Pierce: Scarlet at night

============= Bree Time ==========
Real time: Sat Dec 03 21:29:31 2005
Bree time: Nighttime <23:28:33> on Mersday of Autumn - October 20,1436
Moon Phase: Full Moon
======================
Breelands Weather: The nighttime autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The night sky is cloud-filled and gloomy. The moon is above the horizon and in its full phase.

Blacksmith's Shop
The blacksmith shop is hot and humid. The room is divided in half by a large counter. The side you are on contains several chairs and displays of the various products for sale here. On the wall is a large pricelist. You can see a forge, anvils, and other smithing tools as well as another door on the other side of the room.

[Pierce(#32225)]
A cool evening settles over Bree. Early stars begin to poke through the dusky sky and a cool breeze sends autumn leaves rustling though the sparsely populated streets. Those about hurry home to welcoming dinner fires that send curls of smoke into the air from chimneys of many homes.

In the marketplace, most businesses set about their tasks to close for the night. An exception to this, however, is the blacksmith's shop. The forge fires blaze, spilling bright yellow light through open doors and windows into the street. The rhythmic clang of metal pounds mercilessly as work continues inside. The man responsible for the racket is one Pierce Rushlight - hard at work and sweating profusely despite the cool of the evening outside.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
Perhaps drawn by the warm light spilling onto the street by the store, a cloaked and hooded woman arrives upon the scene from the north, moving quickly and directly to the source of the rythmic clanging. She invites herself in, though this isn't the most unusual thing- it is a shop, after all, and what good are shops if one can't enter of ones own free will?

After pausing for the briefest of moments upon the threshold, she is completely within, licking her lips and glancing about with that usual critical and unimpressed gaze. "Rushlight!" She snaps, her tone cool and arrogant as ever.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The ringing stops as the blacksmith looks up from his work, startled by the intrusion. He glances over towards the door and to the visitor. Seeing Scarlet, Pierce sets the hammer down, straightens up and turns to offer a proper greeting. "'Evenin' Miss Greythorne. What can I do for you?" The question is natural in it's context, but it's delivery is slightly strained.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
Scarlet frowns, lightly. Then, with a quiet click of her tongue against her teeth, she takes a breath. "Well, Rushlight. As you know, there is a rush to find new GuildMasters all throughout Bree... I understand you were a member of the Craftsman's guild previously, yes?" A pause, and she continues, "I would like you to obtain the position. However I must say that I have heard of your incident with Ms. Faerhan the other night, and would like to express my disappointment. And anger, in fact."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The frown is mirrored by the blacksmith as the other event is mentioned. He reaches behind his back and loosens the strings to his leather apron as he walks to the counter. He places both hands on the counter and rests his weight against them. "Ms. Greythrone, it was an accident. The whole thing was an accident. I didn't know she was there, I didn't know she was so close, I just didn't know!"

He looks past Scarlet and on to the door. He swallows and drops his voice. "We were talking, mind you and I threw my hands up, not in fighting, but like this:" He demonstrates the movement and stops as both hands are raised in partial surrender. They linger there for a moment but drop back to the counter. He sighs slightly and looks at Ms. Greythorne as if trying to read her thoughts.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
Scarlet listens to the tale, though doesn't really appear to believe a word of it. "Listen, Mr. Rushlight. There are certain people in this town.. important, powerful people, with whom you should never, ever fight with. Ms. Faerhan is one of them... Now I am certain she may have some terms and conditions that will ensure you do not get sent to the Chief again, and I advize you to listen to them. Regardless, that is not what I came here to speak with you about."

Another pause, and she looks toward the forge, and seems to think of something. "Yes, the Guildmaster position, you must run for it. Also, I would like you to make me a dagger. I fear mine is not as satisfactory as I would like it to be."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The frown deepens so that it sets creases around his mouth. "Fine. I don't mean to. Don't mean to see her even." That business settled for the moment, Pierce's deamour settles a bit and he shifts into his shop owner mode. "Yes, I can get you a new dagger, how would you like it crafted?" He cocks his head slightly, noting a list of options on the wall. "You can take yer pick of how you want it."

[Scarlet(#30305)]
Scarlet Greythorn scowls coldly. "Do not skirt around the principle issue at hand, Rushlight. I care not how a dagger is crafted, as long as it does its job properly." These words sing out for a moment, then she continues, "It is the Guildmaster position with which I am more interested."

[Pierce(#32225)]
"Yes, to that." Pierce pauses, "I don't think that it'll work. I mean, I'm not the most popular guy in the guild, nor in Bree fer that matter. An' my craftswork is good, but it ain't the greatest. Sold, and sturdy, but not sterling." He starts to fold his arms across his chest, but stops and drops them back to the counter again.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
"Well, Mr. Rushlight, I shall see what can be done. Regardless, that is the plan. Good evening." And, with a sharp nod, the woman turns on her heel and strides from the store, quickly disappearing into darkness.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce stares as the woman hastily leaves. He shakes his head. "Guildmaster, bah." He too turns, and heads back towards the forge. He retires the apron strings and takes the now cold steel and thrusts it into back into the fires. He grabs the bellows and fans the flames. "This is insanity" he growls the words as he pumps, "I ain't never should have left Archet" He pulls the glowing rod from the fire. "Least. . ." clang "I . ." clang "had . . ." clang "friends . . ." clang. His face steels in the fresh heat and sweat starts to roll from his brow. A tear forms at the corner of his eye and he quickly scrubs it away with a clean corner of his shirt sleeve.

Pierce: Bree hill in the dark

=========== Bree Time =========
Real time: Tue Nov 29 21:41:55 2005
Bree time: Midnight <00:05:45> on Sterday of Autumn - October 8,1436
Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent Moon
============================
Breelands Weather: The midnight autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is clear and the moon shines brightly.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The clear night sky sparkles with scattered light of thousands of little stars. The top of Bree hill is bathed in the faint night light and only the darkest of shadows stand in contrast to the night about them. Off in the distance down the hill, the town of Bree twinkles with spots of yellowed lights gleaming into the darkness.

A cool breeze blows up over the hill, rustling one of the dark shadows. A cloak, to the observant, flutters in the sporadic breeze as a figure sits perched on a heavy rock. A faint yellowed glow, it's shape and flicker suggesting a covered lantern, casts a needle thin glow across burned leather boots. The man sits idly in the dark, his head resting in upturned hands.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
A scattering of rocks echoes through the still night, coming in the direction of the northeast. A scrambling sound, as if a large animal, or perhaps a human, follows the scattering, and then all sound ceases. Nary an owl hoots, nor a cricket chirps. Indeed, at this moment, even the clouds overhead seem to cooperate by drifting along in such a way that obscures the moon's glow. A crisp breeze marches across the hilltop, whipping about the leaves which have been evicted from their customary home, adding to the abuse by forcing them into yet again uncharted territory.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The noise catches the attention of the seated figure. He holds his breath for a moment as his lifted head, pivoting on a craned neck, looks off in the direction the sound eminated from. As the stars are evicted from their cloudy cover, they reflect in the dark eyes of the man, echoing an endless depth like deep black pools. With only the sound of his his boot scraped along the ground, he places his leg in front of the lantern, blocking all it's light. With his eyes still alert, he ceases movement.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
Darkness, absolute and total. Not a twinkle of starlight, nor a glow of lanternlight. In the northwest, the direction from whence the earlier sounds erupted, the faint swishing sound of a cloak might be heard by one who was trying to listen. But as dark as it is, a figure could move through the shadows unnoticed until it was nearly upon a person. From a few feet away, to the left, a throat is cleared.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The vigilant eyes swing quickly in the direction of the new sound. A gruff voice rumbles in a manner designed to diswade an animal of ill-intent, "Who's there?" The leg still covers the lantern, though it's midnight shadow may appear to be ansy.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
Laughter, soft and low, rings into the darkness. No words are spoken. No movements are made. Only amused laughter.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The motionless man suddenly springs to life. In one quick movement he kicks the lantern with his heal and rises to his feet. The heal to the lantern jars the small metal door which falls open flooding the few feet around the man in a feeble yellow glow, compliments of an ill prepared candle. For a brief moment, the lamp illuminates thick legs clothed in burn speckled pants and a heavy leather apron reaching almost to the knees. The man grabs the lantern and holds it aloft, the light now perched some seven feet in the air, and his own form cast again in darkness. No question, the voice whispers menacingly, "I said, 'who's there.'"

[Pierce(#32225)]
There is no reply, but the lantern slowly decends from it's height, like a flag being lowered in surrender. As it runs it's course, the light waxes on the face of it's holder, the blacksmith of Bree. The feeble flame flickers in his eyes, but the rest of his face is set in sullen reserve. His mouth is closed and it's edges turned down in a frown. The light slowly continues it's decent and the face is again lost in the shadows.

Pierce sets the lantern down on the rock, it rests uneasily on the uneaven surface. He, like the lantern, stands uneasily in on the hill. He shifts his weight and turns his head away from the voice. He clears his throat, "Can't a man find peace in the darkness?" The request is deficient of the raw anger of his previous words, and is instead asked almost with fear and trepidation.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
"A man must first find peace within before he can find it elsewhere, Rushlight. But I wouldn't expect one such as yourself to know that." Aleswyn adds on the last with a chuckle. Darkness still enshrouds her, and as yet she's made no move to step away from it. Darkness provides excellent protection in certain situations.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The answer does not sit well with the man and he redresses spitefully, "What do you want with me?"

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
"I want with you?" Aleswyn questions, managing to find an innocent tone of voice. "Why, you were sitting here waiting for me. So 'tis I who should be asking of you: "What do you want with me?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
A stutter rather than words seems to come from the man. As he collects himself, it coaleces into, "What?" He takes a step back, and this time his movement is not appreciated by the lantern that now falls to the ground. A timely gust of wind comes and kills the now exposed feeble flame. The man stands in heavy darkness.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
The woman allows the now-complete darkness to fully enshroud her in its embrace. The clouds shift again overhead to reveal a tiny sliver of the moon, and a few of the stars even manage to peek their heads out as if to catch a glimpse of the goings-on below. "I was here 'ere you; therefore, 'twas you who disturbed my peace this eve. Not I yours. Or were you needing me to speak in plainer words?" She taunts mercilessly.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Even under the cloak of darkness his annoyance is clear: "Then ye've been watchin' me for a right smart while as I've been sittin' here nigh near an hour thinkin'. Wholly to myself." He takes a step in a random direction, on that happens to be away from Aleswyn's location, and a sharp clink of metal against metal rings off the rock. A muffled thud quickly follows, as one would expect to be made by a hand being slammed into a leather bag or cape.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
The last sound, the one of a hand being slammed into a leather bag, sets Aleswyn's nerves on edge. She holds her position, not one easily daunted, but does slip a hand down to her ankle to release the dagger that had been strapped there. It is held tightly within the grip of her right hand, in case. The steel of the blade had been darkened, so that not even a glint in sunlight would give away its presence. "Then you did not . . . " she begins, then stops herself just as quickly, clamping her mouth shut. She moves not.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce stops moving as his visitor's statement fails. He turns around and faces the general direction the voice appears to be coming from. In the darkness a keen observer would be hard pressed but might note that his hands are empty. "Did not what?"

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
"Did . . not . . WHAT?" asks Aleswyn, obvious confusion sounding in her voice. A scratching sound in the night could be her scratching her head. "Rushlight, for once could you speak clearly?" she demands with irritation.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Now it is the Rushlight's turn for a rueful chuckle. "I don't know." He takes another step in the woman's direction, "You're the one who started ta say 'Then you did not' . . ." His foot falls and there is a heavy crunch as he steps on broken glass. "I don't know what ya were going to say. . . " The other foot falls another step closer. "So you need ta tell me." He stops moving and listens.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
If he'd thought to be intimidating by taking a few steps in her direction, the blacksmith failed miserably. When he stopped, she started up again, placing one foot in front of the other until she stands directly in front of him. Close enough that she could feel his breath upon her skin. "I need "ta tell you". Or else?" Aleswyn's head tilts to the side, regarding him and awaiting his answer most curiously.

[Pierce(#32225)]
"Or else?" His furrowed brow is lost in the shadows but his genuine confusion is clear as crystal, "Or else . . . I have no idea." He throws up his hands in surrender, but darkness plays it's cruel tricks and where empty space had been before the woman now stands. His hand rises quickly and catches the woman's face.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
Once again a victim to Pierce's cruelty, Aleswyn cries out in surprise. A warm liquid sprays from the vicinity of her nose and begins to trickle down her face. Of course, the night is still quite dark, though the clouds have separated just enough to allow the smallest crevice of light to shine on the ground a few feet away. She stands there, quite as dumb as a turkey caught in a rain storm, with blood oozing from her nose.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The contact is as much a surprise to the blacksmith and then hand quickly falls back. "I . . . I . . . I didn't mean ta hit ya!" The words oose with fear, "I don't want ta go back to jail!" He cries out and the words echo and ring back in his ears.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
Aleswyn tosses her head back to help stem the flow of blood. Her voice is strangely garbled as she speaks now, possibly because of the position in which her head lies, but probably in part because of the blood which now trickles down her throat and into her esophagus and past her larynx. "I am hit, yet you stand there crying. If for once you could act like a man, rather than a lad in knee pants, none of this would happen. Dry your tears, laddie, and decide if you wish to return to jail or not, for your fate rests with you tonight."

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce regains some of his composure and manages to ask with a voice almost under control. "How is that?"

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
Several moments pass in silence as Aleswyn stands there, her head tilted back, a thumb and index finger pinching at the bridge of her nose. Finally, she lowers her head to gaze into the darkness at her abuser. "Nevermind that just now, Rushlight. I will need an answer now as to whether or not you will cooperate with me. Is it an aye or a nay?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
A faint whisper, "What choice have I got?" preceeds his affirmation. "Yes, Miss, Aleswyn. I will cooperate." He speaks the last words and turns his gaze up into the sky, the few stars he can see reflect dully in his eyes.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
Though a smile would not be visible, as dark as this night has proven to be thus far, it is certainly evident in her voice as she speaks. "Excellent. Wise choise, Rushlight." As ever, she refuses to grant him the title of Mister. "You shall be hearing from me. Mind you come when called, laddie." She chuckles into the darkness, then turns around to head down the hill and back towards Northern Bree without another word.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The man stands there in silence alone with his thoughts. He steps to the side and bumps into the rock he had been sitting on previously. He drops down onto the rock and sighs heavily, head returning to his hands, though this time he buries his face.

"It's all wrong. An' I wasn't even angry." He defends himself to the passing breeze, which offers none of it's colsolation. It quickly passes like a sigh. A few stars peek through the clouds again, and cast a cold silver light onto the hilltop. The broken glass of the lantern is scattered about the man's feet and sparkles in the silver light like frozen tears. He sighs deeply, shoulders slumped.

"It's all wrong."

Shire: Muffin thief!

================ +SHIRE TIME ==========
RL (Arizona) Time is Sun Nov 27 21:36:50 2005 (+time).
------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 23:50:30 on Sunday, Winterfilth (October) 2, 1436 S.R.
-----------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
The temperature is mild, even warm, and a cloudless sky spans the Shire. The moon is hidden below the horizon.
===================================


Hobbiton (#8)
The center of Hobbiton, a small village even by the standards of the Shire-folk. Smials burrowed into the earth and cottages are clustered along the road, and all share certain peculiarities of hobbit architecture: they are low one-story dwellings with round doors (mostly green) and equally round windows. The largest structure is a pleasant guest cottage, just off the road to the south. A narrow river, The Water, meanders by just north of here, winding its way eastwards. A cobblestoned path to the adjacent village of Bywater leads east, North Hill Lane stretches northwards, and Hobbiton Lane continues to the west. There's a light in the window of the guest cottage (some hobbits are up late!) that casts just enough light for you to see your way around. Difficult to make out is a sign on the Big Tree of Hobbiton.

Deedee
Bingo


[Deedee(#30191)]
A brisk wind blows down and through the streets of hobbiton this bright autumn afternoon. Multi-coloured leaves dance along the roadways, spinning and tumbling like little firey dancers, and a hobbit lass, dressed in periwinkle blue steps out of the Muffin Tin with a basket over her arm. With a gasp, Deedee Pott very nearly loses her bonnet to the wind, and she sets the partially covered basket of muffins down next to her as she needs both hands to tie her ribbon tighter. Just as she does though, a slight tinkling sound attracts her attention and she looks down just in time to see a little dog with a bell on his collar snatch a muffin from her basket and run away. "Oh! Stop, you little fiend!" she cries.

[Bingo(#30494)]
Walking out of the Muffin Tin shortly after Deedee is Bingo, nothing in his hands and a stupid look on his face as he sees the dog run off with Deedee's muffin. "Oh my!" he says, watching in utter laziness for a moment before finally saying, "Well, I'm sure Dad will spring for another muffin for you. Or a dog if you really like your muffins being stolen." He smiles optimistically at this last comment.

[Benigo(#25240)]
The door to the stables is pushed ajar, just wide enough to allow the stout figure of Benigo Brownlock to sneak through the gap. He rubs his hands together as he kicks up a small flurry of harvest leaves.

"Welln, off ta find me a bite, an' an apple er two fer th' ponies!" The words no sooner leave his mouth, then he spies the nefarious animal with muffin in tow. He whistles shrilly at the canine. "Hey there!"

[Deedee(#30191)]
Deedee gives Bingo a withering look, "Oh, bro!" is all she says before begining to chase after the dog. The furry little thief stops dead in his tracks upon hearing Benigo's whistle, giving Deedee enough time to catch up with it...almost. However, the pup emits a muffled yelp and leaps foreward just in time for Deedee to trip on her own feet and land flat on the ground. She looks up with a groan, just in time to see a tail dissapear around the next corner.

[Bingo(#30494)]
Bingo laughs at his sister, shaking his head after a moment and starting toward her as he calls after the dog, "Hey! Bring that back here!" although he really doesn't seen to expect the dog to come back.

[Benigo(#25240)]
As the lass falls down, Benigo turns from the chase and heads over towards her. "Eh! Are you hurt?" His words echo off the buildings and turn not a few heads of the other noon day shoppers. A few young lads take up the chase and disappear in the direction the dog went, laughing and yelling. Moreso the common answer is a gasp and an offer for aide.

Benigo huffs as he reaches the lass, he squats down and asks again "You hurt?"

[Deedee(#30191)]
Deedee rolls over on her back with a slight moan, and looks up at the sky. Her eyes seem to be momenterily crossed, and only straighten themselves after she shakes her head. "No. I'm not think, I hurt." she pauses, looking confused, "I mean, I'm not hurt, I think." Propping herself up on her elbows, the slightly dazed lass begins trying to get to her feet.

[Benigo(#25240)]
A slight look of relief glances across the driver's face at both the lass's reply and her brother's attendence. Benigo holds out a thick calloused hand to the lass, "Ye gotta lern ta be more careful, even ifn it's about food."

"Muff'n stealin'. That ain't th' worst, leastwise not what I'm hearin'." These words are directed to Bingo, but are aired loudly enough that those with good hearing in the gathering crowd would catch it. He nods sagely.

[Deedee(#30191)]
Deedee smiles and takes the offered help to get to her feet, gladly. She chuckles and brushes her skirt clean of debris before replying to Bingo, "Oh nevermind, bro. It's just a muffin...And if the Bagginses are resorting to training dogs to steal...well.." she leaves her sentence open-ended, as Benigo has said all the more himself. Then, taking hold of her big brother's arm, Deedee steadies herself a bit more before attempting to walk.

[Bingo(#30494)]
A smile comes to Bingo's face, a raised eyegbrow at his sister as he ponders a few things apparently. "Oh, yes, yes. I see. If they're so bound and determined to steal muffins from the likes of you, my dear sister, then they are the cruelest people I've ever known (except for those scoundrels who watered down the ale back whenever that was). Hm... terrible, yes yes. What? Oh yes, let's be on our way, then, don't you think, my dear?"

[Benigo(#25240)]
Benigo bows slightly to the lass and her brother, "welln, glad she's okay." He mumbles "Best be gettin' on ta my errands." He nods and hurries off towards the Candle shop. A heavy tug at the door, and he disappears inside.

Daniel and the sword

====== Bree Time ======
Real time: Sun Nov 20 19:20:51 2005
Bree time: Late Afternoon <17:02:33> on Sunday of Autumn - September 11,1436
Moon Phase: First Quarter Moon
====================
Breelands Weather: The late afternoon autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The day sky is cloud-filled and gloomy.

[Pierce((#32225)]
The bright sunny September afternoon brings cheer to most folk in Bree: as is evidenced by the heavy traffic in the Bree marketplace. Sellers hawk their wares and buyers are all too happy to comply. The cheerful sound of business echos into the blacksmith shop through it's open doors and windows, and is met by the pealing sounds of iron striking iron.

In the oppresive heat of the fires, a lone blacksmith slaves over his glowing work. The man, clothed in the heavy leather coat and apron, holds the glowing piece aloft, turns it in gloved hands and then plunges it into a barrel of water, filling the room with steam. Pierce removes the piece inspects the vaguely sword shaped metal and then thrusts it back into the fires. He turns it with one hand and wipes a gritty brow with the back of the other.

[Daniel(#7705)]
In steps the Chief; stopping just inside the front room and searching for the smith. He sees him, apparently hard at work, and steps in toward him. He stops more than an arm's reach from Pierce and waits for his presence to be noted.

[Pierce((#32225)]
The presence of the Chief is quickly noticed by the blacksmith. He casts a sideways glance at the man as he pulls the fledgling weapon from the fires of the forge. He sets the glowing rod on a rack to cool and removes his leather gloves before he addresses the man, somewhat cooly. "Afternoon, Cap'n."

[Daniel(#7705)]
The Chief watches him plainly. "Afternoon, Mr. Rushlight. How are things faring?" His eyes search the room, looking for finished products.

[Pierce((#32225)]
The hand swipes the brow again as Pierce replies. "Not too badly. . . . Good actually. Puttin' in double shifts to meet demands." He catches Daniel's eyes roving the room, and he quickly glances in the same general direction. "Is, uh . . everything, good wit' you?" Despite the heat, the blacksmith gives a slight shiver. "I ain't been doin' anything wrong. So, no bad reports, right?" He asks hopefully.

[Daniel(#7705)]
"There is a vacancy in the guild." His response. A non-responsive response. "Who do you think will be appointed guild master, Mr. Rushlight?" The eyes drift back to the blacksmith's, examining him carefully.

[Pierce((#32225)]
The question catches Pierce ill-prepared. He rubs his nose and then reaches into his leather jacket for a handkerchief. "Ahh, well. I don't rightly know. Ain't no one gonna replace ol' Isaac. Jacob Primerose might try for it, but his works ain't worth the metal they're made of." Then to accent his assessment, he snorts, conviently into the handerchief that now covers his nose. He folds the dirt stained cloth and stuffs it back into his shirt pocket.

[Daniel(#7705)]
The Chief takes his comments in; mulling over them and nodding slowly. He steps closer to Pierce, and talks more quietly now. "I trust you have a . . . cordial . . . relationship with Ms. Greythorn underway?"

[Pierce((#32225)]
"Oh, eh, yes. I guess I do." He swallows uncomfortably, and scans the room again. His eyes don't return to the Chief. "I guess I do. She's only been but nice." He frowns slightly, and his hands heads to his chest --- something that hasn't happened since he was in the Headquarters.

[Daniel(#7705)]
Another cool series of nods. "That is good to hear. That . . . things are going well since your release, as I had hoped." The statement is almost a question. "Mr. Rushlight, had you any thoughts on taking up the master's position yourself?"

[Pierce((#32225)]
Pierce does not answer immediately. Instead his hands scratches at his neck, rubbing the discoloured spot. "Well. " The eyes finally return to the chief. "To be honest, the thought crossed my mind. But I know that I ain't the best smith in the guild, an'" He looks down at his hands that bare various scars from the last years' events. "as you know, I ain't the most popular person in the town these days. Even if some folks are forgettin. Most still remember"

[Daniel(#7705)]
"It is those in the guild that matter. They will select you. I think it advisable that you seek the position." He turns his back on Pierce. "I also think it wise if you consult Ms. Greythorn on this matter. You two may come to a good . . . plan for securing the approval of those in the guild. And you will have my backing, whatever it is. No matter the means."
End of discussion. "Have you that sword I ordered?" He looks around for it.

[Pierce((#32225)]
"Alright then." The words are meeted out with doubt. "Though, I will do as you sugest an' speak with Ms. Greythorne." The change in conversation is met with less intrepidation. "Oh, yes. Hol' on." The man disappears into the back room for a long moment and then returns carrying a carefully wrapped bundle. "I set it aside, so to keep folks from asking for it." He sets the bundle down on the counter next to the chief.

You drop Short Sword.

Short Sword
A finely crafted short sword. It's modest length blade is highly polished and ends in a hard wood handle. The handle is wrapped in darkly stained leather that is woven in a criss-cross pattern down it's entire length. The butt of the weapon is capped with a shiny ball with the initials 'PR' etched into it

[Daniel(#7705)]
The Chief follows the bundle with his eyes, and then opens it to examine it. He doesn't even bother testing it except to grasp its handle briefly. "Good. I also need . . . a bow and a club now. If you are able, I would like to have those made. How much?" He lifts the blade now, pointing it away from Pierce and examining the metal.
Daniel picks up a Short Sword.


[Pierce((#32225)]
"I worked may nights on that blade, sir. I'm hopin' it meets your expectations." He rests a hand on the cool part of the brickwork around the fires. "Eh. I'll have to check the guild's prices fer the club an' bow." With a lower tone he adds, "Though, I don't know what yer expectin' to pay."

A young girl enters the shop timidly, and the ingenue comes to the counter next to the chief. Her brown eyes look from Daniel to Pierce. She timidly asks the blacksmith, "'Allo there. Mum axed me ta cum an' see bout 'er knife. Is it done yet?"

[Daniel(#7705)]
The Chief sees the opportunity to take his leave, and simply offers a nod to Pierce. He leaves a bag of coins on the counter nearby, and heads out the door.

[Pierce((#32225)]
The blacksmith nods to the chief, reaches his hand over and slides the bag across the counter. He leans the counter and addresses the little girl. "And what's you're name, again, missy?" The girl giggles and goes up on her tip toes to whisper to the blacksmith. He smiles and nods and "That I do. I'll be right back." He steps into the back room and starts rummaging through the cabinets.

A Meeting at the Forge

=============== Bree Time ===============
Real time: Thu Nov 10 22:19:45 2005
Bree time: Midnight <2:59> on Highday of Summer - August 11,1436
Moon Phase: First Quarter Moon
======================================
Breelands Weather
The midnight summer air is very hot and dry around you. The dark sky is overcast and dreary.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Midnight: The town of Bree lays deathly quiet in the sultry heat; even the notcural beasts are still. Windows are held open wide with little relief from the oppression. Most of the market streets are dark, save a few bright yellowed patches of ground lit by the windows of the Blacksmith shop cast from open windows and an open door: A rare sight this late at night.

The Door is held open, not only by a chock, but also by the blacksmith in charge: Pierce Rushlight. His visage is covered in soot and leans tiredly against the door frame smoking an small pipe. He still wears his work apron and from his generally blackened appearance it is obvious that he has been working late.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
A smokey smell drifts through the heavy air. With it, a figure moves quietly, stealthily across the square. There is little noise from her feet, and the grey of her cloak and hook blends well with the darkness of the night. A voice, clear, sharp and arrogant cuts through the silence. "Well, well, Mr. Rushlight. It is quite late to be working, is it not?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
The pipe falls out of Pierce's mouth, and he fumbles to catch it, burning his hands on the smouldering weed in the process.

"Eyah!" The hand goes into his mouth. He looks around, but he does not see the source of the voice. The hand comes out of the mouth long enough to ask: "Hello?"

[Scarlet(#30305)]
Scarlet Greythorn, like a wisp of cloud, steps into the light cast by the blacksmith's windows. "Be careful now, Mr. Rushlight. It would not serve you well to injure those hands. They would be an important tool in your trade, I think." The tones are low, and level, calm, cool... no, cold.
She steps closer. "Hello, Mr. Rushlight."

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce's mouth falls open into a full gape, allowing his hand to fall freely back to his side. The pipe, held in the other hand is entirely forgotten. He searches the street quickly and points into the shop. His words are tinged with nervousness "Eh, Ms. Greythorn, please come inside."

[Scarlet(#30305)]
One eyebrow raises- she seems pleased. "How kind of you, Mr. Rushlight, I think I may just." And she strides forward- that gust of breeze that follows anyone moving at any decent speed smelling of that sweet smoke. Once inside, she removes cloak and hood, and turns to watch the man carefully. "How are you faring, hmm?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
The blacksmith follows Scarlet into the building and quickly closes the door behind them. His expressions stays unsettled, but he busies himself with a few quick tasks for the unexpected company. He puts his pipe on a small shelf and then scrubs his hands on the under apron, a simple heavy linnen piece that had, up until the hand scrubbing, managed to remain fairly untarnished.

The blacksmith finally turns to respond to the question. "Well, I'm still alive, though I'm not sure some days how I'm managin' to stay so. Thanks fer asking." He rubs the back of his neck, but it relieves no tension. "An' You?"

[Scarlet(#30305)]
Scarlet smirks lightly, and allows her eyes to cast about the surroundings in a critical fashion.. one that might be used my a mother-in-law, or fussy wife... although Scarlet is anything but fussy, that's beside the point. Something in his speech catches her attention, and she frowns. "Not managing to stay so? How is this? Have people been threatening you?" Although it is not concern about his life that's expressed here, but that someone should go against /her/. If someone were to threaten one of her companions, it would, of course, be a personal attack against her. The second qeustion is ignored.

[Pierce(#32225)]
"Ahh, well . . " The thick hand rubs the stocky neck with more vigor. He hesistates and deliberates on his words: "It was worse when I first got out, but no new scars ta show for it this time."

He sighs, "But I'm workin' again, and people are startin' ta trust me with my wares." He points to a new weapon lying on the work bench. The fires of the forge dance in the polished metal of the newly fashioned short sword. He folds his arms and nods with satisfaction at his work.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
The woman nods, in a somewhat bored fashion. If all is well, all is well. "Ah, that is good. And that is important. I have something to ask of you. Nothing dangerous, mind, and it would probably boost your popularity..." Distracted, Scarlet moves over toward the short sword, and to pick it up without asking.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce almost objects to any handling of the weapon, but his words come up short. "Oh?" is all that escapes his lips. The word is formed with both curosity and dread, and the sentiment is mirrored in his eyes, which he quickly averts from the woman.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
And she takes up the sword, and swings it about inexpertly, though with one hoping to look like they knew exactly what they were doing. In accordance with this, she looks along the blade too, swings it about a few more times, then sets it back on the counter. "Very well. Basically, there is to be an election coming up shortly. The current Chief of the Breeguards shall be a candidate for the Head of Council position. I wish that you should simply do what is within your power to talk with your friends and associates and advise that they vote for him, that is all. I am not asking you to blackmail, nor bribe anyone. Simply talk with them. And you owe it to the Chief- he released you from prison, after all."

[Pierce(#32225)]
"Oh. I can do that." His face brightens and his breathes a sigh of relief as much for the request as for the woman returning the weapon back to the counter. He reaches for a soft cloth and picks up the weapon. He rubs the blade, removing the finger prints while he talks.

"Aye, I guess I do. He did let me out. I'll talk it up wit' the other guild members." He carefully puts the weapon into a leather sheath and sets it back on the counter, just far enough away to avoid another patron's idle hands.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
Scarlet appears to consider this. "Yes, mention it to them, though they are only 3 other votes. It is your friends, family, customers, associates that are important." She scrunches up her nose in thought. "Yes, that should do well." She moves toward the doorway. "I think that is all... If I think of something else I shall find you. Really, it is a ridiculous hour to be working." The woman opens the door.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce points at the sword he just set down, "Well, I was tryin' to get this finished fer the Chief." He yawns slightly, "I just finished it tonight. Glad the forge ain't near where people are
sleepin'."

[Scarlet(#30305)]
Scarlet glances back, with a frown, and asks in a tone that is supposed to sound uninterested, "The sword is for the Chief?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
The interest is lost as Pierce becomes preoccupied with the weapon, and also with his revelation. "Well, yes. It . . . Um. " He looks up at Scarlet and thinks for a very long second, "He ordered it." The words are less than believable.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
"Hmmm.... now, that is interesting. Although I suppose the Chief of the Breeguards needs a sword." She thinks for a moment, then nods her head, "Good evening, Mr. Rushlight." And with that, she steps out the door, and back into the heavy night.

Flash Forward Time Line

The logs from the Flash Forward are complete! (At least the onest that I have. I'm missing eposide #6 - Gandalf on Weathertop. If you have it, please +mail benigo@elendor.)

• Scene 1 - Bucklebury Ferry
• Scene 2 - West Gate
  
• Scene 3 - Hobbit Quarters
  
• Scene 4 - Common Room
• Scene 5 - Leaving Bree
  
• Scene 6 - Gandalf on Weathertop
  
• Scene 7 - The Hobbits on Weathertop
  

Please note, that if you discover any issues with these logs, let me know.  +mail is best.

Captian of the Guard interviews Pierce

================= Bree Time ===============
Real time: Sun Oct 30 22:41:41 2005
Bree time: Late Night <4:04> on Sunday of Summer - July 8,1436
Moon Phase: New Moon
========================================
Breelands Weather
The late night summer air is very hot and dry around you. The night sky is clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead. The moon is above the horizon and in its new phase.


[Daniel(#7705)]
There is a pounding on the cell door that echoes slightly in the cell; the sounds of an iron bolt rattling against its lock. "Mr. Rushlight!" The sounds of stool legs scraping a wood floor can be heard coming from the other side of the door, and the Chief's small brown eyes appear intensely through the rectangular hole.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The occupant of the cell jumps at the noise. A groggy reposne: "Eh? What?"

[Daniel(#7705)]
"Mr. Rushlight. I'll be releasing you." Comes the voice. The voice of the chief. "A few words first."

[Pierce(#32225)]
"Release?" No more sleep in that word. "Alright then." Pierce sits up. His eyes are puffy from sleep and more likely than not, crying. The rash on his chest is rather raw and encrusted with dry flecks of blood.

[Daniel(#7705)]
The sight of recent tear-shedding causes the chief's eyes to narrow somewhat through the rectangular hole. His words are cutting. "Mr. Rushlight, if the circumstances were different, you'd find yourself spending a lot more time in here, after which, you'd either be thrown into bree-hill pond, driven out of town, or something worse. You'd lose your business . . . everything. You have caused more trouble in Bree than anyone in recent memory. You are indeed fortunate, to be released like this. You will speak to no one about anything said in here, understood? If you violate this understanding, you will find your new found security very quickly taken away."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The blacksmith nods. "I understand."

[Daniel(#7705)]
"Good." The chief appreciates simplicity, though his eyes examine the smith probingly. "Now, Mr. Rushlight. A few conditions. One: you will not cause anymore trouble in Bree publicly. If the name 'Rushlight' and some form of trouble become connected at anypoint, you will find yourself facing treatment far worse than the townsfolk currently wish for you. I leave it up to you to find some creative way to avoid having your name connected with unwanted conduct in the future. I am sure you can think up something, or confer with any new friends you might have gained."
The chief continues. "Next, you will discuss with no one the circumstances of your release from here, or the incident which caused your arrest. Third, you will have no contact with Ms. Faerhan, ever again. Fourth, you will forge me a short sword. You are a smith, correct?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
"I think" Pierce does indeed look as if he's trying hard to think. "that that should work. I'll be doing my best to avoid troubles anyways." He rubs the raw spot on his neck. "An' I think, if I can get near a forge and some metal, that I might be able to make you a nice new sword."

At this moment, Pierce stops. He looks at the ground for a long moment, the while is ears turn red. "But, I have to ask if . . ." again another pause. "Oh, how do I say this?" When his head is brought back up, his brow is firmly furrowed.

[Daniel(#7705)]
Passivity. The probing brown eyes continue their probing. The Chief remains silent.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The missing words arrive and rush out in a heap: "I need ta talk to Ms. Faerhan again. Though, I don't need ta be there by myself. No, not by myself." He bites his lip and looks up at the little window and searches the eyes beyond.

[Daniel(#7705)]
"And what do you need to talk to Ms. Faerhan regarding?" Cooly and rationally spoken.

[Pierce(#32225)]
"It's just that something's troublin me." He stands up and walks over to the far side of the cell and stares intently at the wall. "I don't know if the guards tol' you or not. but Mister Heatherfield stopped by to speak with me before." He turns around and looks at the door. "He said something that set me rather on edge, and I need ta ask Ms. Faerhan a question to find out. . ." He grimaces: "if it's true." Pierce shakes his head, this time his face turns red and his various scars turn deep crimson.

[Daniel(#7705)] "Tell me what Mr. Heatherfield told you," the Chief replies evenly.

[Pierce(#32225)]
"Well, " Pierce starts pacing in the cell, much like a caged animal. "Now, mind you. I don't know where he got this idea, but somethin' doesn't fit." He snorts, and mutters to himself "Not that any of this is fittin'. All this whispering and not telling who's who and what's what." He moves nearer the door, but not to get too close to the constable, but to look past him to see if anyone else is in the outer room. He swallows and shakes his head. "No. It don't make sense."

[Daniel(#7705)]
The Chief's response is to simply wait. No further question is necessary. His eyes track the pacing prisoner methodically.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The paused query is soon delivered. Pierce stops and looks out the cell window "Okay: Mister Heatherfield came in, said he was just off talking with Ms. Aleswyn before he came over. He was concerned for me. I thanked him for that. But he kept asking, why I tried to kill Ms. Aleswyn." The statement is ill at ease in Pierce's mouth, and it shows. "But, the question that jittered me the most was this: He said, and rightly so, that we were talking about families, and that Ms. Aleswyn's husband was unfaithful. And then. . .then he asked me, and this I need to know: Was Ms. Aleswyn's husband, really my father? Only She could answer that for me." He drops his head. "I know, It ain't never come to my mind before, but now that the thought was planted, I need to ask." He searches the constable's eyes emploringly.

[Daniel(#7705)]
The brown eyes widen dramatically, and there is a long, calculated silence, eventually followed by, "You do not know who your parents are, Mr. Rushlight?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
"Yes, yes. But, " he turns away from the window again, "there's this doubt. Just some little things I've been thinking about since he left that don't make sense. I mean, I had a father and a mother, but how do I know that he's really my father?" He turns and faces the door again, eyes glistening once more. "Even if it ain't true, this whole last year my life's been one big mess." Despite his huge frame and firey temper, Pierce's voice trembles: "I don't know what to believe no more."

[Daniel(#7705)]
The chief's voice slices in, demonstrating his concern, or lack thereof for Mr. Rushlight's plight. "Well, I certainly have no clue. I know not who Ms. Faerhan's husband was." Only the slightest pause. "You have agreed to my conditions Mr. Rushlight then? There are two routes for you at this point. You are to control your actions, and to quiet down. I expect you to maintain your smith shop, go about your business . . . all of your business, whatever the nature or command. I intend to put a stop to all of this chaos in Bree, and I am starting with you. If you do as I say, I think you will find this mess moving behind you, and a new found security and niche within our community."
There's the sound of keys unlocking the door. "Oh, and Mr. Rushlight? I wouldn't concern yourself with speculation about who your father might be. There's no way to prove such things one way or the other. If you knew your father to be your father, than I'd suggest you accept that." The door swings open with a loud creak.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The blacksmith is less than enthused with the response to his request. "Yes sir. But . . ." An ill fitted response which is soon corrected. "I mean thank you. I mean." His hand heads towards his throat for the first time since the healer left. As the door opens, Pierce looks out, "That's it?" He shakes his head with obvious confusion. He swallows his words: "Who is this Ms. Greythorn that I'm gettin' out so easily?" He walks through the door, "An' I'll be getting that sword made straight away."

[Daniel(#7705)]
"Greythorne?" the Chief asks as the door is open more widely, and Mr. Rushlight is given the space to pass out. "Greythorne? What do you mean, Mr. Rushlight? I'm releasing you on the conditions I have set for you. What does Greythorne have to do with it? Suspicious woman, that one."

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce nods as he passes the constable and exits the cell, "Suspicious." He stretches his arms, rubs his wrists and then his neck. "If it's not too much to ask, " he says with some hesistation, "May I have my staff and my dagger back? I mean, not that I'd use them again."

[Daniel(#7705)]
Daniel comments passively as Pierce leaves. "Remember, Mr. Rushlight. Keep a low profile, and things will go smoothly."