nervous little laugh. \"These old ears. They fool me, sometimes.\" Unlike Linden, who still sits somewhat removed and relieved from the banter at hand, Lavender recovers quickly from her little blunder, and expertly pours the tea, chattering on. \"You say you have a farm?\" she asks the man--after handing him the cup of tea. \"Now, don\'t forget the honey,\" she reminds, and points to the small pitcher filled with the sweet. Next, the old lady attends to Linden and offers her a cup of tea, with the casual, \"Foxglove, you say? The Archet Foxgloves?\"

[Havoc] Sard says, \"Oh yes,\" and tips some honey into his cup. \"Been in the family for generations--Farmeadow is the name of the croft.\" He pauses a moment while Lavender questions Linden, face scrunching in that \"wait a minute...\" look. \"Third from the end...\" he mumbles, then says \"So when did you come to this house? I\'ve been delivering pipeweed to Bree many years. Passed this house and all the rest. Didn\'t this used to be Old Man Merryweather\'s place?\"

[Malrog] \"Farmeadow you say? Hmmm....\" The tea at last served, Lavender pours her own measure, adds a great deal of honey, then sits in the available chair--next to Sard. \"It has a ring of familiarity to it,\" she muses. \"But I\'m not so sure I know as much as I\'d like!\" She looks towards Linden now--awaiting her answer.

[Malrog] Linden is just returning the honey to the tray when Lavender sends that pointed stare in her direction. The former shrugs--or is that her attempt to dismiss her own anxiety. \"Most of the Foxgloves are from Archet, aren\'t they?\" she says. Hardly an answer at all, and not a smile added to it.

[Malrog] Lavender sniffs, chuckles, then turns back to Sard. \"Old Man Merryweather was my brother in law. Sister\'s husband,\" she adds. \"Fine old gentleman, he was.\" Her voice lowers as she steadies her cup and leans closer to the man to whisper the next. \"Didn\'t want the house to fall into the hands of those Nettleburrs! Terrible lot!\" As a courtesy, she nods to Linden, who returns the gesture with a nod of her own. \"So he left it to me.\" She purses her lips, takes a sip of tea, then looks back to Sard. \"Know any of those Nettleburrs?\" She huffs.

[Havoc] Sard pshaws, \"As if I would sully my name to consort with that lot!\" He seems to speak with deadly earnest, but from what Linden has seen so far, anything is possible with this man--it\'s just as likely he is putting on an act for the old woman. He pats Lavender\'s hand as he murmurs, \"You make a far better tenant, I deem! I\'m glad that all worked out.\"

** Continued at 22:14:14 CT on Wed Mar 19 2014 **

[Malrog] Has it been an hour? Two? Linden has barely managed to keep up with the lively chatter over the Nettleburrs of Combe and Archet--and the few that have managed to wheedle their ways here in Bree. Or the blight of Oliver Meadowfew\'s cattle since last fall. Yet the woman has been able to keep mostly to herself--save for the few times it\'s been required to add a nod, or divulge an \"I don\'t know, for certain...\"

[Malrog] Either way, Lavender seems to have caught on that Linden is not one for small talk--or other talk--and has directed most of her chatter in Sard\'s direction. \"You say you\'ve had your own farm? Do tell me more more about it,\" she wonders. Trying to keep the conversation going.

[Havoc] Sard helps himself to more tea, tipping, tipping, tipping the pot to get at what appears to be the last bit. He shrugs a little and settles back, sipping and nodding.

\"Oh, yes, as I\'ve said, been in the family forever. Only really make it up to Bree a few times a year, of course--self-sufficient, we are. Well let\'s see, we\'ve got pipeweed, some grain, several different gardens. Some livestock, of course. A pretty big pond, too, at one end, we\'re careful not to over-fish her.\" Sard scratches his nose as he finishes his tea. \"Course, it\'s not all idyllic. We\'re pretty far out. Get some queer folk coming through now and again.\" He adds, \"Especially recently,\" with a frown.

[Malrog] \"Fish...are fine,\" Linden answers in her usual, non-committal way to Sard\'s question. She watches as the man tips the last of the tea into his cup. She has kept to a cup and a half of tea--but seemed to enjoy the seed-cake, polishing off two pieces. The conversation appears it will go on as it has before. And then, something extraordinary happens.

Linden asks a question.

Before Lavender can even reply to Sard\'s comment about \'queer folk\' coming through of late, Linden turns a covert glance in the farmer\'s direction. \"Recently?\" she wonders. \"What kind of folk...and--\" She seems to realize she\'s actually engaging in conversation as Lavender stares at her, and the younger woman clears her throat. \"And what makes them...strange?\" she adds.

[Havoc] Sard settles his empty cup into his lap. \"Well, now, anyone coming up the Great Road from parts unknown are bound to be queer, but you see them mebbe once in a blue moon. Until recently. Fair amount of Southrons coming up the road these days. Some unsavory sorts with them. Not just rude. Caught a few poaching, had to run em off. I see Southron faces around Bree now. Guess here is where they were going. It\'s no good, I say. No sir, I don\'t like it.\"

[Malrog] Sard\'s report seems to have reminded Linden of something--or at least encouraged her to do something bold--and she clutches the teacup in her hand before leaning forward to place it on the table.

\"I really must go,\" she says, standing.

[Malrog] \"But--\" Lavender Figwort\'s mouth goes agape at the suddenness of it all. \"If you must...?\" she says, and starts to get up--much slower.

[Malrog] \"I just remembered--\" Linden abandons trying to explain. \"But thank you, Mrs. Figwort. It was very kind of you to invite me...er...us both...to tea. Very kind, indeed.\" (At least it appears the woman may have some manners...?)

[Havoc] Sard follows Linden\'s lead and rises, setting his cup down as he does.

\"Well now, I suppose it\'s alright, isn\'t it, mother? We\'ve fair talked you to an early bedtime, I deem--and the tea is done, anyhow.\" He smiles as he brushes his clothes, just in case any seeds were dropped. \"I must say, your cakes are a work of art--what do you think of bringing a batch around once a week, eh? I\'ll see you get good coin for it! And it\'ll get you out of the house! Just bring em by the Whitethorne place up the hill above the Pony. ..Thistle Lane? Well, just ask after it.\" He clears his throat, turning to Linden (making sure she is in front of him, in case she bolts). \"You\'re welcome, too, of course, call any time! We proper folk need to stick together, don\'t we?\"

[Malrog] Linden\'s expression is all of relief as Sard stands as well, and the following, pleasant exchange between Lavender and the farmer allows her to get to the door first. (Though, she does wait for the lady of the house to open it.) Once the door is opened, Linden slips quickly out and down the steps, only stopping near the gate.

[Malrog] \"Why, I think I shall do that very thing!\" Lavender says of the farmer\'s suggestion to bring her seed-cakes by. \"I shall make a new batch tomorrow and deliver them straightaway!\" She stands near the door to bid Sarn good-bye, looking curiously after the \'bolting\' Linden with a quirk of her brow.

[Havoc] Sard grins and waves as he makes his way to the gate, behind Linden.

\"Plenty around if I\'m not in--just warn my cousins when you come by that if they think to eat them all without me, they\'ll regret it!\" he calls back, before turning away for good. \"Well,\" he waits for Linden to go through the gate, \"I\'m glad I could help with your errand. Good luck settling the rest of Rue\'s debts, lass.\"

[Malrog] Linden opens the gate as Sard arrives, though she does pause at his words.

\"Oh,\" she says, and her hand grips the gate--paling her knuckles. \"I should thank you, too. For your help.\" The gate creaks as she opens it, and she stands aside so Sard might pass through. The parchment has since been smoothed and refolded--though it looks worse for the wear. \"I\'ve just two or three left, I think,\" she says, holding the folded paper up. \"But I really must get back to--To home.\"

[Havoc] Sard looks up--thought they spent some time indoors, out here it is still technically afternoon. Early enough, still.

\"Well, I must say, I don\'t remember the last time I met someone under such interesting circumstances. I hope I see you again don\'t rightly know very many people hereabouts.\" He passes through the gate and turns back. \"It\'s nice to get to know young people, I think. Although if I might chance, I\'d say you\'re a bit serious for your age.\" He softens this last with a bright smile. \"Anyway, I\'m off!\" he says smartly...although he keeps standing there.

[Malrog] Linden closes the gate behind the farmer, and though Sard seems to invite more conversation, the woman seems determined to keep to her insistence she must leave.

\"I\'m sure our paths will cross?\" she says--almost too easily. (For it is certain she\'s found the tea party altogether taxing!) \"A pleasant day to you, Mister Whitethorne,\" Linden offers as the man announces he is off. And, unlike the other, she makes quick strides down the footpath towards the main road.