A Mild Throttling

\"A Mild Throttling\"

Log by: Boldibad (#22742)

================================== Bree Time ==================================

Real time: Thu Jan 14 14:27:48 2010

Bree time: Early Night <22> on Highday of Winter - December 10,1448

Moon Phase: Full  Moon

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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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Brandebras

Brandebras Bywater - Messenger, errand-runner and expert gossiper

This average-sized hobbit looks to be barely out of his tweens - bright-eyed and apple-cheeked, his round face shines with the unmistakeable air of Youth. He wears a buttercup-yellow waistcoat, its brass buttons polished to a mirror shine, and orange trousers that are fastened round his broad middle by a black leather belt. His eyes are the brown of ripe nuts, and the curling hair that tops his head and protects his furry feet is a fine shade of chestnut. A goosefeather quill protrudes from one waistcoat pocket.

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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.

-----

As the night gets older (and chillier), the crowd and fire grow in the common room.

Boldibad sits at at one of the stools, sideways, looking out cautiously at some of the humans who come in to drink.

One of the said humans, a big burly farmer whose face is flushed with ale, laughs and slaps his knee at some jest or other. Catching sight of Boldibad staring at him, he peers back curiously. \"Something you be wanting, Master Hobbit?\"

At the same time the outer door opens, letting in a blast of wintry air, and a shivering Brandebras Bywater pokes his head in. The young hobbit, though physically he escaped virtually unscathed from the troll\'s clutches, has been rather subdued since his return to Bree, and seldom seen - gossip has it he\'s been hiding in his hobbit-hole.

Malorie enters the Common Room through the open doorway.

Malorie has arrived.

Boldibad looks across the crowded room toward the old human, and timidly calls back, \"No, no--I was just admiring your hat.\" He turns quickly back to the bar, peering toward the bartender. \"Excuse me,\" he says, though it doesn\'t seem anyone hears him.

With the night wearing on, the crowd in the Common Room is still growing, and as Brandebras hesitates in the doorway there is a chorus of \"Shut that door!\". The young hobbit jumps guiltily and complies. At the sight of Boldibad he sidles over that way from the way he hangs his head one might think him embarrassed to be seen in company.

The red-faced farmer, mollified, lifts the hat off his head and turns it round in his hands. \"Nice, ain\'t it.\" Something occurs to him, and he adds swiftly, \"And you ain\'t having it.\"

A trio of people next to him burst out laughing, and falling into Boldibad carelessly. \"Forget it,\" he says, and turns quickly in his stool, sliding to his feet. He seems quite surprised to have ended up right in front of Brandebras. \"Oh,\" he says, \"why, you whippersnapper...\" He reaches for Brandebras collar, \"What were you thinking? What WERE you THINKING?\"

\"Ouch! Watch where you\'re going, would ya?\"

It\'s doubtful that the patron exiting the common room means to run into Malorie--bumping her left shoulder as he does--but she\'s made her point--and loudly--anyway.

The Breeguard scans the room, looking for a place to sit, sees Brandebras and Boldibad nearby, and frowns.

The farmer, replete with food and ale, flushes a shade deeper at Boldibad\'s words. \"Oi! Watch yer-\" At that point Malorie makes her entrance and he turns to watch. By the time he\'s done that and then flagged down the serving-lass for another ale - looks like Boldibad will have to wait a little longer - the \'rude\' hobbit is forgotten.

Whatever Brandebras was expecting, it is not that. He does not even attempt to evade Boldibad\'s grasping hand, and as his collar is gripped he makes small choking noises. \"Ugh- hhha-\" His gaze, full of fear, lights on Malorie, and his features take on a pleading expression.

Boldibad shakes Brandebras, gripping the collar with both hands, and glaring at him with his lips pursed and his eyebrows pointed down toward the top of his nose. \"Walkin\' up to a... to a... givin\' away our food... you need some sense knocked into you, lad, some good Shire sense!\" Several people nearby take interest in the exchange, and someone says, \"Hey, break it up!\"

Frown turns to look of confusion as Malorie sees Boldibad grasp hold of Brandebras\' collar. At first, the young woman tries to look nonchalantly away, but all too soon her curiosity gets the better of her and she looks back to the two Hobbits.

\"What?\" she half-voices, half-asks over the din of the common room.

But then, as the din builds to include the two, Malorie steps forward.

\"And just what do you think you\'re doing?\" She asks, more than a little peeved.

Brandebras hangs there limply as his brains are rattled - some would say he has none left to damage. When Boldibad is done he reaches up his hands to paw at his collar and draws in a few deep, gasping breaths. \"I- I- w-was just doing wh-wh-what I was told,\" he manages to stammer out to his assailant. At Malorie\'s question he cringes. This has got to be his fault somehow, hasn\'t it?

When Malorie steps in, one or two folk nod approvingly.

\"\'At\'s it.\"

\"Show \'em what a Breeguard\'s for.\" Others, however, are less pleased.

\"What\'s that Blackroot wife think she\'s a-doing, spoiling a good argy-bargy!\"

Boldibad lets go of the shirt, and stumbles backwards a little. He leans forward on his knees, somewhat out of breath. \"Oh,\" he says, \"I--I\'m sorry, I...\" He sighs and shakes his head. \"I got a little excited...\"

Glaring at Boldibad, Malorie takes another step towards him--even though he\'s stumbled back from Brandebras. There\'s no doubt but that intimidation is her goal in this, for she then puts her hands upon her hips.

\"Listen, you,\" she says sternly, \"I just got off my watch and I\'ve no intention of letting a mere Hobbit or two spoil what little bit o\' the evening I have left.\"

Her glance flicks to Brandebras--who, oddly, gets only a little less of a glare.

\"Now....Are you both going to sit there and behave yourselves, or do I have to haul you out one by one?\"

Brandebras, released, tries to scuttle back, fetching up against the nearest table with a bump. He swipes a sleeve across his face and sniffs several times. \"I\'m s-sorry I fainted,\" he offers to Malorie, as though one more timid hobbit would somehow have tipped the scales against a troll. \"I w-won\'t do it-\" His voice falters, and he fumbles in his pocket for a red-and-white spotted handkerchief, which he proceeds to blow his nose on. Loudly. He does not dare look at Boldibad.

Boldibad straightens up again, and glares up at Malorie. \"Well, I never!\" But, before he can continue, he recognizes Malorie and crosses his arms, \"It\'s you!\" He says. \"Well, I suppose I wouldn\'t be upset at this poor young fellow if it wasn\'t for you, orderin\' him to do things that... well, things that just aren\'t right for a hobbit to do. Give away our means of survival... to a huge creature out of the Old Forest. Bah! I don\'t believe I\'ll listen to you this time--we\'re not on the road anymore.\"

Seeming satisfied that the two will at least not kill eachother, Malorie nonetheless is perturbed by Boldibad\'s words--if the sudden downturn of her mouth as he blurts out his displeasure is any indication.

Drawing in a slow, deep breath, the girl adds an inch or so to her height as she draws her shoulders up and back, though a faint wince accompanies this action.

\"Blather away as you please,\" she says to Boldibad. \"Next time I\'ll save the ham and throw *you* to the troll!\"

The next glance she offers Brandebras might be encouraging of sympathy, or perhaps Malorie just finds the situation slightly amusing. But, with one more stern glance to both Hobbits, the Breeguard gives a satisfied nod and turns heel away from them, seeking quieter surroundings.

Malorie says, \"don\'t kill eachother! )\"

Malorie has disconnected.

Brandebras lets the handkerchief fall from his face as he stares at Boldibad, wide-eyed (and yes, those eyes are suspiciously wet). His features screw up in perplexity, then he falters, quailing under Malorie\'s parting glance as he does, \"But- but I didn\'t want /me/ to be et. It was horrible!\" He stops and shudders. \"I\'m never ever leaving Bree again!\" He, of course, has no need to return to the Shire.

The serving-lass, entering the room again with a tray of mugs, offers the young hobbit a practised smile. \"There there, Mister Bywater, no need to take on so. I\'ll be with you in just a moment.\" She bustles past, and sets the tray down to the accompaniment of a cheer from the group of rowdy farmers.

Boldibad gasps and doesn\'t say anything until after Malorie leaves and the crowd begins to go back to what they were doing, some in disappointment.

Boldibad looks over at Brandebras and sighs, \"Ahh, now don\'t worry about it, Mr. Brandebras. I was just waiting an awful long time for a pitcher of ale--you see, some of my companions in the parlour are quite thirsty. And, well, nobody will take notice of me, and...\" He rubs his eyebrow uncomfortably, \"I over-reacted a little bit. Didn\'t mean to get cross with you, lad. You know, you should do like your brother--come on over to the Shire, where things,\" he glances around and takes a few steps closer, \"Where things are more... quiet!\"

Brandebras listens to the apology, though his chin has dropped so that he\'s staring at the floor. \"I\'m sorry I offended you, Mister Bolger,\" he offers in response. The final words, though, bring a gasp. \"Go to the Shire? I\'m not going back past- past that thing. Whatever it was. It might kill us!\"

The serving-lass, a plump and rather harrassed-looking young hobbit-lady, chooses this moment to step back in front of her fellow Little Folk, blithely unaware of what she\'s missed. \"Now, what was it?\"

Brandebras glances at her, then flushes. \"I\'m not sure I\'m hungry,\" he mumbles. A hobbit disinterested in food? Why, he\'ll waste away!

Boldibad glares, \"Don\'t say things like that, or they might come to be true! Didn\'t your elders ever--\" he cuts himself off. \"Well, nevermind. Perhaps you have a good point. We certainly aren\'t going to go out of that gate any time soon. We\'ll be staying at least a month, to be sure that creature is gone when we\'re on that road. Just think about it a bit, eh?\"

\"Of course not,\" he says to the serving lass, \"can\'t you see he\'s already eaten? But, I\'ll gladly take the pitcher of ale I\'ve been waiting so long for--two, since the wait is so long tonight...\"

Boldibad adds, \"And we need someone to fix our wagon,\" snapping his fingers and shaking his head.

\"Maybe,\" Brandebras draws breath, then hesitates, \"you should just stay here in Bree, Mister Bolger. It\'s a good place, nice safe and quiet - and respectable, too.\" He brightens just a little at the talk of his homeland and, before the serving-lass can bustle off, adds thoughtfully, \"Maybe I could manage just a /little/ something. Are there any meat-pies?

The serving-lass looks flustered at Boldibad\'s remark. \"I\'m so sorry, sir, it\'s just that Maddy\'s off sick, and with that private party ... And of course, young Mister Bywater. I\'ll bring two of them, too.\" She gives the younger of the two hobbits a condescending smile and darts away.

Once she\'s gone, Brandebras announces absently, \"You could ask Mister Hollyhewer.\" He stops, shakes his head. \"No no, he\'s a woodcutter. What am I thinking of? You\'d need Mister Rushlight, or maybe Mister Miller.\"

Boldibad cocks an eyebrow, \"Come to Bree? Come to--\" he chuckles, looking around again. \"Oh! Of course, that\'s a fine thing for me to consider. I\'ll definitely think about the suggestion...\" He tries to smile convincingly. \"And you say Mr. Rushlight or Miller... Mr. Miller, isn\'t he the fellow who traveled with us from the Shire?\"

Brandebras nods at that. \"He did. But he was hurt - something hit him on the head. Can people get all right sometimes after being hit on the head? Torebras always says I must have been dropped on my head as a baby, that\'s why-\" He stops suddenly, looking down at his two furry feet as he turns a hue akin to crimson. Whatever Torebras says, it cannot have been complimentary.

Boldibad pats Brandebras on the shoulder, \"Well, that\'s not true, or your head would be some unnatural shape. Don\'t put any thought to that, Mr. Bywater.\" He puts a hand in his waistcoat pocket, \"Oh, let\'s just hope Mr. Miller is a strong sort of fellow. If he is, he should be up and at everything in no time--and we\'ll be able to hire him, surely. And, for a better price than Mr. Rushlight would charge, I\'m sure, since Mr. Miller knows of our trouble first-hand. Unfortunately, it\'s a bit too late for me to go looking for him tonight...\"

Boldibad actually has to head out for a little bit, but should be back around 1630 :)

Middle-earth time is:

Nighttime on Highday, Day 10 of December.

Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 16:07:26 MDT on Thu Jan 14 2010.

Boldibad leans back against the wall near Brandebras, waiting for his ale.

\"You think so?\" Brandebras, despite cringing away from Boldibad\'s hand as though he fears another shake, manages a tremulous smile at the elder hobbit\'s reassurances. \"Mister Rushlight\'s not so bad. He got me out of jail that time I was Wrongfully Imprisoned.\" There he pauses meaningfully, taking the opportunity to look round hopefully for his pie.

Lemuel enters the Common Room through the open doorway.

Lemuel has arrived.

End.

--> See the continuation of this roleplay in the log titled, \"Help isn\'t Cheap in Bree.\"