The Great Kettle Mystery. II - Found! A thief apprehended?

Found!

At the Sign of the Prancing Pony(#27261Rto)

The Great East Road bends around the southeastern corner of Bree-hill. The Road leads away to the west and southeast, and where it sweeps past the foot of the hill there sits a large three storey inn. The inn is reached by a wide cobblestone pathway, with two wings that run back, away from the Road to the east, on land partly cut out from the hill\'s lower slopes. As a result, the rear second-floor windows of the inn are level with the ground. A wide arch leads to a courtyard between the two wings. Above the arch is a lit lamp and beneath it swings a large signboard: a fat white pony rearing up on its hind legs.

Obvious exits:

Cobblestone Pathway leads to Before the Prancing Pony.

Broad Way leads to Broad Way - North Bree.

Market Way leads to North Market.

SouthEast leads to GER: Centre of Bree.

West leads to Great East Road.

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

Real time: Mon Aug 31 14:51:04 2009

Bree time: Early morning on Highday of Autumn - October 28,1447

Moon Phase: Last Quarter Moon

Breelands Weather

The autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is clear and the moon shines brightly.

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It\'s early morning, and the still air is cool and crisp, with just a nip of frost in the air and a dusting of white lingering in the cracks between the cobbles. Bree is just starting to wake up - smoke is rising from chimneys, and from the direction of the Prancing Pony comes a really most appetizing smell of breakfast. Bacon, mushrooms and just a hint of something sweet ... apples maybe?

From the north, the direction of the smials, trots a lone hobbit-figure, his curly head bare and his neck and shoulders quite without cloak or muffler. He is breathing heavily, and in his arms he\'s carrying some large, roundish object, something shiny that glints brightly in the slanting autumn sun.

[Brock(#17211)] A man, not especially tall, with a bushy beard and hair that seems to have life of its own comes up towards the \'Prancing Pony\' from the South East. Brock has a leather satchel/tool bag slung over one of his shoulders and he whistles (albeit somewhat tunelessly as he does so).

[Nob(#16122)] \"Isn\'t that...\"

\"Where\'d he find...\"

\"Hey! Hey, you! Brandebras, isn\'t it?\"

Someone calls to the hobbit, after a bit of quiet consultation.

The hurrying hobbit is closer now, and passers-by can see that yes, it is indeed young Brandebras Bywater, eager (if not always accurate!) messenger and errand-runner and brother to the disgraced former Mayor Torebras.

His scurrying path intersects that of Brock - and the hobbit stops in his tracks, quivering. \"It wasn\'t me!\" he bursts out, looking wide-eyed up at the whistling man. \"I swear I didn\'t do it. I just found it - right in the middle of the dining-room table.\" His round face is bright red, with effort, embarrassment and who knows what else?

The object he\'s carrying is cradled protectively in his arms - why, it looks just like a shiny stew-kettle! Empty, alas.

[Brock(#17211)] \"Huh? -What- wasn\'t you?\" Brock says as he turns his gaze down towards the hobbit. \"Something that I should be interested in? Something to do with -that-?\" He shifts his leather satchel around on his shoulder so that he is more comfortable - dull metallic clinking and clattering sounds come from within the hide container as further evidence of the contents. All the while he surveys Brandebras but without a particularly accusatory air. As for the other commotion the Carpenter just spares it a glance.

[Nob(#16122)] The other man takes a step forward, and his friends come with him, in a little huddle. \"I bet it was,\" says one. \"Here... you!\" The first man looks at Brock. \"This fellow\'s that thief, I bet! You hold him, while I go for the constables!\" The others nod grimly - and somehow, they all feel they need to help their friend find the guardsmen.

Brandebras bursts into tears at the men\'s accusations, and stays rooted to the spot. Brock will have little trouble grabbing him if he wishes.

\"I just .. found it,\" the hobbit whispers, low-voiced. \"I don\'t know how it got there. And, and,\" he gasps for breath, \"I\'ve lost the gold-inlaid pen and ink-bottle that Torebras gave me. They were lying on the table when I went to bed, and now ..\" His lip quivers dolefully.

The sound of clinking metal brings a whimper to his lips and he asks quaveringly, \"Wh- what\'s in there?\"

Brock rubs a hand below his nose as if stiffling a building sneeze before he turns his head this way and that to take in the appearance and demeanours of the men around (the ones suggesting that Brock restrain Brandebras). \"It\'s just tools...anyway, pots don\'t have legs and just walk themselves up onto your dining table and yet you say it wasn\'t you - you have a good reason that I should believe you more\'n them?\" He jerks his head at the others around before fixing the quivering hobbit in his gaze again.

Brandebras quails at the very question. \"Because ... because I\'m telling the truth?\" he says in a very small voice, looking at his feet - well, what he can see of them past the nice shiny pot. \"I don\'t know how it-\" the words trail off as a Nasty Thought occurs to him, and then he ventures, his red cheeks paling, \"Someone must have put it there. Someone who wanted to make trouble for me and my folks.\"

The \'just tools\' seems to be accepted at face value in the background, however, an old and rather deaf woman hobbling along with her hand on her husband\'s arm, blithely unaware of who is being accused here, snaps out in Brock\'s direction, \"Huh? What\'s that? Show your bag, you young man!\"

Brock furrows his brow as he considers what\'s being said by Brandebras. \"You been making a lot of enemies lately?\" Once again he shifts the bag around for ease of carrying but then--before he can ask much else--he is forced to pay attention to the demands of the elderly woman.

\"Me? I suppose that\'s no problem, Ma\'am.\" The carpenter sighs and grunts but does indeed sling the bag onto the ground by his feet before he tosses back the dirty leather flap and starts to rummage around inside. Sure enough it seems to just be tools but he shrugs. \"Y\'all can look for yourselves if you want.\"

Brandebras\' tear-streaked face furrows at that question. \"I- I don\'t know,\" he says at last, uncertainly. \"I /did/ forget Mrs Thimblefrond\'s shopping last week.\" His pale cheeks flush a little at the admission. \"But I didn\'t think she was that cross. Maybe-\" he falters, then takes a deep breath and goes on, \"maybe it\'s something to do with Tore-\" He stops and jumps back with a squeal as Brock reveals his tools - maybe he\'s afraid the Big Person is going to pull out a knife or a club or something else nasty.

It is at this point that a burly-looking Breeguard appears on the scene. It is clear from his creased face, matted hair and unlaced tunic that someone has got him out of bed. \"Now then, now then,\" he says officiously, looming over Brandebras. \"What\'s all this? Name, please.\" He balances a stump of pencil over a scrap of parchment. \"And you too, sir,\" he adds to Brock. \"Witness and all that.\" The breakfast smells from the Pony drift his way and he sniffs longingly, clearly keen to get this over with.

Brock considers the matter of the accused hobbit\'s possible enemies. \"Right, forgetting a shopping list hardly seems like cause for framing anyone..\" He drops to a crouch so that he can better put his collection of tools back together in the satchel once it\'s been inspected by any who should wish to do so. He is still crouching when the Breeguard approaches and starts asking for names etc.

The carpenter grunts something under his breath about a good day going to bad. \"Brock. Brock Rushlight.\" That\'s how he answers the question of his identity. \"If that\'s all then I should be gettin\' along -- I smell food and my stomach\'s telling me I should be getting some. If you need anything else then as soon as I\'ve eatten then I\'m all yours.\"

The constable leans over the tools for a moment, trying to look interested, though a yawn gives him away. When Brock provides his name he starts scribbling furiously. \"I\'ll need - oh.\" Belatedly he looks up. \"On second thoughts, this could take a while. How about we go through the particulars in the Pony after a little something to fill the belly. You won\'t give any trouble, eh, young lad?\" He looks forbiddingly down at Brandebras.

But the hobbit, formerly trembling like a leaf, brightens considerably at the mention of food. \"No, sir. Did you say something about breakfast?\" Oh dear. If the Breeguard /do/ decide to arrest him they\'d better triple their provisions.