Random Thoughts

Pierce: Scarlet at night

2005-12-03T23:43:00.000-05:00

============= 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

2005-11-30T00:23:00.000-05:00

=========== 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!

2005-11-27T23:52:00.000-05:00

================ +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

2005-11-20T20:27:00.000-05:00

====== 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

2005-11-11T00:39:00.000-05:00

=============== 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

2005-11-02T15:39:00.000-05:00

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.)


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

Captian of the Guard interviews Pierce

2005-10-31T00:44:00.000-05:00

================= 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."

Trelgo visits the prisoner

2005-10-30T20:54:00.000-05:00

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Sun Oct 30 18:51:28 2005
Bree time: Mid Afternoon <3:34> on Sunday of Summer - July 8,1436
Moon Phase: New Moon
==============================================
Breelands Weather
The mid afternoon summer air is very hot and dry around you. The day sky is cloud-filled and gloomy.

[Trelgo(#7464)]
The diminutive healer enters the guard-house and looks around the place with the self-consciousness of someone who is a stranger to such surroundings. He starts to speak to one of the guards. "Excuse me, please," he says politely, "I'm Trelgo Heatherfield. I'm here to see Mr. Rush-" He stops in mid-sentence when he sees the blacksmith emerging from his cell. "Oh! There you are. I came to see you!"

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce turns his head quickly when the familiar voice of the healer calls out. He stands hands in iron shackles and flanked by two of the larger guardsmen, both with weapons drawn. A quizzical look is quickly replaced by one of embarrassment: his ears pink and his head drops slightly. "Ahh, Mister Heatherfield, sir? What brings you here?"

[Trelgo(#7464)]
"Why! I'm here to see you," Trelgo answers, not in his usually cheerful tone, but with a tone that suggests that he has some serious business on his mind. He glances around the facilities and says, "You seem to have come into some serious trouble, and that's turning the phrase mildly."

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce chuckles wryly, mirth replacing his normal deposndant demeanor of late. "Midly isn't a word I'd use here." He raises his left hand dragging the right one along with it. His fingers scratch at a raw patch of skin at the base of his neck. His blue shirt is stained with sweat and spotted with blood around the rash. His eyes study the healer for a moment.

The guard on Pierce's left side is a younger man, by looks he would appear to be only a few years in service to Bree. He does, however, almost match Pierce in stature, the greatest requist for his current position. The neophyte glances at the veteran guard as Pierce stops moving to talk with the healer. "Josiah, what should. . ." The older guard quiets him with a look. "Let him talk. He's had prescious few visitors and none that carry a plesant word." The younger man nods.

[Trelgo(#7464)]
Trelgo steps toward the prisoner and says, "I've heard talk from all quarters of Bree about you, but I wanted to hear the story from you directly. What exactly happened?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
The hand stops scratching. "What happened?" The question is echoed. "Well. . . It was all a big misunderstanding." His voice falters but he quickly picks up a well-rehearsed narrative: "Well, Mister Heatherfield, we were havin' this chat, and it turned to things past. Ms. Aleswyn was sharing some, ehm, past hurts and it brought back to mind some of my own." He nods on this point. "You remember my telling you about Anna." His voice drops on the latter words, which causes the younger guard to lean in. The other guard snorts, "Naw. Let'em be." Pierce throws a sideways glance at guard. He drops his words lower so only the healer can hear: "I do still miss Anna terribly so. And you know this temper of mine; it has a way of gettin' me into troubles. I don't know what I thought I heard, but it for certain wasn't what was said. Ms. Aleswyn didn't deserve to get hurt."

[Trelgo(#7464)]
The healer patiently listens to the man's story, then asks, "What, exactly, did you hear? What did she say, or what did you hear her saying, that would cause you almost to /kill/ her?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
Thin beads of sweat form at Pierce's brow. He swallows, looks away and answers: "I don't know. Mister Heatherfield. I don't know." His eyes are scared. "It's just my temper!" The word gets a rise from both guards as the older one takes a step closer to the blacksmith. "Careful, Mister Rushlight." The older guard warns. "We don't want to have to drag you back in your cell, just as you were going out to get a breath of air." Pierce winces at the thought and nods solemnly. "No, mister Heatherfield, here, he's helped me in the past. . ." He turns back to Trelgo, "It's just hearing Ms. Aleswyn talk about her late husband, an' then thinkin' about what happened to Anna, and all. " His eyes genuinely star to glisten. "Oh, but I do miss, her. I don't know mister Heatherfield. Maybe nothin' at all."

[Trelgo(#7464)]
"I understand," The healer consoles. "Memory can be a powerful thing. You say that when she talked about her husband, that triggered your rage? What about your family? Did memories of your family, beside Anna, have some part in all of this?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
A sigh. Pierce releases his breath as if he'd been holding it the entire time. "No. " The answer isn't difinitive, but is sure enough. He lowers his voice again as grave wrinkles line his forehead.

"I haven't tol' too many this, mister Heatherfield. But I just found out, not but one year past, that my fiancee, bless her soul, was murdered!" A tear runs down his cheek. "I thought she'd died of somethin' like a plague. An'. . ." Pierce takes a moment to try and regain his composure. He almost succeeds, "I didn't know it. I shoulda been there for her. Kept her safe. . ." His words fail begin to fail.

[Trelgo(#7464)]
"But why did that thought provoke you to strangle Ms. Faerhan? What does she have to do with it? I talked to her, and she said that she had been telling you about her own husband, and his /mistress/. She said that at /that/ point, your temper flared. I'm wondering why the thought of her husband or her husband's mistress would provoke you."

[Pierce(#32225)]
"No. I wasn't provoked!" His words are hotter than before, though still full of remose. The blacksmith bends down, bringing his height closer to that of the healer, though even doubled over, he still stands a few inches taller.

"Mr. Heatherfield, please." He licks his lips, "I don't know /what/ she said. But you're right. She was speakin' about what happened to her husband." Pause. "She didn't say nothing else. Didn't have to. Hearin' someone else' love gettin' murdered was more than' I could bear. I just lost it! Why would someone want to kill my Anna?!"

The prisoner throws his shackled hands up, which unfortunately cause Pierce to loose his footing. He flails the chained arms, but manages only to fall back, right into torso of the big guard. Like a large domino, the guard stumbles under the heavy load. Faster than lightening, the older guard grabs the shackles and pulls Pierce back upright. "Careful, Mister Rushlight, we wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

[Trelgo(#7464)]
Trelgo glances around the room until he sees a chair. He crosses the room, lifts the heavy chair awkwardly, and brings it to the prisoner. He says, "I doubt that the guards will object to your sitting in this." Then he sighs and says, "When I talked to Ms. Faerhan, she mentioned how you had reacted when she talked about her husband being murdered. She said that her husband had a mistress, which means that he was not faithful to her. Then I had a strange thought. I asked her about your parents. She wasn't sure about your family, and I wondered if you might have reacted so strongly because her husband and your father might be the same person."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The simple question stuns Pierce. He stands in front of the chair, face devoid of all colour. A long silence is followed by a shaken head and a raspy "No."

Pierce blinks.

The two guards look at Pierce and exchange glances. The younger one whispers, "Should I get 'im some water or something?"

Josiah watches Pierce's expression carefully. He leans over in a harsh whisper and instructs "No. Just stay there. This is when he'll go off the deep end, I reckon. Best be ready, just in chase. Have your sword at hand."

Pierce lowers himself into the chair, "No. My mother wasn't unfaithful. I'm my father's son." Strangely, however, the words lack the common conviction that one would expect from the blacksmith, especially after the series of recent outburst that Bree has recently experienced.

[Trelgo(#7464)]
The healer steps toward the blacksmith, showing obvious concern on his face. He gently says, "I didn't want to bring more trouble to you than what you already have, but I thought that you needed to know about it." He pauses, takes a deep breath, and says, "And all of Bree needs answers, and to understand what happened and why it happened. You have a whole village beyond that door, full of people who are worrying about what you'll do next." He nods toward the door to the house when he says this.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The blacksmith doesn't hear the healer's words immediately. His gaze is still far beyond the walls of the room and even Bree Proper itself. The moment passes. Pierce lowers his gaze back to the healer. He starts to sound irritated "What I'll do next? what next?"

[Trelgo(#7464)]
"That depends, to a great deal, on you." The healer answers. "Before she became hysterical, Mrs. Faerhan also said that she felt bad for you. She knows that you were grieving. She knows that grieving people can behave badly. She said that the whole thing was a misunderstanding. Now, that should count for something."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The left shackled hand rises in the air and comes down forcably on the armrest of the chair. Both guards jump and land one on each side of the blacksmith.

"Hey there now!" A sharp point from Josiah's blade is resting at the base of Pierce's neck. "Hold 'is hand down there, Gappy!" The younger guard complies and clamps his hands on Pierce's, holding the errant arm firmly on the armrest. Josiah does the same with the other arm.

The elder guard speaks with a not wholly kind tone. "Mister Rushlight, now I know I warned you about you're temper. You'll have to keep that under control, if you don't want to left in chains when we put you back in your cell." He looks at the healer and tsks, "This little folk asked you a right reasonable question, one that's for your best interest, I'd reckon, so be careful. You have too few friends left, so don't go scarin' one off."

Pierce stares up at the guard and gives a half growl, though, understandly, he doesn't move for the blade stays where it has been placed.

The guard stares down Pierce. "Mister Heatherfield, it was, as you put it, a mistake. I didn't mean no harm. Well, not intentional anyways." He grimaces, "I didn't used to be like this, all since I found out about Anna!"

[Trelgo(#7464)]
Trelgo watches the guards attempting to control the blacksmith. He suggests, "For now, you need rest and time to come to terms with all of this. The strange part is that this might be the safest place for you for now. These gentlemen," He nods to the guards, "will see that you're safe from the folks who want to harm you, and when the time is right, you'll be ready to settle this thing."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The words placate Pierce and he relaxes slightly. However, the tip of the blade does not move from its resting place. He breathes heavily but makes no motion to move. "Mister Heaterfield, I know I got a problem with my temper. An' Everyone else does too." he looks up at the helpful guards. Gappy shrugs and gives a half smile. Josiah remains emotionless. "But I don't know how I'm gonna get it under control."

[Trelgo(#7464)]
Trelgo nods solemnly and says, "I know, and that's also why I came here. I still want to be sure that you have the chance to set things to rights. It probably won't be easy, but, as you know, things that are worthwhile often aren't easy. I'll return to check on you, and if you need me before then, you know where to send for me." With that, and a respectful bow to the guards and then to the blacksmith, the hobbit heads toward the door.

[Pierce(#32225)]
"Thank you!" Pierce calls out to Trelgo as he walks out. The guards remain unmoved, holding Pierce pinned to the chair. He grunts, but waits as the guards deliberate what to do next.

A Moment of joy

2005-10-29T23:23:00.000-04:00

============== Bree Time ============
Real time: Sat Oct 29 20:16:02 2005
Bree time: Dusk <7:47> on Mersday of Summer - July 5,1436
Moon Phase: New Moon
==================================
Breelands Weather
The dusk summer air is very hot and dry around you. The sky is clear and the sunlight shines brightly.

[Pierce()]
The setting summer sun throws it's orange fingers into the cramped cell which a blacksmith still calls home. He leans back against the thick wall, slouching, and idly stares out the window. A small tray of simple food sits next to him on a an equally small table. His meal is untouched.

[Scarlet()]
Two young voices cry joyfully in the way that only young voices can on a hot summer day. Two little legs run past the window of the cell, in which the blacksmith is kept. For them, it is probably about knee-height. These two would appear to be about six years old, and twins by the looks- one girl, and one boy. Their faces are dusty, and they have sugar on their hands, and under their noses. Soon after they have past, they run back, and drop to the ground in a crouch, in order to peer in. "Look, look, Regan! There's that nasty man everyone's been talkin' about, lookit him!" The other figure peers through the bars, and the nose wrinkles. "He hasn' ate his food... maybe 's no good!"

[Pierce()]
The two voices echo the familiar theme like the other susurrus and various whispers heard through the window for so many days, and the man doesn't even rise from his makeshift bed. Instead, he answers them from where he is. "No, not bad, just not hungry. I've nothin' ta do, so I don't eat as much as when I'm workin'."

[Scarlet()]
The twins draw in a sharp breath as he talks. Of course kids have heard all sorts of things about this man, now. None of them flattering, and some involving wooden legs, monstrous eyes, and other terrible things. "Oh... maybe he'd eat a pastry. Regan go get a pastry from Tatty Rebecca." The little voice insists, and pushes at her brother. And, as if the man was unable to hear these conversations, she turns her face back to the cell, "Regan is goin' to go get you a pastry."

[Pierce()]
The blacksmith chuckles briefly, the sound foreign to his ears after his long internment. "Well, thank you." He says. He makes a move to rise from his bench, but stops before he really strays from his current position. "It's not often I hear a kind word these days." His words carry a deep sorrow in them.

[Scarlet()]
Cally frowns- Regan has not left yet but lingers uncertainly at his sister's side, tugging her sleave as a way to gain her attention. "Well Mama says that everybody needs to eat, and if you aren't eating then you might die." Despite having previously called the man horrible, this girl seems to be of the opinion that it's still important to eat. "Hurry up, Regan. Go and run to Tatty Becca!" The boy disappears and can be heard crunching off at a run down the road.

[Pierce()]
The blacksmith smiles at the simple words of the girl. "Don't worry about me dyin' from not eating." He says simply. "I've eaten, before today. Just doesn't settle well." He nods towards the plate. "It's edible, but not like your mom makes, I'm sure." He sits up, but does not make any approach towards the window.

[Scarlet()]
The wide eyes flick from the left over food, to the man, and she frowns just lightly, and wrinkles her little nose. "Well if you are eating then it is okay." Her attention is drawn elsewhere. "I probably shouldn't stay, me and Regan were goin' to go visit a friend 'n now we'll be late, but I'll make sure Regan brings your pastry later tonight. Bye, mister!" And she stands, and can be soon heard crunching away at a run after her brother.

[Pierce()]
As soon as the face disappears from the window, the man jumps to his feet and hurries over to the window. "No, wait! Don't go!" He earnestly calls out after the child, but the call is too little too late, and the lass is gone. Pierce steps down from the window, turns his back against the wall. His face is twisted slightly, but he sighs. Sourly he says, "I ain't had a friendly talk in so long, even a 5 year-old makes for good company." He rubs his nose and sniffles. Sigh. He heads back to his bench and sits again. The thing fingers of the setting sun crawl out of the room, leaving only a thin whispy glow through the cracks in the door from the room beyond the cell.

Scarlet makes Pierce an Offer

2005-10-27T19:21:00.000-04:00

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Thu Oct 27 16:19:02 2005
Bree time: Early Morning <7:56> on of Summer - Midsummer 3,1436
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent Moon
===============================================================================
[Bree Function Object(#106)->Pierce]
Breelands Weather
The early morning summer air is very hot and dry around you. The day sky is clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
It is early morning in the town of Bree, however the people are awake and bustling already. The air carries warmth, suggesting another hot day to come. The breeze is very faint- hardly existant at all, and it certainly doesn't reach the inside walls of the headquarters of the Breeguards, until the door swings open.
A woman enters, and very deliberately makes her way to the first cell, motioning for the guard on duty to open it and let her in. She has all the signs of one who has been awake all night, though not from an signs of tiredness. She simply looks a little flat, as one who has just reached their usual bedtime.
"Good morning, Mr. Rushlight," and the door closes behind her, and again, does not lock.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The man on the bunk stirs and rolls over. His expression falls to the other end of the spectrum from his current guests -- one that was just awoke. He blinks slowly and starts to voice a question, but stops when his eyes finally alert him to who has entered his cell. He slides his legs over the edge of the bed and in the process catches his left leg on a nail. He winces slightly but brings himself to a vertial position nevertheless. "Good morning" he manages, his voice still groggy.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
Scarlet Greythorn leans herself against the door and regards the man carefully for a moment. Then she speaks again, "I have a request for you. It's nothing dangerous, just something you must do for me... it could be a sort of.. test, to see how well you go." She studies her hands for a moment, then glances up as if remembering she was in the middle of a conversation.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Sleep gives it's last fleeting yawn as Pierce becomes fully focused on Scarlet. His left hand slides down his leg towards the scratch and rubs it. "Ah, okay." His words are slightly weighted, a cross between nervousness and distrust, but neither is intentional. "And what might that be?"

[Scarlet(#30305)]
There is that frown again, but she shrugs it off lightly. "Well, it's quite simple. Basically when you speak to Daniel today, you shall tell him that there was a misunderstanding between you, and Aleswyn. You shall make certain to tell him that Aleswyn did not provoke you at all, and that your temper got the better of you. You said yourself that you have quite a temper. As I see it, this is what happened, anyway, and it shall help your case to tell it as though it was a misunderstanding.... Am I clear?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce muses on the request. His face goes through a few strained expressions, but settles on one that is more resigned. He begins to object, but quickly ceases and nods. "I think so." The words are gruff, but not malicious. He turns his head away from Scarlet and places folded hands up to his face. "But, " the quert is long in coming, "he must be a smart man, how'll I convince him of that. An' after he spent so much time talking with ... her ...?" His eyes turn back to Scarlet, a genuine fear has set in. "What if he doesn't believe me?"

[Scarlet(#30305)]
"As long as you stay with this story, then he shall believe it. Do not concern yourself on that, if he appears not to believe you, do not worry. As long as you have said these things that I have told you to say, that is enough." She smiles, and looks as though she is attempting to appear kindly, "Don't worry. If he does not believe you, that shan't change our deal."

[Pierce(#32225)]
Though clearly unhappy with the current request, Pierce makes every effort to appear otherwise, with limited success. He nods, "I can tell him that, I think." He takes a deep breath before proceeding. "Despite what ya may hear otherwise, I really am an honest man. I'm just afraid that It won't work." His brow is wrinkled with worry.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
"Oh, dear Mr. Rushlight, I've heard nothing otherwise. Why, I've heard very little at all, to be honest myself. I have my own opinions of you, based solely on the man that I see before me. I would consider myself a good judge of character, after all, I must be, musn't I? But that is beside the point. You may of course use your own words to tell him, as long as the point is the same. And please, try to look less dejected about it- there are worse things I could ask of you, and worse stories you could tell."
She taps lightly on the door behind her, and a few moment later, the Breeguard can be heard moving along the hallway. "That is all for today. I shall be seeing you later, to check that everything is well, and soon you shall be released from here and back walking the streets. Until then, Mr. Rushlight."

[Pierce(#32225)]
A feeble smile crosses his libs and he nods. "Yes, Ms. Greythorn. ... And thank you." The last three words come out almost as an afterthought. He sits there awkwardly as he waits for the guard to come to the door. "You are most kind to help me this way."

[Scarlet(#30305)]
"Of course. What are friends for, hmm?" Friends of course, who will soon have the power to land said friend back in jail if he happens to step out of line, or at least, use that as a blackmail advantage. Yes, the benifits of having friends, and thre is no better friend than Scarlet Greythorn. "Goodbye," And with that, she steps out, and the door swings closed again, and is locked. The woman can be heard leaving shortly after, and again the warm breeze drifts through the Headquarters

[Pierce(#32225)]
The door lock rattles through the small cell, and Pierce is again left alone to contemplate all that has happened. He pulls his legs up and stretches out again on the flat bed, staring at the ceiling. A hand moves up to his neck and rubs the now raw scab where a scar had one resided. He mutters quietly to himself, with only the words "lie" and "anger" being understandable from those outside the cell, had there been anyone there. He sighs, stops mumbling, rolls over on his side so that he faces the wall. A soft cry slows disolves into regular breathing which slowly fades into a quiet snore.

Meeting with Scarlet

2005-10-25T22:07:00.000-04:00

======================== Bree Time ========================
Real time: Tue Oct 25 19:04:33 2005
Bree time: Mid Afternoon <4:13> on Monday of Summer - June 27,1436
Moon Phase: Full Moon
========================================================
Breelands Weather: The mid afternoon summer air is very hot and dry around you. The day sky is clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead.

A small gloomy cell in the Bree Guard's station

[Scarlet(#30305)]
The door to the Breeguard headquarters swings open in a rather violent, melodramatic way. Of course, only Scarlet Greythorn could be standing on the other side, unimpressed scowl on her face as she steps forward. Behind her- outside, the road shimmers in the heat. A constable whispers a few words quickly and quietly, and she sets to moving toward the Chief's office. Something stays her a moment- her eyes fall on the cell containing Pierce. One eyebrow raises slightly- the look of anger quickly vanishes, and dissolves into something of cruel intrest.
"Well, well.... Mr. Rushlight, is it? I must say, I didn't expect to find you in here..." Something suggests that the words 'so soon', have been dropped from this sentence. She looks in thoughtfully, that smirk still remaining. "Interesting, indeed..."

[Pierce(#32225)]
Inside the confining cell, the blacksmith has not moved from the position he had originally taken when the door was first secured. The floor directly below his hand held head is stained with his tears. He raises his head and looks out through the little window. He squints his swollen and bloodshot eyes, trying to get a better view of the person who just addressed him. His words are prefixed with a muted sigh as he asks, "Who're you?"

[Scarlet(#30305)]
Ah, pain and suffering. How she so enjoyed to watch. An expression of contrived sympathy settles nearly upon her features, and she leans upon the bars. "Now, now, friend. No need to sigh as such. I'm no friend of theirs let me assure you." And she moves to find a chair, and bring it over. "However, I have spoken with the Chief, and this is a very grave situation you have found yourself in. Aleswyn is a dear... friend of mine. You might say she's family, and you know that Breefolk don't look kindly on this sort of behaviour. But before I get into all that, I suppose I should tell you that I am Scarlet Greythorn. Whether that means anything to you or not shall determine where I take this conversation from here."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The back of Pierce's hand slides across his face, removing the last vestiges of tears, at least for the moment. He blinks a few times. The sympathetic gesture and gentle words make a profound impact, and Pierce turns to look fully out the little window. "Scarlet..." the word falls off his tongue, as he visibly searches his memory for some recollection. "No miss, I don't know ya, nor can I recall hearing your name before." He shifts slightly turning himself to more easily see the door.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
At these words, she almost appears disappointed, though this is quickly replaced by that fake sympathy again. Niceness isn't something that comes easily when talking to strangers. "Ah, very well then." She thinks for a moment, then continues, "As I said, the actions taken after such behaviours are rather.. harsh, and in my opinion, somewhat unnessecary. You may or may not be aware that such behaviours can result in banishment from the Breelands... life in a cell, not unlike this, or death, depending on the resulting injuries to Ms. Aleswyn..." She leaves this to sink in for a moment or two.

[Pierce(#32225)]
A frown is forthcoming as Scarlet gives her assessment of the prisoner's current state. He pauses and looks out the little window at Scarlet, his dark eyes still slightly foggy. His first response is almost a grunt, but realizing a translation is necessary, he speaks softly, "What I get is what I deserve." He says flatly. "Though it ain't for tryin'." His left had, slightly raw from the earlier events idly rubs the discoloured skin on his neck.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
The door to the Chief's office opens, and though not much of the conversation could be heard, anyone standing near the door would've heard the final words: ". . . allowed myself to love again." Tears flow heavily from the woman's eyes, and they are not the tears one sheds when faced with a jail sentence. They are the inconsolable tears one sheds only when facing the death of love.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
"Now, now. Not at all. As I said, I believe these penalties to be far too extreme. Certainly you have your reasons, and that doesn't concern me at the present time. However, I may have an idea that could help you, and would certainly be more pleasant than any of the options I meantioned earlier. And, I ask you to trust me, there are only a privledged few who would be offered an opportunity like this... it is hard to explain if you do not know of me..."
"I..." Something catches her attention. Scarlet frowns and turns her head. A curse is caught under her breath. She turns about in her seat, and coughs quietly. "Aleswyn... what is the matter?" The question is awkward. The woman's whole body language speaks of awkwardness. This obviously isn't a position she's used to being in.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce looks at the window quizzically, especially when the woman suddenly turns away. He does not, however, make an attempt to see what is of such interest as to capture her attention.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
Through the tears which stream down her face, Aleswyn is unable to see much of anything. She does, however, hear the voice calling to her and moves towards it. The fact that Scarlet sits talking to Pierce doesn't seem to register at this time. She cares only about being consoled. In fact, she doesn't even stop to think about the awkward state of their relationship as she reaches to embrace Scarlet, crying out, "First your father, Leighwyn, and now Daniel!"

[Scarlet(#30305)]
"Excuse me just a moment, sit and have a think there about freedom, and about friendships, etcetera." Scarlet says this hurridely to Pierce as she stands, bewildered by the show of emotion from the woman. She is embraced, though hardly returns it- patting Aleswyn on the back in a 'there, there' motion... Something doesn't quite connect properly in her head. "He's dead? Perhaps this isn't the best place to be talking about things right now...."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The small window affords Pierce very little visiblity, but the odd exchange outside was indeed enough to stir him from his lethargy. He rises to his feet and moves towards the little window to look out. He sees Aleswyn and immediately turns away from the window, pressing his back against the wall. His face flushes and all his scars turn deep red. He says something, but from the exterior of the cell, it comes across merely as a jumble of deep, unhappy, sounds.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
"Nay!" she protests, her voice rough and raspy. "He isn't dead! But he might as well be. Or I might as well be. Aye, I might as well be," she muses almost to herself. Still, she doesn't notice Pierce, for surely if she had she would've wondered why Leighwyn was speaking to him. Darting a glance at the Chief's door then back to her daughter, Aleswyn says, "Nay. He's still in there. And I," she sighs deeply, exhales just as deeply, then says, "I am out here." With a wave of her hand, she motions to the cell. Still, for some reason, not quite realizing that Pierce is the one on the other side. "Return to your friend, Leighwyn. I . . . will be returning home."

[Scarlet(#30305)]
The eyes glance quickly to the cell, then back again. Confusion is scrawled all across those features even as she listens. "Well I shall find you later, and we shall talk then. I don't entirely understand any of this so you should have to explain it to me... Perhaps we should go to the bonfire tonight." It's a hopeful suggestion, after all, the words spoken by the other woman were quite confusing and she's grasping at straws. Scarlet moves as though to return to her conversation with Pierce inside the cell.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The man in the cell puckers his face: his brows tighten and his lips purse, a sure sign of deep concentration. He slowly shakes his head, the odd conversation that occurs outside his cell doesn't register a visual connection in the pensive face. He looks out the window again when he hears the promise of Aleswyn's departure. He snorts, though the sound is muffled by the door. He says nothing.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
"Aye, the . . . the bonfire," is all that Aleswyn manages to toss out before turning to run out of the constabulary, tears streaming down her face.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
With a frown Scarlet watches the other woman leaves, then knocks on the cell door to get the man inside's attention. "Where was I? Ah yes. Well, I am certain that, if it were your wish to avoid banishment, or death, or other such punishments that are being suggested at this present time, then there would be some arrangement we could come to. I am always seeking new friends, and my friends are looked upon in the highest regard, as long as they respect me..." And of course, by friends, she is speaking of her band of cronies. "And, if you would be interested in joining my circle of friends... as a sort of.. employment, then I am certain this whole messy business could be sorted out. Of course there would be terms, and conditions, but nothing extreme or that you wouldn't agree with..."

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce listens thoughtfully, or at least as thoughtfully as a man can who has experienced the days events. He says nothing for a long while, but instead walks over to the other end of the cell, away from the door and rests his head against his arm on the heavy walls. His shoulders slump and he shakes his head. "I don't know what I'm hearin', but it don't sound good to me." He says at last. He tips his head, half pointing towards the window, his only reference point in the room, as he ponders aloud: "She an' the Constable, an' you an' your dead dad, and ..." He stops talking for a moment, his eyes slowly bouncing back and forth; and then the revelation: "You're related." He turns and looks fully at Scarlet, the confusion is ammended with fear and anger. "This don't make sense." The words come with an edge.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
One eyebrow raises, and there appears that cruel smirk again. "It sounds better than banishment to me, friend." These words are quietly spoken, as if only a simple suggestion. "And whomever my father happens to be, has no relevence to this discussion. I'd thank you to leave my personals out of this. And we certainly aren't related. I barely know the woman aside from she was hysteric right now, and you tried to strangle her this morning, and people outside are calling for your blood. Let us stick to the issue at hand, here. As I said, I am offering you an easy ticket out of here... friendship, employment and respect."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The full weight of the words come to bear on Pierce and he sits back down on the bench, his head coming to rest again in his hands. His voice, normally deep and rich, is edges with a slight tremor. His words are soft and low, "Anna, forgive me." He rises to his feet, slowly, as if a sentence had already been passed against him. "What choice do I have?" He says, resigned. "Ms. Greythorn, or whoever you are, please: I'm an honest man. My temper gets the best of me, but . . ." His earnest plea fails him, and the thought goes silent. "What must I do?" is his final reply.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
The head tilts. Anna, he says? This little piece is quickly stored in the memory banks. She motions over a Breeguard, and, with a nod toward the lock, the door opens, and Scarlet slips in. It is closed behind her, though left unlocked. Scarlet Greythorn sits herself down, crosses one leg over the other, and looks toward the man with cold, arrogant, fearless eyes.
"There, now. Of course you have a choice. Why, if there were no choice, what sort of society would we be living in?" She stretches her hands in front of her, then cracks her knuckles. "Now, there are quite a few allegations against you these days, which I'm not complaining about, nor am I prying into. It's not really my place to pry. I should as well leave that to the Breeguards.. "It's quite simple, really, though I shall make no guarentees that I should be able to free you from here, and it shall certainly cost me an amount to do so, so you must realise the responsibility you are undertaking... But as I said, it is quite simple. I have a circle of friends," (Between the lines: cronies), "And I would like you to be a part of them. This means that if I wish for you to help me with a task, or with a job of some description, you do so. Otherwise, you continue about your usual job, but unless I say so, you are not to do anything that would cause inquiries by Breeguards, do you understand? That is to say, you control your temper unless I tell you otherwise, you do not steal, nor stab, nor strangle anyone, or anything, unless I have granted you permission... Quesions?"

[Pierce(#32225)]
Objections that would have otherwise been raised are quelled but the situation. He shakes his head, "No. No questions." His eyes look to the floor, and not to his new benifactor. "I understand." He sighs again and turns fully away from Scarlet.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
She raises an eyebrow again, then leans against the wall. "Well, Mr. Rushlight. I wouldn't be so downheartened if I were you. You are more than welcome to stay here, or whatever it is they decide for you. Honestly now, I would not think that friendship is such a heavy matter. If it is so much of a task for you, I should go and find someone more appreciative of my services." And this said, she stands as if about to make to leave.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce's downcast eyes rise suddenly. "Oh, no. I'm sorry, Ms. Greythorn. It's. . . I. . ." He fumbles his words which he quickly tries to collect. "Thank you. I do not mean to seem cold or callous. It's just . . ." fumble again. "Today has not been a good day. I thank you for what you're doin' for me." He makes a feeble attempt to be polite, something that has been sorely lacking in his demeanor for a long time. He looks at Scarlet hopefully.

[Scarlet(#30305)]
Scarlet frowns, then seems to consider. "Very well. I just hope that next time we meet you should be more appreciative of these efforts I am making for you. It shall be no easy task." She opens the door. "I shall return some time this week. Until then, enjoy the hospitality of the Breeguards.. If you have any concerns, do ask one of them to fetch me. Goodbye, Mr. Rushlight." And with that, she steps out, closing the door behind her. A moment later, and a click signals that it has bee locked again.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The man stands along, again, in the cell. The click of the lock rings in his ears, and the tears start to flow again. "Anna, forgive me. . . "

Blackmail! part 4

2005-10-25T18:15:00.000-04:00

[Daniel(#7705)]
The Chief directs the shorter of the two constables with him, pointing at Aleswyn. "Gappy" nods, and rushes over to her, hunching over to look at her, "You alright Miz?" Then he sees the knife, and he backs up a step. "Drop the dagger, Miz."
At the same time, the other constable is directed toward Pierce. This constable, a bit taller, though by no means a large man, approaches Pierce with his sword held with point to the ground. "Mr. Rushlight. You'll come with me back to the headquarters. Agreed?"
Chief Thistlewool watches the second constable approach Pierce, then hears the word "dagger," at which point his head pivots back toward Aleswyn. For a moment, he thinks he is reliving history. His eyes widen at the sight of the blade.

[Alesywn(#21413)]
Still a bit dazed, Alesywn doesn't quite understand Gappy's order to drop the dagger. She blinks a few times, staring up, and though she doesn't hold the dagger quite as tightly as she had before, it is still in her hand. When she opens her mouth to answer Gappy, nothing comes out. Wincing, she swallows hard and tries once again. This time the words are uttered, but her voice is rough and hoarse. Quite the way one might expect of someone who'd just been strangled. "I . . . think? I am . . . alright." The dagger falls out of her grip as she takes that hand to rub her bruised throat.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Silence. The Blacksmith does not respond directly to the constable's query, but instead turns his head slightly, giving him a half a view of the prostrate woman. He frowns slightly as he hears her reply but otherwise no discernable recognition is registered. Pierce's eyes, fixed with a far-away stare are framed within a worried visage that slowly turns towards the constable. His voice is devoid of the power and emotion he carried but moments before. He parrots incomprehensibly the words back to the shorter man, including, and more understandly the "Agreed."

[Daniel(#7705)]
The constable with Pierce nods in response, "Good. Come along then." He sheathes his sword, and holds his hands on his belt, waiting for Pierce to step with him in the direction of the headquarters. At the same time, "Gappy" sees the blade fall, and the woman's choking, and lowers to a knee beside her. He seems still to be looking for signs of serious injury. "You . . . you breathin' now? You need a healer?"
The chief's eyes turn to Pierce as he agrees to the demand, and his eyes relax slightly, before turning back to Aleswyn. He watches passively for a long moment, then speaks. "Help Ms. . . . Aleswyn to the headquarters once she can walk." He has apparently formed a conclusion already as to whether she is seriously hurt. With that, the Chief turns, and starts off in the direction of the headquarters himself, walking ahead of the other two constables. He does not wait to see whether Aleswyn will follow voluntarily.

[Alesywn(#21413)]
A small crowd had gathered to watch the ruckus, as today's scene was quite out of the ordinary for Bree. And of course, the small crowd had gathered even more spectators, so that by the time Alesywn has managed to sit upright with Gappy's assistance, whispered murmurings are being bruited about. Finally, and again with Gappy's assistance, Alesywn stands to shaky feet. Her dagger remains on the ground where it had fallen from her grip, though she doesn't appear to have noticed it. With a raspy voice, Alesywn nods to Gappy and says only, "I . . . can . . . walk." Though as shaky as she appears, that could be doubtable.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The blacksmith stands there dumbly, unmoved.

[Daniel(#7705)]
The constable comes to a stop as he sees the smith not moving. A deepening frown. "Mr. Rushlight. Come along now. You know you'll be treated fairly. Just need to ask the usualy questions, and sort out what happened here." Mr. Rushlight is now quite familiar to the breeguards. Chief Thistlewool has disappeared from view, and Gappy is now leading Aleswyn toward the headquarters, eyeing Pierce as he does so somewhat warily.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The second address seems to do the trick. Almost as if he was asleep, Pierce looks around and shakes himself slightly. With complete compliance, he falls in line behind the guard. A low rumble moves through the crowd though the common questions are "They're lettin' him walk by himself?" and "They should kill 'em now!" The man winces as a tomato hits him in the back, but he doesn't even turn to see it's source. His gaze is still glassy and his eyes are slightly red and puffy.

[Alesywn(#21413)]
Indeed she /was/ shaky, for Alesywn has managed to take no more than a couple steps before she has to stop again. She reaches out to grab hold of Gappy, whether or not he likes her hand on his arm, and takes a few breaths. Silently, she nods her head and starts to walk again, following after the Chief and Pierce.

The Bree Guard House
The Bree constabulary is simple, like the rest of town. Made up of a few rooms which are all reachable from this main hallway, the building's interior is constructed of a light, smooth wood, with paneling on the walls and wood planks on the floor. The ceiling is tall, and high enough to be out of range of people heads, torches are hanging on the walls with metal brackets, no doubt made by the town's metalsmiths. The ceiling comes to a peak, where at one end of the building there is a small hole to allow smoke to exit the building.

As one walks along the hallway, the rooms in the building are easily discernible, as each has a label on the door. Immediately inside the entrance, to the left is labeled "The Hard Work Room." Opposite this lies "Chief's Office." Just past that, on the right, and directly across, on the left, are matching jail cells, one labeled "Cell 1" and the other, "Cell 2." Both of these doors have a small rectangular hole cut into it about 5 feet from the floor, and a stepstool sits on the floor in the hallway nearby.
The door to cell number 1 is unlocked and the door to cell number 2 is unlocked.
The hallway ends in another room, the door of which reads, "Barracks." This last door is dusty, and if one were to hear it open, they'd cover their ears for the creaking.

[Daniel(#7705)]
The Chief awaits the followers. He is standing near the space leading back to the cells, facing the doors. The first to enter is of course Pierce and the constable. "Take Mr. Rushlight to Cell 1. It is only until we are ready to question him. Ms. Aleswyn will be placed in the other cell."

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce nods sullenly. The constable moves to open the door for the man, but quickly moves out of his way as he approaches. Pierce stops in the doorway. He sighs heavily and looks over his shoulder at the constable before he steps in. Unconsciously, his hand moves to his throat and starts to scratch the fat scar on his neck. He sits down on the flat bed and drops his head into his hands. Though there is no sound, shortly a few drops of water begin to fall from the man's hidden face onto the floor in front of him.

[Alesywn(#21413)]
Bringing up the rear, Alesywn moves along slowly with Gappy, her hand on his arm.

[Daniel(#7705)]
The door is shut and locked on the cell, and the constable stands nearby, awaiting further orders. There is a long moment of utter silence now. Only the chief, the constable, and Pierce in the headquarters at the moment. Chief Thistlewool waits patiently for the door to open again, and when Gappy enters, followed by Aleswyn, the Chief issues his next order. "Escort Ms. Aleswyn into my office." He turns around almost instantly afterward, and walks toward his office, not offering even a brief glance or word in the directon of Pierce.

[Alesywn(#21413)]
The door to the headquarters shuts behind Gappy and Aleswyn, and almost immediately she is ordered into the Chief's office. She glances nervously in the direction of the cell where Pierce sits, waiting, and moves past it to follow the Chief into his office.

[Pierce(#32225)]
After the cell door is shut and locked, a thick quiet floods the room. The sound of heavy boots on large feet scrap briefly across the floor and then all is again still. A minute passes then the silence of the small cage is punctuated with heavy breaths which slowly turn into quiet sobs.

Terminus

Blackmail! pt 3

2005-10-24T23:30:00.000-04:00

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
A sneer follows Pierce's speech. "Aye. An accident. Interesting, though, that accidents seem to follow you," accuses Aleswyn. And, getting closer to him yet again, Aleswyn suggests, in a soft and menacing voice, meant to be heard only by the man before her. "This Anna of yours. Could it be that she was the victim of . . . " She trails off a moment, plotting her next words, ". . . an accident?" Clearly, she does not believe that such a thing could be possible.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The blacksmith freezes, even his breathing stop. A moment -- then the scars on his face and chest begin to turn a brilliant red. He glares at the elder woman before him and changes his stance. A step forward puts him almost chest to head with his accusor. "Your ire" his voice is a low gutteral growl, served most often by a wounded predator, "may be slow to quench, but it will fail you" his hands tremble with rage as moves towards his belt, stopping short of his weapon. "if you mention her name that way again." His eyes blaze with fire: "And it would be no accident."

[Alesywn(#21413)]
Rather than appearing intimidated, as she assumes the man expects of her, Alesywn is amused. She begins to laugh, not quite the orotund one typically associated with a humourous situation, but one that skirts on the border of annoyance. And then, just as suddenly as the laughter started, it stops. A look, colder than the ice which covers the pond in winter, seeps into Alesywn's grey eyes. "If you wish to use that hand again, I suggest you let it fall again to your side." Continuing now, her words spaced far apart so as to leave no doubt as to her meaning. "DO . . . NOT . . . EVER . . . AGAIN . . . THREATEN . . . ME!"

[Pierce(#32225)]
Her response was obviously not expected as is easily read in his eyes, but the man does not move. He does however let the hand contine its course -- down to his side, weapon unweilded. His voice does not change it's tenor: "You can say anything you want about me. It won't be nothing that hasn't been said already, behind my back or otherwise. But don't ever say anything about" and here his voice cracks - an odd mix of rage and anguish - "Anna." As he breathes the word, he turns from Aleswyn, esposing only reddening ears and the sound of his halting breath.

[Alesywn(#21413)]
Alesywn watches the man's arm as it drops back to his side, harmlessly away from the weapon. Even as she nods her head with approval, she is placing her hand on her own dagger. She does not speak yet. Perhaps she is thinking about Caermin, much the way Pierce is thinking about Anna. Then again, perhaps she is thinking about something else entirely. Whatever the reason, she remains silent for only a moment before again turning loquacious. "If I wish to speak of her, I shall. You are not the only one who has lost a mate to death." Though the words she speaks are not necessarily cruel, the tone of voice she employs is certainly. "And I cannot help but wonder if perhaps your Anna was the same sort of person as was my Caermin - and by that, I mean lose with her favors. Perhaps," she muses in a cruel manner, "your beloved tried laying claim to another woman's man, and the other woman took care of her, quite the same way I would have taken care of Tara had I been given the opportunity."

[Pierce(#32225)]
With his own back to Aleswyn, Pierce does not see the woman's action. He does however hear the words --- all too clearly. His shoulders start to shudder. "Oh Anna," the words are pained like a soul broken and in torment. He attempts to hold his breath, a futile effort to fully regain his composure.

[Alesywn(#21413)]
Hand still on her dagger, Alesywn regards the man curiously. Maybe she realizes she has pushed him too far. Then again, she doesn't appear to be running away in fear, so maybe that hasn't crossed her mind. She merely stands there, under the tree, watching to see what comes next.

[Pierce(#32225)]
A final sigh and the shoulders straighten. He whips around with the speed of a striking snake grabs Aleswyn by the neck and pushes her up against the tree, raising her feet a few inches off the ground. His face is full of rage. "Loose favours?" His words carry venom: "She wasn't loose!" He whispers the words "She was faithful." All this time, the other hand is not idle, but instead also goes towards the woman's face, though this not for support but as attack. He sends his hand through the air at her face.

You blindly attack Alesywn with your Bare Hands...
[Combat(#13388)->Pierce]
Your attack against Alesywn mildly wounds her!

[Alesywn(#21413)]
Apparently Alesywn had been anticipating the attack, for nearly as soon as the man pushes her against the tree, she has loosened and wielded her dagger. Though her throat is gripped tightly, and her feet dangle a few inches above ground, Alesywn does not stand down from her position. "Aye. She was though. Why, you could ask almost anyone in town. Don't you know, it is always the beloved who is the last to know?" From the position she is now in, though she has wielded her dagger, she is unable to do anything with it.

ARB: Alesywn has "passed" on her turn to attack.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The fire in Pierce's eyes flames more brightly, his normally dark eyes are entirely consumed with it: "Last to know? Last to know?" Pierce's voice takes an almost hysterical tone. "Yes, I was. Last to know she was murdered. But" his voice goes strangely quiet, "He shouldn'ta never have told me. No no." He shakes his head and serendipituously notices Aleswyn's dagger. "Oh?" He slams her hand against the tree, attempting to dislodge the weapon.

[Combat(#13388)->Pierce]
You forego your chance to attack.

[Alesywn(#21413)]
The funny thing about rage, is that often the results are not what one would've intended. When her hand is slammed against the tree, it only serves to place the weapon more firmly in her grip. Unfortunately, she is unable to do anything with that dagger, in the position she is currently. She struggles in an attempt to free herself, or at the very least her neck, from the man's grip.

[Pierce(#32225)]
While the rage may be unsuccessful at dislodging the weapon, it has not left him ill-equipped. He spits his words: "I tol' you not to use her name again!" And with that, the blacksmith changes his grip and hurls the woman to the ground. He turns away from her, for the first time since the taunting began, he notices that small pockets of people have gathered, or are cowering, near the edges of some of the houses. He growls and starts to move away from the woman. Incomprehensible words emit from under his breath as his fists alternate clenching.

You blindly attack Alesywn with your Bare Hands...
[Combat(#13388)->Pierce]
Your attack against Alesywn mildly wounds her!

[Daniel(#7705)]
The Chief comes running at full pace, accompanied by two constables. All of three of them bearing short swords at their hip; and all of three of them varying in stature. The slender chief, then short and full-bellied Gappy Mossleaf, and then Tad Thistlewool; the Chief's cousin. As the three come within view of the reported disturbance, the chief's eyes go wide at the sight of the woman being choked against the tree, and then thrown to the ground. The eyes widen more, perhaps with recognition, as he sees who it is that is on the ground. Daniels shouts loudly as he continues to rush forward, the two constables accompanying him closely, and drawing their swords. "You there! Step back!" The Chief's finger extends to point at Pierce, and then, a "Rushlight!" is shouted as well.

[Alesywn(#21413)]
Lying there on the ground, after having been thrown up against the tree and then tossed away to the ground, like yesterday's garbage, Alesywn appears heavily dazed, gasping for breath. Already bruises can be seen forming around her neck from where she was gripped tightly. The dagger, ironically, is still gripped firmly in her hand, even as she lies helplessly on the ground.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The new commotion brought on by the arrival of the constables catches Pierce's attention, but any hope of escape is quickly dashed as his name rings clear like a clarion. The call of "Rushlight" also produces an almost immediate sobering effect, and as quickly as the rage arrived, it dissapates. He stops moving, as directed, at most halfway between the tree and the closest house. He does not turn, but stares sightless towards the building, incapable or unwilling to turn and see the injured woman behind him.

--- At the last pose, I lost connection. So it may not have been seen. ---

Pierce Blackmail Pt. 2

2005-10-24T00:53:00.000-04:00

[Aleswyn(#21413)]

Though many people who have known her for years would say that Aleswyn is soft-spoken, that is not a quality she exudes this day; in fact, were one to search of a word, they would likely find orotund to be fitting as she speaks with great strength and clarity to the man upon whom she gazes with a look of pity. "An accident, I think not. You sent the knife through my boot, just as you set fire to the house and blamed another." She shakes her head from side to side and lets out a sigh, as if something has disappointed her. "Indeed, it seems as if you find truth-telling to be difficult. But!" she continues on, without giving the man on the ground a chance to defend himself. "But as it would be, I take pity on fools who know no better, and so shall I take pity on you."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The man on the ground looks up at the woman flummoxed by the accusation. "But. . I . . There . . " The words tumble fruitlessly to the ground as Pierce entirely misses her last barb. His eyes blink rapidly, his brow furrows and he shakes his head. A pause: "I wasn't blamin' noone." He pulls himself up on his elbows and scoots himself a few feet again away from his accusor. "What're you talkin' about?"

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
"Strange, is it not, that so many things happen when you are around, but amazingly you are never to blame. I suppose you will claim innocence in what happened to that sweet lad at my party a short time back?" She makes no move at this time to draw closer to the younger man, content is she to stand under the full protection of the tree. "But as I said, I do take pity on fools, and you seem like a fool who could be of use. At least, when you refrain from idiocy."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The words, or sounds rather, uttered by the man would not be found in any lexicon found in Bree or the surrounding regions, but instead it would be characterized more as a cry, grunt and a groan all at the same time. "Fool" causes Pierce to fly to his feet. "I ain't a fool, and I ain't never said that I didn't hit 'em. Just that I didn't mean ta do it. It was an. . ." The last word faulters and bites his lip. "I don't need yer, pity." He says, though it sounds almost like the wind has been knocked out of him.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
A peal of humour-less laughter rings out at Pierce's last words as Aleswyn regards him. "You would do well to not anger me, lad. It takes a fair bit of work to raise my ire, but once it has been done, it is not easily undone." She rubs her chin thoughtfully and peers off to the right as she apparently takes a moment to think. Having found the answer to her thought, she continues, looking at Pierce once again, "I had thought to give you a reference or two, of people who unwisely angered me." Now she shrugs, and continues, "But I believe they have all succ . . . " She clears her throat quickly, then re-states, "That is, I have never had more than one cross word with any of them."

[Pierce(#32225)]
"I wasn't tryin' to anger you. It's just . . ." Pierce's face contorts with confusion and anger: "I don't understand. It was an accident!" The word fairly rings and catches the gaze of a far-off passerby, but only for a fleeting moment. The blacksmith swallows hard and trembles slightly, "I mean, it was!" he says less forcefully, a twinge of doubt at his own innocence creaps in. "I didn't ever mean to hurt anybody, but Anna--" His words fail completely as his voice breaks. His eyes drop to the ground and his shoulders give a few brief heaves.

To be continued ... Again

Blackmail! (as Pierce) - incomplete

2005-10-21T17:15:00.000-04:00

========================== Bree Time ==========================
Real time: Thu Oct 20 21:03:56 2005
Bree time: Nighttime <10:11> on Sunday of Summer - June 12,1436
Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent Moon
===============================================================
Breelands Weather: (note this was not used for this RP, It is daytime)

The nighttime summer air is very hot and dry around you. The night sky is cloud-filled and gloomy. The moon is above the horizon and in its waxing crescent phase.
Logging stopped.

Stone Houses
At the base of the Bree Hill, about a hundred comfortable-looking stone houses line the small and winding road that clings to the lower reaches of the hill. Red brick chimneys are built alongside each neatly-placed house and several of these chimneys spew forth smoke. A handful of skinny trees grow between some of the houses, and there in the centre of the street stands a green water pump. In place of one of the houses is a conspicuous gap, dismal-looking gravel that is still blackened in places, though weeds have started to reclaim the desolate space.

Light filters out of several of the windows of the houses that line the street. The light casts enough illumination among the night time shadows to allow folks to walk.

The night sky is cloud-filled and gloomy. The nighttime summer air is very hot and dry around you. The moon is above the horizon and in its waxing crescent phase.

Aleswyn (#21413)
Pierce (#32225)

[Pierce(#32225)]
The hot midday sun beats down oppresively for an early June day in Bree. As the noon hour finishes those that had wandered to their homes for their meals start travelling back to their tasks. In the square of some of the stone houses, a lone tree provides some shade to those not disposed to head back to work. Sitting with his eyes mostly closed and head tipped to one side is Pierce. His breathing is heavy, but not restful.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
Though the day /is/ especially hot and oppressive, one person does not seem to be too bothered by it. Or if she is, surely she does not allow it to show. Aleswyn comes along from the centre of Bree, approaching the stone houses where many of Bree's citizens live. Not too far from the rubble-filled spot where once a house existed, she stands, looking. With a slight shake of her head, Aleswyn turns back around and heads to the tree under which Pierce rests. She clears her throat once, then twice, its sound a tocsin for the man she nudges, almost gently, with her booted left foot.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The boot, not the sound, rouse the slumbering man. He shakes himself and looks up, squinting in the bright sunlight. One hand goes to the point of impact and the other leans towards his dagger. "What now? Why're ya kickin' me like that?" He says groggily, but with a defensive, angered edge.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
With an embarassed smile, Aleswyn looks down at Pierce and offers him an apology which almost has a genuine ring about it, "Ohdear, my apologies, Mr.Rushlight. I must have not seen you there." The corners of her lips twist in mockery as she points out, "I see you have returned to the scene of the crime."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The hand rubs his ribs idly as Pierce tries to get his bearings. "Then you'd best be watchin' where you're goin'." He manages after a confused moment. But it is her second statement which finally brings more clarity to his mind. He rises to his feet as he asks warily, "And what scene of what crime are you talking about?"

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
Moving so that she is sheltered a bit under the tree, Aleswyn continues to look down on Pierce, as a hand motions the empty field where once stood a house. "The scene of the crime where you burned a house, though someone else took the blame. In fact, you should consider yourself a lucky man, for had I told Daniel," she pauses a moment after saying the name, and an involuntary sigh escapes before she can catch it. "Had I told Chief Thistlewool," she corrects herself, "the truth of what happened the night outside the Prancing Pony, I daresay you would not be slumbering so peacefully today."

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce frowns as he looks at the rubble. "I didn't set the fire. I wasn't even around when it happened." He folds his arms across his chest and looks back at Aleswyn, "The truth, " his eyes turn pitch black, "is like you said - you dropped it on your foot. You know it an' I know it." His eyes snatch another quick look where the building had been standing.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
"The truth," Aleswyn says slowly, allowing both words to be spoken softly. Separately. Her grin widens, and to anyone who has met her more than once, they might notice that her normal, genuine smile is not present. It is replaced, instead, by this almost-smirk. She begins again, repeating her first two words, "The truth. An interesting concept, is it not? And what . . ." she pauses and appears reflective, as if considering her choice of words, and in fact she changes what she'd started to say, "I find it interesting how two people could have experienced the same situation, and had different impressions."

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce's frown becomes more distressed, and he swallows uncomfortably. "Ms. . . ." he bites his lip, "Faerhan, If I've got your name right, I don't know what you're talking about." It was an accident. He looks around quickly, seeing no one is close by, he begins to take a slow step backwards, away from the woman. "You said so yourself."

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
"Aye. An accident. Though, one side always sees things differently than the other side, does it not?" Aleswyn asks of the blacksmith, moving towards him even as he backs away from her. She is now fully protected by the shade of the tree. "And an accident, when nobody is about to act as witness . . . "she allows her words to trail off as she watches him.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Another step back, and a tree root catches Pierce's heal. He falls over backwards and ends up looking up at the approaching woman. He shakes his head, his eyes blink rapidly, "But it was an accident?" He says nervously. His words tremble. He makes no move to rise.

Continued in Blackmail! Part 2

Luthais and Pierce in the Prancing Pony

2005-10-21T17:02:00.000-04:00

========================== Bree Time ==========================
Real time: Tue Oct 18 20:31:10 2005
Bree time: Early Night <9:33> on Monday of Summer - June 6,1436
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent Moon
===============================================================
Breelands Weather:
The early night summer air is very hot and dry around you. The dark sky is overcast and dreary. The moon is above the horizon and in its waning crescent phase.

[Pierce(#32225)]
[Luthais(#27587)]

Outside, by the sign of the Prancing Pony:

[Pierce(#32225)]
The setting of the summer sun paints the edges of the night sky with thin whisps of crimson. Despite the deepening shadows and the promise of night, the evening offers no respite from the heat. The windows of the Prancing Pony are wide open with the hopes of catching any hint of an evening breeze. The light pours out and spots the ground outside with golden patches. Through one of these patches, a tall figure passes, momentarily lighting his grey cloak with a yellowed hugh. Pierce Rushlight stops outside the archway to the Pony and looks back and forth along the way, as it looking for someone.

[Luthais(#27587)]
Garbed in clothes as dark as the evening promises to be, Luthais Graywelle would be a dark figure even without his austere attire. Even in the shadows, a healthy sheen of summer sweat coats this man's face, most likely due to the fact that he has yet to loosen even a single shirt button. His walk is stiff and rigid, and his fingers seem to twitch uncomfortably at his sides as he walks, his gaze carefully taking in all things, while seemingly not interested in a single one. As that piercing gaze falls on the burly figure of Pierce Rushlight, himself alight from the light provided by the inn, Luthais seems to take interest and speeds up his walk in his direction, a slight smile painted onto his visage.

[Pierce(#32225)]
A large cheer rolls out of the common room through it's windows and catches Pierce's attention momentarily. He looks towards the window allowing a brief scowl to cross his face. The blacksmith turns away from the window and takes up his vigilant sentry at the street. He notes the figure moving towards him, but makes no attempt to greet him. Instead Pierce's eyes continue to rove the area.

[Luthais(#27587)]
Luthais himself stops short for a moment to scan the area at the outburst of sound from the Inn, and scowls darkly for a moment, most likely for having to stop at all. His greedy eyes reacquire their target, and an even more wolfish grin seeps onto his face as he closes the gap between he Pierce.

Stepping up to the larger man, Luthais has to crane his neck slightly to look Pierce in the eye. "So, you're the one people whisper about, are ye?" The grin that paints his slimy visage only widens, now lighting up his eyes with its sinister mirth. A spindly hand emerges from within a well-hemmed sleeve, and Luthais' voice is its typical nasally tenor as he greets the man. "Luthais Graywelle, of Combe. I must say, this is the first time I've spoken to an accused murderer face to face. A pleasure, indeed."

[Pierce(#32225)]
The final approach of the thin figure catches the blacksmith's attention, and his eyes cease their roaming. The greeting settles sourly on Pierce and while he extends his rough hand to the smaller man, his eyes narrow slightly and his jaw tenses. He pauses long enough to swallow before he answers, his words metered slowly and cautiously: "Whisper yes, but I ain't a murderer. It was an accident, an' I didn't kill 'im. If it weren't I wouldn't be standin' here." He allows his eyes to briefly look over top of the man and scan the area before quickly returning to the inquisitor. "An' it ain't no pleasure when it's you their whisperin' about." He shakes his head, sincerely but slowly.

[Luthais(#27587)]
"Mmm, indeed. Come, I'm sure it has been too long since someone bought you an ale, hm?" Though less pronounced, the corners of Luthais' lips twitch involuntarily into a mealy smile, and his rake-thin form seems to twitch, either with anticipation or from some kind of nervous disease. He wipes at the profuse sweat that slicks his brow with the back of his hand, and carefully flicks the moisture onto the road, careful not to damage his finery.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce shakes his head, clearly confused by the offer. "I, uh. . ." He squints at the man, despite the darkness around them. "Well, " he folds his thick arms across his chest, straining the sleeves of the blue shirt he's wearing. "I guess so" is his final reply.

[Luthais(#27587)]
"Ah, good. I am a bit parched myself, and peckish from walking today. Come, come, let us find a table, hm?" Without waiting for Pierce to follow, Luthais makes a hasty line toward the Inn's front door. As the creaks of the hinges make ghastly shrieks in the stuffy air, the light from the entryway floods like a golden rectangle on the dusty ground. He leaves the door ajar, waiting for the man to follow him into the Inn.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Still unsure of what exactly is happening, Pierce lags behind the man by a few paces. He reaches the door and hesitates as he sees the activity in the inn. A snarl curls at the edges of his lips and he steps in, pulling the door closed behind him. He pauses briefly, letting his eyes adjust before he plunges into the common room, only to be assaulted by the boisterous group already present.

[Luthais(#27587)]
Pushing by drunken hooligans seems a chore to Luthais, especially given the fact that he seems hell-bent not to have a single drop of ale or mead mar his expensive coat or breeches. Finally, after much evasive manuevering, he finds a "quiet" table in the corner, far away from the activity within the common room, and quickly flags down a reluctant serving girl.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The blacksmith winds his way thought the crowds of people towards the selected table. As he moves forward, some of the lesser men hush and move out of his way. Others merely stare at him warily. Pierce drops his eyes, but watches carefully as me makes his way to the corner. As soon as he passes out of arms reach, each small group of people resume their conversation. When he finally arrives at the table, all but the closest tables are back to normal. Pierce drags a chair out from the table and sits on it, his back against the wall, and his eyes scanning the room. His hands rest uneasily on the table.

[Luthais(#27587)]
The serving girl arrives at the same time as Pierce, and her wary look takes in both patrons. Luthais orders two ales in his typical overhanded way, flicking a thick copper coin in her direction which, naturally, falls on the Common Room floor. Turning his attention to his guest, Luthais smiles coldly. "Why ever do you look so nervous, hm? Something bothering you, friend?" He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, and grins like some hideous beast, his helmet of hair shining in the well-lit chamber.

One Night in Hobbiton (As Benigo)

2005-10-21T16:52:00.000-04:00

We join the story already in progress: Nightshade was driving his carriage and narrowly missed hitting Cicely who was in the middle of the road. This resulted in Nightshade being thrown from the carriage and the ponies in a tangle with the broken carriage. The little Lass is quite shaken.

Hobbiton(#8Rnto)
Late Afternoon:

Cicely (#29925)
Nightshade (#30425)
Benigo(#25240)
Deedee (#30191)
Bingo(#30494)

[Cicely(#29925)]
"Helphelphelp!" The wee one squeals. The caterpillar who once was so amazing now crawls away through the grass. "Please, sir, get up." Cicely wrings her little hands and looks about desperately. She looks back and tugs his sleeve, then gets up and turns in circles, trying to decide what to do where to go.

[Nightshade(#30425)]
Nightshade just lies there. One of the ponies tries to pull free of he traces, but that just makes the overturned carriage creak a bit where it lies in the road.

[Benigo(#25240)]
The cries of the hobbit lass are answered by a huffing sound soon followed by a stout hobbit fellow jogging down the lane towards the scene. His face flushed from the exertion, Benigo stops short as he sees the scene before him. His eyes widen and quickly turns towards Cicely, "Wha-a- Happened 'ere?" He says between gasps.

[Nightshade(#30425)]
Nightshade groans inarticulately, then slumps motionless again.

[Cicely(#29925)]
The little lass turns to Benigo, tears in her eyes and fully shaking. She gasps in an effort to breath and whimpers, "IwasWithCaterpillarOnRoadAndHeRideAndIJumpAndHeFallAndNotGetUpHELPHELP!" Her explanatino comes out in a long, barely understandable word. She comtinues looking back and forth, "I not mean to, no honest not mean to!" She continues to sueal and a tear falls from her little cheek to the ground.

[Deedee(#30191)]
A young, wide-eyed hobbit lass hurries out of the Muffin Tin's front door. Her eyes filled with concern, and her little mouth gapes open at the frightening scene before her. Too stunned for a second or two to speak or move, Deedee Pott just stares at the wreckage and the fallen hobbit before reacting to the frantic cries of Cicely near by. Dropping her basket, she hurries over to the poor lass and asks, "What in the name of the Shire happened...Cicely, are you hurt too?"

[Bingo(#30494)]
Bingo arrives just in time from the direction of Bywater to hear Cicely's explanation of what happened. Raising an eyebrow, he starts toward the wreck, casting a brief, disapproving glance at his sister as she appears too. He seems to be about to say something to her, but doesn't after all. Instead, he comes to stand near Benigo and looks at him expectantly. "What can I do?" he asks dumbly.

[Cicely(#29925)]
"No, not me, him" Cicely

[Nightshade(#30425)]
Nightshade is still just lying there in the road, right where he landed

[Cicely(#29925)]
"No, not me, him..." Cicely's words are choked and gurgly, sputtered more than said. "Carriage fall and him too!" A trembling finger points to where he lays, "Help, I not meant to." Although tears roll down her cheeks, she isn't quite crying, obviously trying to hold back. "Wake up, please!" She tugs Nightshade's sleeve again and looks about the the gathering hobbits.

[Benigo(#25240)]
Benigo pauses for only a moment, his face registering the slurred explaination but he is clearly unable to understand Cicely's words. He returns Bigno's dumbfounded look and shakes his head. "Well sumon' should go an' call a 'ealer. Ifn he's hurt, as bad as 'e looks, we'll need one double quick!" With that said, Benigo hurries over to the carriage and the thrown rider. His face pales as he sees the gentlehobbit's form lying on the ground. "Someon' hurry!" He bites his lip.

[Nightshade(#30425)]
Nightshade doesn't wake up. The bruise on his head looks mighty bad.

[Deedee(#30191)]
Deedee casts a worried glance at her older brother, Bingo as he arrives, and seems torn between running over to him and staying beside poor, frightened Cicely. "Come now, Cicely.." she says haltingly, attempting to sooth the lass, "We all know you'd never cause anything like this on purpose. It's an accident." Resting her hand gently on Cicely's arm, she tries to coax her away from Nightshade. "It's probably for the best not to move him till the healer comes." Then glancing up at the terrified ponies, she asks Benigo, "Would you like me to try and move them, sir?"

[Nightshade(#30425)]
Nightshade continues breathing. That is his only contribution to the scene he has created.

[Benigo(#25240)]
"Eh? What's that?" Benigo turns distracted to Deedee. "Oh ye' ye can ten' ta th' ponies. They look mighty spooked." He turns back to Nightshade and frowns. He gets down on his knees next to the injured hobbit and leans in close. "'E's still breathin', that's good." He reports to the others.

[Cicely(#29925)]
Cicely looks up gratefully at Deedee and her shivers seem to ease, but return at Benigo's words. She turns slowly to look at Nightshade and Benigo, eyes wider than ever. The tears have stopped from the utter shock that now contorts the lass's face. Her knees buckle and collapse beneath her. As the cloud of dust rises up around her, Cicely seems lost in her own cloud deep inside her mind. After a moment, she stirs and kneels, lowering her face to the ground by Nightshade's ear, "Please..." she whimpers pleadingly, "Please wake up, sir, please. I sorry, not meant to..."

[Bingo(#30494)]
Bingo seems a little confused at this point. He shuffles his feet a bit, starts toward Benigo, then looks over at Deedee and Cicely. After another brief pause, he peers down at the fallen hobbit and suggest, "Perhaps I could go fine a healer, then? And .. um .. if so, then ... uh ... where would I find the nearest one?"

[Deedee(#30191)]
Deedee smiles encouragingly at Cicely and then nods solemnly at Benigo. Stepping quietly over to the ponies so they can see her, she speaks softly to them in reassuring tones that are scarecely audible. Taking pains to go slowly and calmly, she untangles the lose harness straps from the wreckage and then gently takes the reigns. Clucking quietly with her toungue, she tugs on the ponies who follow her with shaky steps over to a near by hitching post. Deedee beams in Bingo's direction as if to say all's well.

[Benigo(#25240)]
"I dunno, maybe one o' them might know. I'm from out past Waymeet." Benigo answers.

[Cicely(#29925)]
Little fingers on two different hands clutch at eachother like two dragons starving for eachothers' heads, Cicely bites her lip and a bit of red appears upon it. "I not know," she stutters, "Please I sorry please i sorry not mean to no no no." At this point, the little one is lost to the rest of the world. She's ina daze, only seeing what she has caused and what isn't getting any better. "Please please please" Her voice pleads more than a puppy's begging eyes beg, if that's possible. Her eyes dart from place to place, face to face, but all she seems to see are the carriage, ponies, and Nightshade.

[Nightshade(#30425)]
Nightshade moans, starts to move, moans louder, then goes still again.

[Deedee(#30191)]
Evaluating the situation caustiously, and seeing that the ponies would be alright where they are now, Deedee walks back over to where Cicely is kneeling and drops down beside the lass, putting an arm about her shoulder. Then she nearly jumps as she notices Nightshade suddenly move. Her eyes dart from one hobbit to the other and she offers a weak, but hopeful smile up at Bingo.

[Benigo(#25240)]
Benigo leans back, startled at the sounds echoing from Nightshade. The sounds seems to have caught more than just the small group of helpful hobbits that surround Nightshade. A few moments after the sound, another hobbit comes upon the scene. His crisp white shirt and confident step follow the annoucment, "What happened here?" He sets down a thick black leather bag that is marked with the sign of the healing house.

[Cicely(#29925)]
Still staring into nowhere, the lass begins to rock back and forth. Her hands still tear idly at eachother and her once happily shining eyes still shine, but are completely blank. The red trickle grows down the child's chin from her lip.

[Benigo(#25240)]
The healer walks straight away over next to Nightshade and starts looking him over, all the while making docterly sounding noises. He turns and asks Benigo a number of questions, most of which are responded to with shrugs. The healer, nods and walks back over towards the group, ready to give his prognosis.

[Bingo(#30494)]
About to step forward more to attend to Nightshade, Bingo halts as the healer arrives. Glancing over at Deedee, he smiles, then watches whatever the healer is up to with interest. He seems rather relieved that nothing has been required of him yet. If his attire is any indication, he may have never seen an honest day's work in his life.

[Deedee(#30191)]
Deedee gives Cicely's shoulders a reassuring squeeze and she says softly, "Everything will be alright, I'm sure it will..." she pauses and looks up at Bingo with a raised eyebrow, "Don't you think so, bro?" Obviously she's attempting to get a little extra support, even if she has to tug it out of him. She doesn't glance in the healer's direction, but focuses on Cicely for the time being.

[Benigo(#25240)]
The healer turns towards the little lass and chuckles with a grandfather's patience. "Oh there, little one. Don't you worry about your friend there, he's got a nasty bump, but he's going to be fine. He'll sleep for a while, you can be a mug on that." He smiles comfortingly to Cicely. "But we can't leave him to sleep out here on the ground now can we." He rubs his hands together and looks at Bingo and Benigo for likely canidates to carry Nightshade to the healing house.

[Bingo(#30494)]
Bingo nods at Deedee and says, "Oh yes, like the healer says, he'll be just fine. Only temporary harm done, right?" He starts toward Deedee as he says this, and as the healer looks his way, he seems a bit nervous, trying to avoid eye contact.

[Cicely(#29925)]
Cicely, like a feather floating to the ground, seems to return to her senses. She turns from Deedee to the healer, to Nightshade and all around. Wiping a red streak onto the back of her hand, but off of her face, she looks up hopefully, "Just sleep? A-and wake and all gooder?"

[Deedee(#30191)]
Deedee rises to her feet and stands in front of her big brother with arms crossed infront of herself. She finally speaks in a conserned, but stern tone, "Come on, Bingo..you've got to help them. It won't kill you to help carry a fellow hobbit in need to safety...Such a thing never killed anybody." She fights a smile all the while that she is speaking, but the stern glint in her eyes remains.

[Benigo(#25240)]
The healer smiles broadly at Cicely, "Yes, yes. He's just asleep, and he'll wake up in due time. He'll have a right smart headache, but he'll be okay." His gaze returns to his two likely canidates. An eyebrow raises as he notices Bingo's hesitency. His gaze returns to Benigo, "Well, how about it? Are you up to help get your injured friend back to the healing house." Benigo looks down at Nightshade and back to the healer. "Eh, well, yes, I'm thinkin' I might be able ta lift 'em."

"Good. Be careful as you get him up. Just watch that you don't bump his head. He's not broken anything."

Benigo nods and complies. He strains slightly as he works his way under the unconscious hobbit. "Where to?" he says, his face starts turning bright red.

[Bingo(#30494)]
Looking a bit embarrassed, Bingo turns a bit and mumbles something to Benigo about helping, though it is not very understandable except for the word 'help'. He shifts on his feet a bit, glaning over at the carriage briefly, then at his sister (who receives an accusing look).

[Cicely(#29925)]
Cicely rubs her eyes, takes a deep breath and rises to her feet. "My help, please?" She queries, her hands still slightly twidling and scratching.

[Benigo(#25240)]
The healer points off towards the center of Hobbiton, "Off that way, to the healing house. Follow me, " He says as he picks up his bag and starts to move towards the center of town.

Benigo stands up straight, though he is obviously straining. He huffs some and starts to take tenative steps to follow the healer.

[Cicely(#29925)]
Cicely says, "Help I?"

[Deedee(#30191)]
Deedee glances down rather shame-facedly at Bingo's accusing look, and blushes. However, there's simply nothing for it. Starting over to Cicely once more she offers her hand to the lass, "We can follow along behind if you like?" she says with a warm smile.

[Cicely(#29925)]
Cicely gnaws on air, then manages a grin up at Deedee and nods, "Please." She takes her hand, reeady to follow. She is no longer trembling, and breathing pretty normally, although her eyes aren't quite back to the usual, "I not meant to." She whispers.

[Deedee(#30191)]
Deedee gives Cicely's hand a reassuring sqeeze and leans close to whisper back with a smile, "I know you didn't." And with that, she begins walking after the other hobbits slowly.

[Benigo(#25240)]
"Come along now!" The healer calls back over his shoulder as he sees the small caravan starting to follow behind. He leans over and offers a slight help to Benigo as the two move towards the healing house.

Another Chance Encounter

2005-10-12T21:25:00.000-04:00

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Wed Oct 12 21:23:24 2005
Bree time: Midday <12:10> on Highday of Spring - May 19,1436
Moon Phase: First Quarter Moon
===============================================================================
The scene, already in progress: [Osmbise(#15760)] An aged hobbit and an aging merchantwoman chat earnestly over her table as a variety of customers, merchants, and passers-through stream through the intersection -- the usual Bree busyness on this early overcast morning.

Bree Market - South
This section of Bree is known locally as Market South. There are shops lining both sides of the road, selling a variety of wares and services. Here, at the southern end of Bree's Market two roads meet, one from the east and one from the north. The market is rather noisy and filled with activity, as people buy, sell, trade or simply browse the goods available here. Along with the items for sale, different aromas from the foods being sold blend together to add another dimension to the market.

Osmbise
Aleswyn
Pierce
Ruine

[Osmbise(#15760)]
The halfling resumes his soap cake examination for a moment, nodding pleasantly. "Yes, of course, I see..."

Realization hits. His hand grips a pale green soap bar tightly as he echoes her words stumblingly. "Wha... You stabbed... *yourself*?" His wide eyes blink in confusion before he adds, "On purpose?"

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
"Nay, of course not!" Aleswyn exclaims loudly. "Why would a person stab herself on purpose? I was standing outside the Prancing Pony one night last week and the blacksmith, Mr. Rushlight, came out looking ill. That's why I stabbed myself." She says, as if that is a perfectly reasonable answer.

[Osmbise(#15760)]
"I'm afraid," Osmbise answers, his smirk slowly returning, "I don't understand." He gently places the soap back in its place.

[Pierce(#32225)]
Through the streams of people wandering the area, Pierce emerges carrying a small list that he is intently studying. The intensity is such that he bumps into an eldly woman who gives him what for. The man gruffly apologizes and goes back to his list, this time this steps taking him towards Aleswyn's table. "Let's see, soap, fresh linen. . . "

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
Pierce approaches her table, and this would be their first encounter since her stabbing. Aleswyn stands quickly, though carefully, and looks in his direction with a rather nervous expression on her face. "Mister Rushlight," she begins, and though it is obvious she means to say more, it is also quite obvious she hasn't managed to figure out what it was that she meant to say.

[Osmbise(#15760)]
The hobbit's gaze bounces awkwardly between the two Big Folk. "Hmm," he says almost to himself, "I am not sure this is..." his voice trails off. Then, abruptly, he fishes a few copper coins out of an unseen bag beneath his cloak. He places these purposefully on the table, then snatches up the greenish soap cake he had handled earlier. "If that's a fair amount, miss, I'll be off. Don't want to be..." he looks up at Pierce quickly, and finishes: "in the way!"

[Pierce(#32225)]
The familiar voice stops Pierce dead in his tracks. His face looses it's colour as he eyes rise from the paper to the speaker. He tenses, almost as if to take a step back, but instead with forced words says, "Ms. Aleswyn, Yer doin' better." His head slides a bit to the side to try and see her foot.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
With barely a glance at the change on her table, Aleswyn nods, "Aye, Master halfling, that is sufficient." Her gaze remains on the human. For once, her gaze doesn't even linger up and down the market. Could this have been the person she was seeking? "Aye, Mister Rushlight. I am doing better now. I errr ... I errr wanted to apologize to you about the misunderstanding. I made certain to tell Daniel immediately that you were not to blame."

[Osmbise(#15760)]
Visibly grateful for the dismissal, Osmbise slips between Rushlight and the table, clutching his newly-bought soap. The halfling's grey hair disappears into the Market crowd.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The blacksmith's gaze is not wholy convinced. He shakes his head slightly. "Some'n those words were soundin' a bit like you blamed me. Mind you I was just . . ." He stops and sets the list down. "Eh. It doesn't matter. The Chief and me worked it out," he shrugs, "least enough I'm out and back at the healing house. No small stir that caused the othernight. An' some are still afraid of me." He quietly snorts. "But pain makes you do strange things. I know that for certain."

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
Eager to jump at the excuse offered her, Aleswyn nods her head, "Aye, it does. It really does, you know. But," she continues, then looks up and down the marketplace again. Obviously, Pierce had not been the person she was initially trying to find. She slips a hand inside the pouch hanging from her side, and pulls something out, which she then offers to Pierce. "Mr. Rushlight, I wanted to offer this to you as a means of apology for ... well, for everything, really. And if you would like. Well, if you would like, I would be happy to let it be known by others in the Breelands that they've no reason to fear the blacksmith Mr. Pierce Rushlight."

Aleswyn +gives you a Silver Dime.

[Pierce(#32225)]
The Blacksmith takes the coins and looks at the lot in his hand. His eyes bounce from the coinage to the woman and back to the coins. "That's an awful lot ta say you're sorry with." He weighs the coins in his hands, and looks carefully at the woman. Doubt rests on his brow, "An' how're you gonna set my name straight in this place? It's been too tarnished an' now this last is almost as bad as the first."

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
The merchant still watches the market place, her gaze moving up and down the rows. Her breath catches at one point, then she sighs and glances back at Pierce, still slightly distracted. "You let me figure out how I will set your name straight, Mr. Rushlight. Of course, I had nothing to do with the previous bruises done to your name, but I have a daughter about your age. That means I have been around many years." She doesn't explain this last, somewhat cryptic response."

[Pierce(#32225)]
Pierce hand closes around the coins and stuffs them into his pocket. His face echos the confusion in his words. "Well, alright then. I guess. Would be nice to walk into the Pony and not be waitin' for the words to start churning and the looks to come your way." He shakes his head, "Or worse, a blade answers instead of a look." He snarls and a few fresh scars turn a deep shade of crimson. Just as he utters the words, a child walking with his mother points at Pierce. "Look mommie, isn't that the . ." the words are hushed and the child is pulled away quickly with concerned looks from his mother. His jaw trembles a bit at the edge and he looks back at Aleswyn, "I don't know how ya can undo that. Now if you'll excuse me." He turns to walk away. "Oh and thank you" He adds, before he sulks off, melting into the crowd.

[Aleswyn(#21413)]
In her stand near the Sewing Shoppe, Aleswyn rests on a couple stacked crates and has her left foot propped up on another crate. A neat display of soaps line the table in varying colors and shapes. Pierce Rushlight can be seen walking away.

[Ruine(#31963)] Trundling wagon, squeaky wheels. A brillant red cloak is wrapped around Ruine Shepherd's waist, its long fringes gathering dirt as it drags along the dirty streets of Bree Town while she pulls the handcart behind her. The cart is almost empty save for a flat sacking, grimy gray from age and what else and a spade, its scoop encrusted with dried mug.

Knife in the Dark: Scene 7

2005-08-20T15:37:00.000-04:00

Amon Sul
The short, windswept grass tenaciously clings to the top of Amon Sul here, poking up around the ruins of what appears to have once been a great tower. All that is left of it now is a wide ring of eroded foundation stones and a fair number of loose stones scattered about the hilltop. The top of Amon Sul appears peaceful and serene. In all directions below spreads Eriador, this hill offering a spectacular and wide reaching view of the land.
Contents:
Falred
Barliman

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Noon.

The sun is shining brightly down on the land, it's October hue brushing a rich colour to an otherwise desolate landscape. A group of weary travellers, apparently alone and painfully visible, stand at the base of what would pass as a bridge of grey-green land. Ahead of them the land rises steeply into a hill. The bright sun, and clear skys offer clear visibility for the 5 travellers, sight that extends for what seems like miles. In the deep quiet, every rush of wind, every bird call, echos around the area.

Sam stops and looks around, his eyes squint in the light, but he drinks in all he can see. "Better than that sawmp. . ." He whispers, his words echo painfully in his own ears. Beside him stands his faithful pony, much healthier than he seemed only days before. Sam reaches over and rubs the pony's nose, his eyes still scanning the area.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]

"At least there don't seem to be any midges here." Rubbing at his arm, Frodo pauses, gazing up at the crown of the hill above them. The last slope looks steep and rocky: it is no easy walk ahead if they would ascend, particularly for those with short legs.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"Midges or those noisy crickets!" Pippin chimes in. "Now maybe we'll be able to sleep at night!" He says cheerifully.

[.Meriadoc.(#14469)]
Merry, trudging upward beside-ish -- but mostly behindish - Frodo, grumbles as his little legs work to get him up the hillside. Watching as Strider labours ahead of them, Merry mutters to Frodo, I don't believe these legs can go a bit more without a bite... or two, if possible!"

[.Strider.(#15851)]
Strider draws himself up, and brushes a lock of unruly hair from his face. Keen grey eyes stare about unblinking, though he looks down and smiles wryly at the hobbits' comments. "We were unseen and not expected in the marshes, Master Samwise," he says quietly, "and I miss, rather, the concealment. Though... not the midges. But come, this is no place to talk. Up, and up. There we can stop, and rest, as need it. Come." Without waiting for a yea or nay, he begins to stride up the hill.

[.Meriadoc.(#14469)]
"Why don't we have Sam and Pip look 'round a bit here, Strider? After all, Sam can get to thinking about tea, and at any rate the Pony may need a rest as well." He nods enthusiastically, certainly more for the tea part than the pony part.

"Doesn't that sound good, Sam, lad?"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam and Pippin let out a chorus of groans at Strider's assessment. "Yes! Sam and I shall look to it! You fellows go on and storm that hill." Pippin chimes in.

Sam nods slightly, his under-nourished belly grumbles in agreemet, "I shall try to be more quiet, mister Strider. And Poor Bill here, " he pats the beast, "needs a rest too. 'sides, I don't think he'll take too kindly to climbing up that hill. Pack or no, I don't see a good trail for him to follow."

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
Frodo follows the tall figure with a sigh, shaking his head.

"Maybe we can rest at the top. . .I hope. At any rate, we have to stop some time, and then surely we'll have the chance for some food as well as rest."

Half an hour's plodding climb passes before they reach the crown of the hill, Frodo and Merry following, tired and breathless, behind Strider, only to reach a wide ring of ancient stone-work, now crumbling or covered with age-long grass. But in the centre. . .

A cairn of broken stones has been piled. They are blacked as if with fire. About them the turf is burned to the roots and all within the ring the grass is scorched and shrivelled, as if flames had swept the hill-top recently; but there is no sign of any living thing.

[.Meriadoc.(#14469)]
"Well, here we are!" Merry calls, standing at the rim of the little 'saucer' and looking out over the wide berth of land visible from here. Empty and featureless for the most part, the lands around are bathed in sunlight and very, very quiet. The Old Road is visible, as are some patches of woodland away South. The road away east disappears into the foothills of the Misty Mountains, above which white peaks glimmer within the cloudline.

"And a very cheerless and uninviting place, at that!" he adds, voicing his thoughts. "There is -no- water. there is -no- shelter. AND no sign of Gandalf. Not that I can blame him for not waiting -- if indeed ever he was here."

[.Strider.(#15851)]
The Ranger looked about him, his head turning left and right, his bearing that of a hunting falcon. "I wonder..." he murmurs, as if in answer to Merry's words. "Even were Gandalf a day or two behind us at Bree, he could have... could have arrived here before us. He can ride very swiftly when need presses." Suddenly he went still, then stooped towards the cairn of stones, staring at the one on the top. He siezed the top stone in his hand, as a hunting bird its prey, and looked closely at it. It was flatter than the rest, and whiter two, untouched by the flames. "This has been handled recently." He paused, then held the rock outwards. "What do you think of these marks?"

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
Frodo's brow furrows as he studies the scratches upon the stone.

"There seems to be a stroke, a dot, and three more strokes," he says at last, looking up at the Ranger inquisitively, as if for confirmation of his assessment.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"The stroke on the left might be a G-rune with thin branches," Strider muses, rubbing his thumb across the underside of the stone. "Might be a sign left by Gandalf... though one cannot be sure." He glances at the countryside about, shaking his head briefly. "The scratches are fine, they look fresh... But they might mean something quite different, and have nothing to do with us. Rangers use runes, and they come here sometimes." He shrugs noncommitally.

[.Meriadoc.(#14469)]
"What could they mean?" asks Merry. "Even if Gandalf DID make them?"

[.Strider.(#15851)]
Keen grey eyes study the rock again, as if peering into it, trying to peer backwards, into the time when the scratches were made. "I should say..." answers the Ranger, slowly, distantly, "That they stood for 'G3', and were a sign that Gandalf was here on october the third. That is three days ago now." His voice changes, strengthening, and he shakes himself and glances at the hobbits. "It would also show that he was hurried and danger was at hand, that he had no time or dared not write aught longer or plainer. If that is so..." His head lifts, and in his eyes there is a bright gleam. "Then we must be wary."

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
"I wish we could feel sure that he made the marks, whatever they may mean," says Frodo anxiously, still studying the stone as if it might suddenly betray its secrets. "It would be a great comfort to know that he was on the way, in front of us or behind us."

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"Perhaps," sighs Strider, sighing softly. "Myself, I believe that he was here, and was in danger. There have been scorching flames here, and now the light that we saw in the eastern sky three nights ago comes to my mind." He lifts his left hand, as if to trace the image of flames. "I guess that he was attacked here, on this hilltop, but I know not the result." He looks down at the hobbits, and offers a half-smile. "We must look after ourselves and find our own way to Rivendell... as best we can."

[.Meriadoc.(#14469)]
"How far then?" Merry asks, exhausted but enthusiastic. He gazes all around them, his eyes wide with the view of the landscape from atop the mountain. "How far to Rivendell?"

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"I do not know if the Road has ever been measured in miles beyond the "Forsaken Inn", a day's journey East of Bree," answers the Ranger, running a hand through the tousled tangle of his hair. "Some say it is so far, and others say otherwise. It is... a strange road." Once again he shrugs. "Folk are glad to reach the end of it, whether the journey is long or short. But I know how long it would take me on my own feet, with fair weather and no ill-fortune." Once more he looks down at the hobbits, and doubt comes into his eyes. Troubled, he sighs quietly, and brushes his fingers across his sword-pommel. "Twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen, where the road crosses the Loudwater that runs out of Rivendell. We have at least a fortnight's journey ahead of us, for I do not think we shall be able to use the Road."

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
"A fortnight!"

Frodo looks thoroughly distraught at this news.

"A lot may happen in that time."

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"It may." Strider's voice is grim and clear, and he clenches the stone tightly in his hand.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
They stand for a while silent on the hill-top, near its southward edge, Frodo staring down at the Road leading back westward. . .toward his home. His gaze is absent and bitter, and he seems almost to huddle inward within his small cloak.

Yet suddenly his gaze pulls into sharp focus: two black specks are moving slowly along the road, going westward, and three others are creeping eastward to meet them.

At once he gives a cry and clutches Strider's arm, pointing downwards.

"Look."

[.Strider.(#15851)]
The Ranger's gaze is pulled by the hobbit's word, pulled westward, and his grey eyes widen for a brief instant. Then, quick as thought, he flings himself on the ground behind the ruined circle, heedless of the stony ground. As he does so, he drops the rock and clasps Frodo's hand upon his arm to yank him down beside him. One, two breaths, are all the time this takes.

[.Meriadoc.(#14469)]
Meriadoc throws himself to the ground frantically beside Strider, though he may or may not have any reason why he's doing it. Scrambling to get nearer the other two, Merry whispers anxiously, "What!? What is it?"

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"I do not know." Strider's voice is a soft hiss over the stones. "I fear the worst." He looks up, then rises to his hands and knees. Carefully he peers through a cleft in the ruin of rock wall, looking out and down at the Road framed by two jagged stones.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
The light is no longer bright, for the clear morning has faded, and clouds creeping out of the East have now overtaken the sun, as it begins to go down. They can all see the black specks, but neither Frodo nor Merry can make out their shapes for certain; yet something tells them that there, far below, are Black Riders assembling on the Road beyond the foot of the hill, and Frodo shudders at the realization.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"The enemy is here," murmurs Strider with grim certainty, and there is a knife edge of cold hatred in his voice. He watches them for a moment, a brief moment that stretches across the long years from the creation of the rings to this moment. Then he lowers himself, and tugs at the hobbits' cloaks, before creeping softly but surely away from the ring, and down the side of the hill.

[.Meriadoc.(#14469)]
Merry and Frodo follow the Ranger cautiously down the hillside...

[.Meriadoc.(#14469)]
As the reach the dell where they left Sam and Pippin, Merry whispers loudly, "Pip! Samwise!? Where'r you off to?"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
As the three return from the top of the hill, Sam jumps up from the heavy bag he has been sitting on. Pippin who has been happily lying in the grass and staring in to the sky, rolls over and hops up when his cousins return. Despite their louging, by all appearances, the two had not been idle while Strider, Frodo and Merry had been gone. Sam stands next to a few little kettles of cool fresh water and a small pile of filled water jugs. His smile falters as he catches the expressions on their faces, but he apologetically gives an account of their actions "You were so long in coming mister Frodo sir, that Mister Pippin and me started started to look around a bit."

Pippin nods, "We found a splendid little spring just a half a walk over that way. Blessed cold water! Felt good on my sore feet. And it tastes as sweet as any in the Shire." Sam adds, "I fetched us as much as I could carry: filled all the bottles and even the kettles just in case. And Bill appreciated a good watering too."

Not to be outdone, Pippin walks to the pile of sacks that have been neaty arranged near the back edge of the little dell and and picks up a piece of burnt wood which he proudly displays. "Not only that, but it would appear that someone else has found our little place too." Pippin drops the burnt branch on the ground with a loud clatter.

Sam nods, "From what I see, it looks like someone was here not too long ago. There's a bit of a burnt fire over there, and fresh firewood that's not been burned, right up there in a small little hole in the rock. I all but almost missed it. Oh, and from all counts, looks like someone was also at out little water well too."

Sam looks up at Strider. His brown eyes look pensive, "I was wondering if it was Old Gandalf that had been here, to tell you the truth." His gaze drops to the neat stack of wood, "It would seem that whoever it was that left this stuff must have been planning on coming back. Else why would he have gone to so much trouble?" He drops his voice and asks in earnest, "Do you think Gandalf will come back here?"

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]

"Good water? That's wonderful - but I don't know that it would be good to go looking around again - "

Frodo's words are coherent enough, but he seems distracted, pale and absent in his gaze, as one who has just had a shock.

At the additional news, his eyes alight, and he ventures closer to the stack of wood, studying it as warily as if it might jump up and bite before looking up at the Ranger with anxious, hopeful eyes.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
Strider listens closely, and as he does, his brow furrows. He tugs at the edges of his cloak, then shrugs slightly. What is done is done, and cannot be undone. "I wish I had waited and explored the ground down here myself," he mutters, and his voice is as troubled as his gaze. Without further word or explanation, he turns and hurries to the spring, to see what he may while the light holds.

[.Meriadoc.(#14469)]
"Ahhh! Whoever-it-was didn't leave a brace of coneys freshly roasted, did he Sam? I'm starvin'!" Merry's voice, of course -- he looks back and forth between the other hobbits seeking approval of his thoughts, and then glances at his feet as he realizes how shallow he's being...but sitll, his poor tummy is rumbling something awful.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Pippin hurries over to Frodo, "Cousin! Why the troubled look?" He carefully studies Frodo's eyes-- as carefully as Pippin can. " Here! Drink this, the cool water will do you good and set your mind at ease. After all these dreadful nights with those nasty midges, and stinky swamp, this will rival any drink you could find!"

Sam slumps his shoulders slightly, "Mister Merry, I was afraid to, if you'll pardon me, to go setting anything out while the three of you were off. It's a plesant place, mind you, but what with Mister Strider leading us and all, I didn't know that you would come back and call for us to hurry off in some new direction." Sam's own stomach replies to Merry's with a grumble and and a growl.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Merry nods sadly, looking between his companions qith a solemn look on his face. "Still, as much as I had hoped we'd have a chance to relax and eat a time or three this eve, it may not be so..." He steps a touch closer to Sam and gestures toward Strider, using his stage whisper once more, "They say Black Riders!"

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
"It's. . .it's nothing to worry about now, Pip."

Forcing a wan smile, Frodo accepts, taking a long drink, looking a bit relieved at once.

"This *is* good, isn't it? Thank you. . .it's most welcome after that. . .well, I couldn't call it a walk. . . ."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Pippin's ears twitch as Merry gives his verdict. Frodo's words do little to console him. "The black riders?" He squeaks, "Oh no! Where are they now? What shall we do?" Pippin fidgits uncofortably. "And did you see them? Did they see you, Frodo?"

[.Strider.(#15851)]
As silently as Strider left, he re-appears, and he stands for a long moment watching the hobbits with something akin to wistfulness in his eyes. Then he steps forwards, shaking his head. "It is as I feared," he murmurs, glancing at the pair they had left behind. "Same and Pipping trampled the soft ground, so that the marks are spoilt or confused." There is no accusation or anger in his voice, just a soft finality. "Rangers have been here lately, and they left the firewood." He pauses, then steps closer, and his voice lowers. "But... there are newer tracks, ones not made by Rangers... At least one set was made, a day or two ago, by heavy boots. At least one..." He sighs, running his fingers through his hair until they catch on the snarls, and he glances back at the spring. "I cannot now be certain... but I think... there were many booted feet."

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
Frodo swallows, nearly choking on a sip of water, the relief in his fair features promptly disappearing into despair.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Merry's eyes open wide at the tale of a hundred boot-shod soldiers, and his jaw drops as well. His gaze follows that of Strider, and his bottom lip quivers as he stammers, "But.. bu.. b...."

Eventually, he gives up and falls totally silent, terror still on his face.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Pippin's figditing is replaced by full-fledged trembles.

Sam looks around, fear and terror rising on his face. He looks at the path that brought them to the dell and backs away from it slowly. "Then aught we clear out quick, mister Stider? No need to be sitting here like a rat caught in a barrel." He looks up and frowns at the darkness of the sky. "An' it's getting late. I don't like it here now. This whole business makes my heart sink somehow."

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"Yes... we certainly must decide what to do at once," answers the Man, nodding his head. But he makes no move to go or to stay, but instead looks up at the sky, the west and the east. He tilts his head, then lifts one hand, feeling the touch of the wind upon it. His nostrils flair, and he draws in a deep breath of air, as if tasting it, testing it. For so he considers the time and weather, much as a wild beast, though with more deliberation.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Merry continues to look from person to person with fear in his eyes as he asks, "Can the Riders -see-? I mean, they seem to have used their noses, not their eyes. As if they were smelling for us, rather than looking for us.... if smelling is the right word. But you made us lie down up there, when you saw them on the road... and now you talk of being seen, if we move..."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"Then where will we go? It's getting darker!" Pippin asks, his voice trembles at a high pitch despite his attempts to be quiet.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"Well... Sam, I do not like this place either," murmurs Strider at last, his voice distant, "but I cannot think of anywhere better we could reach before nightfall. At least we are out of sight. If we moved we should be seen by spies. North... the land is much the same as it is here, and we should have to cross the road to get to the thickets away south... and the Road is watched." He shakes himself, and glances at Merry. "I was too careless on the hilltop," he admits. "I was anxious to find sign of Gandalf, but we stayed too long. For the black horses can see, and men and.. other things... can be used as spies.

"They do not see the world of light as we do, but our forms cast shadows in their thoughts. And at night they can see signs and portents hidden to us. It is then.. we must fear them most." His voice lowers, speaking gravely, telling a fireside tale of terror that is all too real. "At all times they smell the blood of the living, hating it, desiring it. And as we feel their presence, feel it as a darkness in our hearts, know that they feel our presence more clearly." He sighs softly, then looks at Frodo with a sort of kind pity, and his voice slips to a bare whisper. "The Ring draws them most of all...'

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
"Is there no escape then?" says Frodo, looking round wildly, in a panic. "If I move I shall be seen and hunted! If I stay, I shall draw them to me!"

[.Strider.(#15851)]
Gently, reassuringly, Strider rests his hand upon Frodo's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "There is still hope. You are not alone," he answers, and his voice suddenly strengthens, resolve driving away doubt and fear. he knows what he must do, and the cost of both failure and success. "Let us take this wood that is set ready for the fire as a sign. There is little shelter... or defence... here, but fire shall serve as both." Indeed his eyes kindle, as though within, a fire is already lit. "Sauron can put fire, as all things, to his evil uses..." He smiles grimly. "But these Riders do not love it, and fear those who wield it. Fire is our friend in the wilderness."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"Fire, our friend?" Sam muses, his face tightens, "Maybe, but the darker it gets, I can't think of a better way to say 'Here we are!' unless we all were just to rise up and shout it."

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Now that that's settled..." Merry says incorrectly. "Let's find a place to get dinner going!"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
As the night begins envelops them, a chill sets in. Much against his better sense, Sam helps Pippin set up a small fire in the deep corner of the dell. Soon small flames begin burning cheerfully. In the warming glow, Sam deftly prepares a small array of dishes with a simple fare set out on them: a couple of loaves of hard bread, some dried meats and fruit; a very meager fare even for those not used to the regular feasts of the Shirefolk. "I'm afraid this will have to do" Sam says as he beckons the others over to the food.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
Frodo, meanwhile, looks entirely disheartened, and the suggestion of dinner does little more than evoke a sigh. The shades of evening are beginning to fall; it is growing cold, and he shivers despite his warm cloak and the success of Sam's fire.

"It's fine, Sam," he manages, adopting a smile, though his eyes remain dim with concern as he settles down near the fire with his share. Looking up toward Strider, he lowers his voice a little, warily.

"I don't see how our food can be made to last. We have been careful enough in the last few days, and this supper is no feast; but we have used more than we ought, if we have two weeks still to go, and perhaps more."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Pippin looks up from his plate as Frodo speaks. "Two weeks?" He says through a mouth full of bread. "Did he just say two weeks?" Pippin asks Sam. Sam nods, "Then you had best be eating that more slowly, mister Pippin!" he replies.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"There is food in the wild..." Strider's tone is mild as he gnaws on a hunk of bread, dipping it briefly in a cup of water to soften it. "Root, berry, herb... and I have... some skill... as a hunter at need." He takes a slip of dried meat with fingers half-wiped free of the grime of travel, and chews on it slowly, savoring it. "You need not be afraid of ... starving..." A smile flits over his lips as he looks at the hobbits. "Before winter. But gathering and catching food is long and weary work. We need haste most of all. So... tighten your belts and think with hope of the tables of Elrond's house!" He smiles again, and with a slight shake of his head, returns to the eating of his own small meal.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Night falls full-on as the hobbits and the ranger partake of their smallish meals. Dining as only hunted travellers can, they pass the time quietly, mostly in thought -- fear? -- and stargazing. Merry, for his part, huddles close to the fire, bundling up with every scrap and cloth he can find on hhis person and in his pack, and still shivers.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
The cold begins to increase as darkness comes on.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
Shivering, Frodo - now finished with his meal - draws his cloak more closely about him, and begins gathering his blanket and extra wraps from his pack, bundling up as if freezing.

"What I wouldn't give to be back by my fire at Bag End just now. . . ." he murmurs wistfully.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Despite the warmth of the fire, Pippin shivers uncontrollably. He hurries over to his pack and removes a large pile of clothing. Which he then attempts to wear: all of it, at once. He even goes so far to wrap a heavy woolen sweater around his feet.

Sam resists the cold slightly longer, but also reduces himself to fetching extra clothing and blankets. Soon he is bundled tightly and sitting as close to the fire as he can manage without setting the clothing on fire. "Anywhere inside, I'd take right now." says Sam.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
Strider withdraws a little way, and slips from a pouch his long-stemmed pipe. His fingers run lightly over it, and then he fills and lights it. his motions slow, almost reverent. It is not so much love of the pipe as a deep appreciation for even the smallest comfort. He drew in the smoke, tasting it on his tongue as though it were food to add to the simple supper, and then blows it out again, and his eyes shine in the glow of the embers. He looks upon the huddled hobbits, and a flicker of pity--? sorrow--? comes to his eyes. "Men first came into the West over the Blue Mountains west of your home," he murmurs, his voice scarce more than a crackle of flame on the firewood, but strangely resonant all the same. "Into Lindon, though it was not called such at the time, but Ossiriand, Land of the Seven Rivers. Ascar, Thalos, Legolin, Brilthor, Duilwen, and fair Adurant where was Tol Galen the fair. They emptied into Gelion, and the river flowed like singing. One day the King of Nargothrond, Finrod Felagund came riding, and saw the men as they camped. He took up a harp laid upon the ground, and began to sing, so that the Men passed from sleeping dreams into a waking one..." Speaking softly, clearly, Strider spins tales of the Elder Days, his voice eager and changed, half-sung, and his eyes gleaming with light seeming more than the fire.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam sits spellbound at Strider's tale. His eyes sparkle in the firelight, dim visions of the past dance in the flame as the master story teller recounts the history. Sam draws in a quick breath: 'Elder Days!'

[Barliman(#14469)]
At the end of one of Strider's tales, Merry's dreamy eyes refocus and he sits up quickly, and looks at him. "Tell us of Gil-Galad, please? Do you know any more of that old lay you spoke of? I should love to hear it..."

[.Strider.(#15851)]
Strider remains silent for a moment, gazing thoughtfully into the fire. "I do," he says quietly, his voice still low. "I do indeed. So also... does Frodo... for it concerns us deeply..."

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
Frodo sits staring into the fire. . .but at last he speaks, albeit slowly.

"I know only the little that Gandalf has told me. Gil-galad was the last of the great Elf-kings of Middle-earth. Gil-galad is Starlight in their tongue. With Elendil, the Elf-friend, he went to the land of - "

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"No." Strider's voice is not loud, but it is crisp, and cuts as cleanly as the edge of a honed sword. "I do not think that tale should be told now with the servants of the Enemy at hand." He glances about, and his hands clench. "If we win through to the house of Elrond, you may hear it there, and told in full."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
In the fire light, Sam's looks surprised at Strider's insistance, but his eyes glow nonetheless and he asks in time, "Then tell us some other tale from the old days." If the light was greater, one might see his fearful countenance soften as he asks, "a tale about the Elves before the fading time." His voice drops low and quiet. Reverently he begs, "I would dearly like to hear more about Elves, sir. I would to think that such tales should warm the heart and cheer the soul in this darkened place."

Pippin nods quietly in agreement with Sam. "Another tale!"

[.Strider.(#15851)]
Aragorn thinks a moment, then nods, a sad smile coming to his lips. "I will tell you the tale of Tinuviel," he murmurs, his voice folding about the elven name, speaking it with deep affection. "In brief-- for it is a long tale of which the end is not known... ant there are none now save Elrond who remember it aright as it was told of old." He straightens, puts out his pipe, and tucks it away. "It is a fair tale, though a sad one, as are all tales of Middle-Earth. Yet it may lighten your hearts." He closes his eyes for a brief moment, then looks up at the star-sprinkled sky. The silence stretches, grows, and even the crackle of the fire seems stilled. Then, his voice lifting and lilting, he begins not to speak, but to chant in soft cadence.

[Barliman(#14469)]
The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wander flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following.

Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She tightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Merry's eyes sparkle as he hears his request fulfilled. Wide-eyed and sitting up straight now, his attention is rapt upon the Ranger as he chants the words of olde.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
For this time, this rare time, Strider stands as the elves do, aware of the waking world and yet caught in memory. For he watches the dell about them, his keen gaze scanning its lip, but he walks in Doriath as well, where nightengales still sing along the Esgalduin, as he chants the ancient words.

[Barliman(#14469)]
He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beechen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a hill-top high and far
She danced, and at her feet was strewn
A mist of silver quivering.

When winter passed, she came again,
And her song released the sudden spring,
Like rising lark, and falling rain,
And melting water bubbling.
He saw the elven-flowers spring
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing
Upon the grass untroubling.

Again she fled, but swift he came.
Tinviel! Tinviel!
He called her by her elvish name;
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinviel
That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw there mirrored shimmering.
Tinviel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,
Through halls of iron and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at last they met once more,
And long ago they passed away
In the forest singing sorrowless.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
Strider's voice fades into silence, and he sighs softly, then takes a long drink out of his cup, draining it of the chilled water. "That is a song in the mode called ann-thennath among the Elves, but it is hard to render into our Common Speech. It is a rough echo of the tale, that tells of the meeting of Beren son of Barahir, a mortal Man, and Luthien Tinuviel, the daughter of Thingol, a King of Elves. It was in the morning of this world, and she was the fairest of all the children of the world. Herface was a shining light, her loveliness like the stars above the northern mists.

"In those days the Great Enemy lived in Angband, in the north, he of whome Sauron is... was.. but a servant. The Elves made war on him, and in these wars the fathers of Men aided them. But the Enemy was victorious, and Barahir was slain, and Beren escaped over the Mountains of Terror and into the hidden kingdom. There he saw Luthien dancing..." His face alight, he tells to the hobbits the tale in brief, but still long. "And of their union came in time the Kings of Numenor... " His voice fades, and he stares into the fire with eyes alight, and a strange, longing, eager expression on his weatherworn face.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
As Strider speaks, the watch his strange eager face, dimly lit in the red glow of the wood-fire. Above him is a black starry sky.

Suddenly a pale light appears over the crown of Weathertop behind him. The waxing moon is climbing slowly above the hill that ovoershadows them, and the stars above the hill-top are fading.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Look!" Merry says, pointing skyward over Strider's head. He continues, "The Moon is rising! It must be getting late -- see how big it is from here!"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Pippin looks up at Strider. "What an amazing story. I wonder how he knows all that?" He muses to himself. He pulls a blanket closer around him and yawns, "I'll say it's late, and I don't need the moon to tell me that!" He mumbles.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
Frodo looks up. . .but even as he does so, there is, on the top of the hill, something small and dark against the glimmer of moonrise.

Perhaps only a large stone or jutting rock shown up by the pale light.

Perhaps.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
As Strider finishes the tale, the spell is broken, and Sam finally speaks "What a tale to behold. . .". He sits for a moment then stiffly rises from his place near the fire. Shortly, Sam sheds a few of the outer layers that he had previously donned and moves out of the small circle of the firelight, heading roughly in the direction of the water spring. In the pale light, he is visible for a few yards before he begins to fade into the darkness around the small camp.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
All seems quiet and still, but Frodo shivers, as if with a cold dread. He remains seated, gazing out into the darkness anxiously.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Merry accompanies Sam, moving toward the moonlight until perhaps they are represented by Silhouettes. They seem to be moving toward the sillouette of the jutting rock or large stone.. or whatever it is.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
Meanwhile, Frodo huddles closer to the fire, still trembling.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Pippin's pile of clothes and blankets begins to snore quietly and uncomfortably.

[NazgulNumber7(#27059)]
But suddenly the rocks begin move! A darker shade of black against the nightly sky. Slowly they approach the two wandering Hobbits.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
Strider turns his gaze towards the rising of the Moon, and watches Ithil's pale light gleam upon the hillside's edge. His eyes reflect the pale, dead light, as he watches intently, his whole body poised, even though he sits.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Faster than a scared hare, Sam comes running back, his face drained of all colour. "I don't know what it is, " Sam whispers hoarsely, "but a sudden fear's come upon me." He fearfully glances over his shoulder, "I daren't leave this fire for neither love nor money. I felt it, " he swallows, " I felt that something, or . . .someone was crawling up the slope. Creeping, as it were, right for us!" He shudders.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Merry pauses as he sees a shape move, and he mutters, "Sam, I don't think..."

But Sam has sprinted past him, and he turns now -- perhaps not as frightened as Sam, but headed back toward the fire nonetheless.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
No surprise shows on Strider's face; it is as though he expected this. Perhaps it is why he told the old tales, to strengthen the hobbits and himself. "Keep close to the fire, with your faces outwards!" he cries, his voice urgent, quiet, yet intense as a shout. "Get some of the longer sticks ready in your hands!"

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
For a breathless time they stand there, silent and alert, with their backs turned to the wood-fire, each gazing into the shadows encircling them.

Nothing happens.

There is no sound or movement in the night.

Frodo stirs, shifting uncomfortably, as if to break the silence.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam's hasty entrance and Strider's plea stirs Pippin. "What's this? What's going on?" He asks, still not fully awake, but he jumps to his feet at the direction.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Mister Strider," exclaims Merry. "I was sure I saw something move!" Late as always, Merry seems to be a step behind. Looking out into the darkness, he seems movement again and shrieks, throwing himself flat on the ground and cov ering his head. His very soul is pierced with the terror of the Nazgul, and he lies, stone-still and rigid on the ground.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"Hush!" whispers Strider, shaking his head. There is no fear in his eyes, his voice, his bearing; if he feels it he has mastered the fear and buried it deep. He pulls two branches closer-- one for each hand-- and leaving their ends in the fire. He sits erect, tense, ready as a cat to pounce.

[Black_Rider(#26563)]
Over the lip of the little dell, on the side away from the hill, the night seems chill, absent of life. A shadow rises, one, perhaps more. As the moments pass it seems to grow, and as the seconds go by it is apparent, several tall and fell black figures stand on the very edge of the hilltop, peering up at Frodo and his companions. Darker than the night itself, they throw the evening into sharp contrast. A faint hiss sounds from one of them, full of the same cold and vitriol as their very presence.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
As terror approaches, Sam shrinks back next to Frodo. He swallows nevrously.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Merry whimpers. He cannot -see- anything, but who needs to? The chill -- the evil in the air is enough, and the goofy young hobbit from Buckland, The Shire is definitely not at home. He sobs in his terror, unable to stand and help even if he had a desire to.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
All sleep is lost on Pippin and he too stands a nervous wreck. In the fire light, his eyes glow big as human sized saucers.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
Frodo quakes as if he is bitter cold. . .but he seems almost absent, his terror swallowed up in. . .something else. . . .

*The Ring. . .I must put on the Ring!*

The desire to do this lays hold of him, the thought consuming him.

He says nothing, but shuts his eyes tightly, as if engaged in some dark struggle.

*Put it on. . . .*

*No!*

*Put it on. . . .*

Resistance becoming at last unbearable, at last he slowly puts a hand to his pocket and slowly draws out the chain. . .

. . .then slips the ring onto the forefinger of his left hand.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam's gaze departs from the terror before him and turns fully to his master. His brow furrows, while he mirrors Frodo's anguish in his eye. But he is frozen to the spot and moves not a muscle. "Mister Frodo, sir. . . " His words barely leave his lips

[.Strider.(#15851)]
Cold envelops him, surrounds him, and it is as though a voice speaks to him. -You shall never survive. You shall never be king. And in your failure, the Ring shall come to him, and she will curse your name as the darkness overwhelms her, and she passes from the world.- Yet Strider shakes his head, crouching now, and slides his hands towards the brands. Never before has he faced his foe so closely or openly... Ready now... be ready...

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Pippin bites a trembling lip, but stares into the dark void in front of him. His eyes narrow as he tries to see into the forbidding darkness.

[Black_Rider(#26563)]
When Frodo vanishes from view, the three Black Riders advancing halt. The leader, the tallest of the three steps forward, in one hand a cold steel sword, the other wielding a knife, illuminating his gloved hand with a pale light gives off no warmth. The lead Rider looks down, and a hollow cackle is forced from him, as he stands ready.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Merry is out for it. He doesn't know what's going on, and he doesn't want to. His body wracked with the terror of the Servants of the Dark Lord, he continues to sob and convulse under the pressure of the evil in his presence. His face remains downturned... he sees nothing, and especially not Frodo.

[Barliman(#14469)]
One of the Nazgul advancing beside the Witch King turns his head with an urgency toward Frodo at the very instant the Ring is borne. To the clear vision of the Ring-bearer only, his motions are evident:

He points a crooked, evil hand toward the hobbit, his jet-black
mantle splaying open and displaying flowing grey robes beneath.
Grey hair which contrasts heavily with his pale, sickly face is
brushed back on his dead Kingly head, which holds up a helm of
brushed silver. His evil piercing eyes dig and burn into the
flesh of the hobbit, and he takes a step toward Frodo behind
his Lord, the Master of the Nine.

Bending his every thought and power toward causing this creature
pain, if only through the power of the Dark Lord's Sorcery, the
Nazgul takes a miniscule step forward, anxious to aid his Master.

To others at the tip of Weathertop, the Nazgul may appear to be moving, maybe standing still -- maybe too enshrouded in shadow to be made out at all... but the terror he bears to their fireside must be evident, must be literally tangible... must cause them to want to run....

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Pippin closes his eyes just as Frodo vanishes; he swallows hard and trembles, "Help!" his mouth moves, but remains soundless.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
And indeed, where Frodo was only a second earlier, he no longer seems to be there!

But he is, however, still very much present, and suddenly the shapes become terribly clear. Beneath their black wrappings all is visible: there are five tall figures, and in their white faces burn keen and merciless eyes.

At the cackle, a shudder as that of one fallen into icy water in winter runs through the hobbit. An effort to further draw his cloak about himself is of no avail, for the cold which now assails him is not of the kind which can be assuaged by natural means.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
To run, to hide, to be safe for once in his long life. *Estel, Estel, do not fear, it was only a dream. Just a dream, child, just a dream.* Oh, to be far away from here, far when from here... Strider shakes his head, pushing back at the chill that seeks to blind his thoughts, corrupt his heart. For the stars still gleam, shrouded by the darkness and not by it corrupted. He reaches back towards the fire, though his limbs seem to move as though through ice. The hair upon his knuckles is singed, and the scent of it more than the heat clears his thoughts. Frodo is gone, and shadows seem to be between himself and all the hobbits!

[NazgulNumber7(#27059)]
Another flanks the pale master of terror, iron-gloved hand holding a sword that points at Frodo. His off-white face reveals a grin and his eyes are cast on the Hobbit as if they were to pierce through his living flesh.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam stares through the place where Frodo just was. His own safety is of no import any longer. "Mister Frodo!" He cries. He starts searching vainly for Frodo, though his body still refuses him movement. As he scans the area, his own eyes seem to be shrouded with a darkening mist. "Strider! Help!"

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
If Frodo hears Sam's cry, or those of his other companions, he heeds them not: all his attention is on the terrifying figures before him. Still he shivers as if with cold, and reaches with trembling hand for his own sword.

Is it only to him that it seems to flicker red, as if it is a firebrand?

[Black_Rider(#26563)]
The tallest of the Black Riders is black no longer. His eyes burn with merciless hatred that is focused solely upon the Ringbearer, upon Frodo himself. In place of his shadowy garments is a robe that matches his brethren, worn and grey. On his silver helm is perched a crown, which rests over his long grey hair. He notes Frodo's horror, and a wicked smile crosses his face that does not touch his eyes. He springs forward with cold sword and awful dagger, bearing down upon Frodo.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Continuing to advance behind the King of the Nazgul, the Fourth seems to glide over the ground -- he does not appear to have legs, but moves as if on a conveyor belt, smoothly and slowly toward the Hobbit Ringmaster. The words of the rhyme of old may be heard -- may be felt as the Nazgul advance on their ultimate target...

Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul,
ash nazg thrakatulk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul

As the words of Sam ring out, the Fourth glares at him, and the thoughts of the Dark Lord's Servant may burn in the mind of Frodo's loyal servant. "Back! You are but a pawn, and your heart will freeze if you make even one move!"

And as Frodo bears his weapon, the Fourth halts, defering to his Master's advance and bringing out a silver-toned, deadly Longsword, holding it before him as he faces Sam, his back now to Strider.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Fear for his master finally manages to unloose Sam's legs and he moves towards the place where he last saw the ring bearer.

"Mister Frodo?" he cries in fear, but not for himself alone.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
In his years Frodo has known terror. . .but nothing to compare to this moment.

At once, shivering, he throws himself forward on the ground.

"O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!"

*Was that -my- voice?* he wonders, for he hears himself as if it were another, not he, who cried aloud the name. But no, the voice was his. . . .

And at the same time. . .he strikes at the feet of the tallest figure.

[NazgulNumber7(#27059)]
The third of the Nazgul that had advanced joins his fell companions. But as Frodo brandishes his fiery weapon he halts beneath Sam and he cackles at the words of his fellow wraith. "Begone," he hisses and the flat of his blade idly knocks on Samwise's forehead.

[Black_Rider(#26563)]
A piercing shriek rings out in the night, as the Pale King is struck by blade and the name of Elbereth. To those not mindful of the realm of shadows, his cloak can be seen being torn free from his robes, slashed near his legs by an unseen foe. He lashes out with his terrible dagger, his aim ruined by the quick movements of the Ringbearer. With a hiss, he falls back from the hobbit, his friends and their terrible fire, the ancient name of the one so treasured by the Elves still ringing in his ears.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
Slow, too slow, must it always be? Yet he has done naught since they came into the dell but fight against their power. Strider grabs hold of the brands, then leaps to his feet, thrusting the brands towards the dark shapes. He cries aloud, the words elvish, an echo of forgotten tales. Perhaps words Gil-galad spoke? Or are they the words of challenge that Fingolfin spoke to Morgoth, mocking him, defying the darkness? He swings the brands in arcs of light against the darkness, and all coldness, all slowness, falls from him. *I am ragorn, son of Arathorn, and if by life or death I can save you, I will!* Fulfilling his vow, he leaps with fire at his foes, heedless of his own safety.

[NazgulNumber7(#27059)]
The one who just struck down Samwise joins the horrified shriek of his master, the name of Elbereth Gilthoniel striking down on him like fire. And then real fire comes upon them, carried by the Heir of Isildur. Hissing, the shadow holds out his sword to parry a firebrand and backs away.

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
The shriek is not the only cry, though it drowns this out: the blade finds a target, even if not its original intention.

*Like a dart of poisoned ice. . . .*

Pain piercing his left shoulder, Frodo swoons, his efforts at movement felled by dizziness and a view of the world as through a swirling mist.

*No. . . .*

With a last effort, he drops his sword. . .and the right hand reaches to the left, slipping something from his finger.

The right hand closes tight upon the ring.

[Barliman(#14469)]
The Fourth's head is yanked, swiveling on his neck as the Ringbearer strikes his King. His terrible, piercing eyes widen, and the assistant to the Witch-King swivels his entire body, stepping now toward the Hobbit Ringbearer and his Master.

His thoughts, directed to his brethren...
"Thrak-burz-um! Thrakburzum u-ghaash!"

As his Master is beset by Elven tongue and Elven Blade, the Fourth is beset by twirling flaming branches. Lifting his sword in defense, he stebs backward, the terror-filled shriek piercing the night.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
The unseen blow sends Sam reeling and he falls over, taking Pippin with him. There, in a small heap of Hobbit, Sam has Pippin pinned securely to the ground, both unable to move.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Merry, somehow, becomes alert as the ring is removed from Frodo's finger. And whether out of a guilty feeling since he has lain still so long or of sheer terror and misdirection, Meriadoc Brandybuck, young lad that he is, rises from the stiff log he has been and rages toward his friends... "SAAAAAAAAAAAAM!" he calls, pulling at the hobbit on top of Pippin. "PIP! We must help Frodo! LOOK!"

Pointing toward their friend, who has been stabbed and lies unconscious on the ground, Merry screams loudly, his own pitch not matching that of the Nazgul but impressive nonetheless.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
"Frodo!" Strider cries, as he swings his primitive, but effective weapons at the foe. "Samwise! Merry! Pippin!" The hobbits seem to have fallen, and where is Frodo? There, a little apart, surrounded by shadows, a black cloak beside him. "By Elbereth, by all the Valar," he cries, advancing now. Rage flames in his heart brighter and fiercer than the flaming brands, and his eyes burn brightly. At every shadow he thrusts the firebrands, and if the shadows be Nazgul, so much the better.

[NazgulNumber7(#27059)]
"Ghaaash!" The Third hovers away from Strider as his robe is set alight. Hobbits pile on the ground, Nazgul try to avoid the bite of fire - Weathertop sees the chaos of combat once more.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Pippin pushes against Sam grunting at his weight. "Get off me!" He huffs. He succeeds in rolling the stunned Sam from off his chest and he jumps up, but can't immediately see what Merry sees. Instead his gaze is drawn entirely to Strider and his flaming weapons.

[Black_Rider(#26563)]
His shrieking died away to hiss that has long outlasted what mortal lungs could manage, the leader of the Black Riders motions to the others, speaking out in their harsh, gutural language. He backs away, laughing shrilly, sheathing his sword as he does so. He knife is now absent from his other hand.

[Barliman(#14469)]
So recently has this moutaintop been charred to a crisp -- now it stands to suffer further as the Nazgul seem ready to face off against the King of Men, if it were known.

But perhaps it is not to be -- The Fourth sees his Master backing off, and the influence of Strider's Flame is heavy -- he backsteps, waving his sword about him... the heat from Strider's branches is pressing, and he steps back again.

His eyes remain on the fallen hobbit Frodo, and somehow, someway, it may very well be evident that this creature... this evil, black minion of the Dark Lord of Mordor... is actually glad, during this moment. If these horrid terrible creatures can indeed experience joy, this one does now -- their goal may well be met, and so easily, at that!

He hisses, a long series of intricate sounds which may sound like wind to the man and the hobbits, but to his brethren the meaning is obvious, "Lord, you have destroyed him! He will not last -- did you leave your blade in him? We can collect It soon enough..."

[NazgulNumber7(#27059)]
And so the helpers of the pale king withdraw from the scene, leaving the Ringbearer behind, who carries their deadly mark now.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Merry races toward Frodo, crying out to him as Strider pushes the Nazgul back with his flaming branches. "FRODO! Master Frodo!" He is sobbing again, this time in fear for his friend's death rather than for the terror ripping his very soul apart...

Reaching for his fallen friend, he screams into the night, his words unintelligible...

[Frodo_Baggins(#30363)]
Nearby, Frodo lies motionless, his right hand closed tightly, as if clasping some small object within.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Merry's cries ring through to Sam and he staggers to his feet. He shakes his head and stumbles over to the place where Frodo lay: by all appearance . . . "Mister Frodo? Mister Frodo!" Sam's lament rises and sores into the star filled sky; his anguish echos off the hills walls and form a chorus of misery.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Pippin moves somberly over to where his dear cousin lay. His says nothing, but his contorted face spills tears.

[.Strider.(#15851)]
The Ranger presses his attack until the Nazgul have left the dell, and then he draws in a long breath. He returns to the fire and drops the branches in, just as they kindle fully and fire licks the grip his hands so recently held. Hearing Merry's cry, he looks at the hobbits, his eyes taking in the scene. He steps briefly towards them, then turns in indecision towards the lip of the dell. No. They could fall upon them as he tended the Ringbearer. "Steady," he says gently. "Lift him up, and take him to the fire. Keep him warm." He shakes his head, and strides back towards the lip of the dell. In the darkness, his green cloak is as black as those of their foes. "Keep him warm," he repeats, and the moonlights catches his eyes, and for a moment in them a queer gleam flickers. Then, silent as a shadow, he is off, following after the Ringwraiths, swallowed by the darkness...

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Strider's words slowly sift through Sam's misery and he tearfully nods. He bends down and carefully rolls Frodo over, and takes a sharp breath as he does so. With uttermost care, he slowly lifts Frodo's lifeless body off the unforgiving ground. He strains under the dead weight, but manages to shuffle slowly over towards the fire. "Careful!" Pippin cries as Sam starts to set his master down. "Don't bump his head!" Sam complies and straightens Frodo out on the ground close to the fire. Pippin brings his bundle of blankets over and spreads them over Frodo as Sam has rolled his cloak and placed it under Frodo's head. Sam kneels down next to Frodo and stares carefully into his face. He turns away, brushing tears from his eyes. "No where's that Strider run off too?" He says through measured sobs. His eyes search the darkness hopelessly and in vain.

[Barliman(#14469)]
As Merry, Pippin, and Sam, huddle over Frodo's body, a gloom falls upon the summit of Weathertop. Strider races downhill after the Nazgul, and three homesick, miserable hobbit lament the death? ... certainly at least the mortal wounding ... of their companion and friend and relative... Merry sobs, Sam doubts the good of Strider, and Pippinworks to warm his cousin.

But hobbits are made of sterner stuff than most can imagine, and amazingly, this Frodo Baggins of Crickhollow, Buckland, is not quite dead yet.

Knife in the Dark: Scene 5

2005-08-16T10:40:00.000-04:00

================ +SHIRE TIME ==============
RL (Arizona) Time is Tue Aug 16 15:20:01 2005 (+time).
-----------------------------------------------------------

Hobbit Quarters at the Prancing Pony

Everything in this room, even the room itself, is small and just the perfect size for hobbits. A round window, framed in green, lies in the north wall of the room. All the walls of this room are painted bright white and are curved, just the way the hobbits prefer. Set into the west wall of the room is a large stone hearth with a perfectly laid fire and plenty of wood beside, as well as a few low comfortable-looking chairs that are covered in purple fabric. Bright green throw rugs lie scattered about on the hardwood floor. Two low beds lie along the walls, covered with thick green and purple quilts and pillows. There are small, hobbit-sized lumps under the blankets, and a bit of brown curls peeps out on the fat pillows. Bright brass hooks have been nailed into the wall close to the round, bright green door, and a large wardrobe appears on the other side.

Contents:
Sidhel
Barliman
Frodo_Baggins
Hemlock as Merry
StriderandFerny

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
The early night is still.

All is quiet.

Frodo starts, waking from deep sleep as if some sound or presence has disturbed him.

Sitting up abruptly with a slight shiver, his eyes search the room, fear lighting the expression within their depths. . .fading to a smoulder of anxiety as his gaze swiftly finds Strider.

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
Pippin turns around in his sleep and mumbles something of cream pie and tea and a good smoke, but then he enters his dream-land again.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam stirs fitfully in his sleep as his master awakes, but not enough so that he stops his quiet snoring.

[StriderandFerny(#30305)]
Strider sits alert in his chair- the fire is burning brightly, and from the light of this his eyes shine. However, he makes no sign nor movement in response to the stirring of the sleeping hobbits.

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Merry, his sleep fitful after his encounter with the riders in the dark street, turns over as well, muttering something inaudible.
[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
For an instant, Frodo's eyes meet Strider's grey ones. . .but he says nothing, and simply lies back down, burrowing into his nest of blankets once more.

Soon his breathing evens and slows: he is asleep again, but he shifts restlessly, as one whose dreams are troubled.

[StriderandFerny(#30305)]
As dawn begins to break, Strider shifts from his position in the chair and draws the curtains and pushes back the shutter with a clang. From outside, the first grey light of day lazily spills into the room, and a cool breeze drifts through the now open window.

Strider rouses the hobbits from their beds, then, when they are all awake, leads them to their bedrooms. Here, the windows have been forced open, beds are tossed about and bolsters slashed and flung upon the floor, as well, the brown mat was torn to pieces.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Frodo shudders, eyeing the brown mat with a good deal of trepidation - not to mention outright horror - evident in his gaze.

"And to think - "

But he falls silent, allowing the remainder of his sentence to trail off, saying nothing further.

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
"Goodness!" Pippin drops his jaw and stares at the chaos. "What, what... I mean, what if we had slept here?" A terrified to look goes to Merry, then to Frodo.

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Surveying the damage with shock, Merry shakes his head but remains silent apart from a brief mutter of "Well, I never..." He glances at his companions, and then has a close look at the mats on the floor.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam moves around to the bed that was to be his. He looks up at Frodo, "I guess Strider was right. . . " Is all he manages to say, but his wide eyes and pale face speak more than words could.

[StriderandFerny(#30305)]
"I will fetch the landlord," Strider says, then slips from the room to go retrieve said landlord.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Hay, instead of blood, has been spread all over the toom -- who knows what the scene would be like had the hobbits nestled in their beds last night instead of sitting awkwardly in chairs and sleeping uncomfortably upon pallets.

A scene such as Bree has never seen, more than likely. Hay everywhere, the room has been literally destroyed. There is anger in some of the slash marks -- anger at having been deterred...if only for a few days.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam moves over towards Frodo's place and looks grimly at the shredded mat. "Where would we be. . . " He lets his words trail off as he swallows uncomfortably.

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Bending down, Merry plucks a tiny white rag from the floor - part of the sheet under which he or one of his friends should have slept. As he holds it up to his eyes, it is interesting to note that the same shade of white covers both the sheet and the hobbit's face.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Well! I - suppose I shouldn't have needed a haircut."

Frodo's countenance, however, is as wan as his voice in the joking.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"Mister Frodo, sir! Joking at a time like this?" Sam tries to cover his distress but fails miserably. "I'm still not happy about this Strider fellow, but lor bless us, I'm glad he was here last night." He drops the mat on the floor, sending up a spray of hay.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"In a moment, the landlord enters with Strider, aghast at the scene before him. He appears literally exhausted, dark circles puffy under his eyes and quite unkempt in his working clothes. "Why..." Sorrow enters as his eyes register a near-miss unlike any he has ever witnessed.

"Poor, poor Bree..." he pauses, his tired eyes resting on Frodo a minute before flitting to Strider. "I swears! I never shut my eyes all night! And I needed to -- don't doubt it! Never heard a peep!"

Barliman begins to walk slowly around the room, perusing this and that as he goes, shaking his head slowly and dazedly the whole time. "Never in my time!" he says in a hoarse whisper. Raising his hands in horror, he adds, "Guests in MY Pony unable to sleep in their beds... and good bolsters ruined and all! What is this little town coming to?"

[StriderandFerny(#30305)]
"Dark times," says Strider, surveying the damage with a frown, "But for the present you may be left in peace, when you have got rid of us. We will leave at once. Never mind about breakfast: a drink and a bite standing will have to do." And as these words leave his lips, he glances toward the hobbits. "We shall be packed in a few minutes."

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
"A quick bite?" mourns Merry, his face dropping perhaps even further than when he saw the room's destruction.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam looks up at Barliman and Strider as they enter the room. He shakes his head, "at least it was your bolsters and not our bodies!" the answer comes out sourly, especially after Strider announces the change in meal plans.

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
His name may be Took, but the unrest that goes along with that, the lust for adventures, is clearly put back now. Pippin still looks around and shakes his head. If this is the way adventures go in these days... "It's not even daytime, Merry. That should be a pre-breakfast then."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Standing silently apart from the others, Frodo's countenance falls, but he sighs bravely and forces a mild, unshaken expression.

Or at least a pitiful facsimile.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman nods to Strider, and says, "I'll get your rides ready then, and a bite to take, even if you can't eat it just yet!"

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Merry answers his friend quietly. "I have a feeling that this Strider fellow isn't acquainted with more than three meals a day," he says sadly, looking at the Ranger with a long face.

[StriderandFerny(#30305)]
A nod is sent in the direction of Barliman, and Strider steps forward and begins, without a word, to inspect the damage in the room. At the words from the hobbit, he glances up and says in all seriousness, "We eat when we are able."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam looks at the mess of the room and shakes his head. "Ready in a few, my foothair!" He takes his pack and Frodo's while his master is otherwise occupied, and starts collecting the articles that were left in the room the night before: some clothes, a pipe, an odd assortment of personal effects that would give the impression of a group settled for a long stay. "I wonder if Nob could fetch me a good length of rope?" He muses as he folds a torn shirt, his reminder of the deadly riders, and places it in his pack.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Frodo, meanwhile, appears to take for granted that Sam will attend to the matter, and sinks into a nearby chair, still gazing in shock at the wreck of a room before him.

"I. . .suppose it's going to be like that. . .all the way, then? I mean, with meals?"

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman presently returns to the doorway of their room, and his face is none for the better from his little stroll. In fact, if possible he looks worse-for-the-wear.

He interrupts them, if they are talking, though he can hardly be blamed, for he's fussing well before he enters the room. "The ponies have vanished!" he says.

Having caught their attention for sure, he continues, "The stables have been busted up just the same as this, and every one of yer ponies is gone! And not only that -- ever beast in Bree is housed in my stables! Oh, they'll have my neck!"

Again, who can blame the man for a little self-pity? Barley covers his face with his hands and shakes his head in grief.

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
Pippin frowns mightily. "But what about sleep? I mean, we will get regular sleep and... what? You mean we will only have 'three' meals a day, Frodo?"

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
"My ponies?" asks Merry sharply, looking up as the innkeeper returns. "Gone, you say? Where to? There have got to be tracks from the stables, haven't there?" His face has shifted from mournful to anxious - he doesn't fancy walking the unknown number of miles to Rivendell.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam looks up from the bags, "No ponies?" He cries incredulously. He stands up and dusts the hay off. "How shall we travel without the ponies?" he asks looking at the huge pile of supplies that they have already amassed. "And this without any food. . . " He laments.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

Crushed.

There is no other way to describe Frodo's expression as he takes in the news from the landlord.

"Are you quite certain they are all gone?" he asks, without much - if any - hope in his voice.

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
Pippin's eyes widen as he hears another shocking message. "Gone...? But we will have to... walk then," he concludes weakly and all hope seems to have left him.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman's face is downtrodden in the most genuine way. He does not respond verbally as the hobbits express their disbelief and grief at his news.

[StriderandFerny(#30305)]
Strider seats himself in one of the less broken chairs, and appears to be thinking for some time. His grey eyes move from one hobbit to the next, then seems to gaze at them as a whole. Finally, he parts his lips to speak, "Ponies would not help us escape horsemen."

"We should not go much slower on foot," He answers to Pippin, now turning to look briefly out the window, "Not on the roads I mean to take. I was going to walk in any case. It is the food and stores that trouble me. We cannot count on getting anything to eat between here and Rivendell, except what we take with us; and we out to take plenty to spare, for we may be delayed or forced to go round about, far out of the direct way..." He pauses, then seems to weigh up the strength of the hobbits with his eyes, then asks;

"How much are you prepared to carry on your backs?"
[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
A wry look to Strider, then Pippin decides to play the tough Took. "As much as we must," he states, but he does not sound very conviced of it.

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
"As much as I can," replies Merry, slightly more truthfully than Pippin, to whom he whispers with a shudder, "That probably puts it down to only two meals a day."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam glances at Frodo for a moment, and he responds rather quickly: "I can carry enough for two." says he. His voice regains a certain resolution that up until this time had all but faded in the last day. He stands up to his full height and puffs up his chest slightly, making him look almost a bit stronger than before.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

"Can't anything be done, Mr. Butterbur?" asks Frodo. "Can't we get a couple of ponies in the village, or even one just for the baggage? I don't suppose we could hire them, but we might be able to buy them," he adds, doubtfully, anxiety furrowing his fair brow.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"I doubt it, Master." Barliman replies. "As I mentioned, all the Breefolk but a few house their beasts in my stables."

Clearly unhappy, he shakes his head, "They're all gone -- every one of 'em. As for other animals in Bree what are used for draght and what not, they're few and far between and most likely won't be for sale. But I'll send Bob around to find what he can -- we'll get you a pony if there's one to be got!"

As falsely resolute as the others, Barley's fist balls as he assures them of their impending beast of burden and he eyes Strider warily, quieting down.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Yes," says Strider, though he seems reluctant at best. "You had better do that. I'm afraid we shall have to try to get at least one pony, for our stuff. But so much for starting early and slipping away quietly! We might as well have blown a horn to announce our leaving... Part of their plan in all this, it's no doubt."

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
One ray of hope shines in the gloom, however. Brightening up a little, Merry comments, "There is one crumb of comfort, and more than a crumb, I hope - unless the Black Riders scavenged the kitchen. We can have breakfast while we wait - and sit down to it. Let's get hold of Nob!" He smiles cheerily, and rubs his hands together.

"A right proper one too," Sam chimes in at Merry's observation.

[Barliman(#14469)]
At least three hours later, Barliman's Stablehand Bob comes to the Parlour, where the hobbits and Strider wait for news. He speaks, "'Allo, friends! 'Fraid to tell you, but ther's nary an 'orse or a pony in town for sale but one, and that one belongs to one Bill Ferny!"

A sour look upon his face belies his feelings about the man in question, and he adds, "A poor, 'alf-starves creature 'e is, but Ferny won't part with 'im for less than thrice it's worth, if I knows him. Not considering 'ow you're placed, and all."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

"Bill Ferny?"

Frodo sighs.

"Isn't there some trick? Wouldn't the beast bolt back to him with all or stuff, or help in tracking us, or something?"

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman pokes his head in momentarily to listen to the conversation.

[Strider.(#13888)]
"I wonder," responds Strider thoughtfully. "But I cannot imagine any animal running home to him, once it got away. More likely, this is an afterthought of kind Mister Ferny's: just a way of increasing his profits from the affair. The chief danger is that the poor beast is likely at death's door. But we don't have much of a choice. What does he want for it?"

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
At the name of the infamous Bill Ferny, Merry scowls, and mutters under his breath, "Some old nag that'll be, I'll be bound, and no replacement for my good Shire-ponies."

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
"That seems not like a good idea to me," says Pippin thoughtfully. "But better a pony that escapes in the end, than no pony at all, I'd say."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam nods at Pippin's logic, "And who knows? he may end up being a good beast in the end." says Sam, with a hint of hope in his voice.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman pipes up at the question of Strider. "Twelve pennies," says he, a scowl on his face. "I've already bought it for you -- and here's a few more cents to help you along the way." He offers a few coins to Merry.

"A bony, underfed, and dispirited beast, but not ready to die just yet. It'll help you along for a good way, I'll warrant." Barliman gestures to them with a wave of his hand, and says, "Come now -- you've got some miles to cover. The pony's waiting outside with Bob.

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Merry's scowl alleviates somewhat as he takes the money proferred by the innkeeper, and he touches his forehead. "Thank you, Mr. Barliman. Lead on, and let's inspect this bony pony."

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
"Oh, excellent. How very fond of you, Master Barliman!" Pippin seems content now at the thought of having at least a pack horse for their party. Maybe this adventure does not start too bad at all. It could be much worse, could it not? He follows Merry outside.

[Barliman(#14469)]
As they head outside to meet Bob, they step down the few steps, spying the bony pony off to the side with Bob holding its lead. Barliman is met at the door by a group of the southrons -- people whose beasts were housed until very recently in the Innkeeper's stables. He gestures the hobbits toward their new pony, and stands, cross-armed, before the humans, questioning them as to their need for conversation with him right now.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Some of the tension seems to be easing from Frodo's features - the effect of the delay, or the effect of any pony at all, even a pitiful one? Who can say? In any event, he joins the others in gathering around the pony, stroking its thin mane and talking softly, reassuringly, to it in low tones.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Need for conversation? Oh, *I'll* say there's a need for conversation!" spits one of the men. "*Your* stables lost *my* horse last night! I'll have you know that's going to cost you a pretty penny - several, in fact!"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
A tall, bony faced man spies the innkeeper and calls out to the mass of travellers with him. "Ther' 'e is! 'Ey there! What's th' idea o' makin' off with our beasts?" He raises a fist in the air. "Where's my 'orse?!"

[Strider.(#13888)]
"Seems to me I paid good money to stable my horse here last night--and here it's gone and bolted! What d'you have to say about THAT?" Apparently one of the Southrons fancies himself clever.

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
Another of these people, a dark haired rugged man steps over to Barliman and tips on the landlord's shoulder. "What this, eh? Where are our beasts gone? Did you perhaps sell'em? You shall pay me horse, man!"

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Merry walks over to the starved-looking beast and walks around it with a critical eye. "I don't reckon it could carry much more than you, Sam, until we've built it up a bit," he laughs.

A southron with squinting eyes reduced to mere slits in a malicious glare is muttering under his breath, using language that the good folk of Bree would probably prefer to keep off their streets.

[Squinty(#23381)]
The other men from the South grumble and mutter their agreement, and more than one angry finger is pointed at the Innkeeper. "I say man!" they growl, "what kind of house do you run where stabled horses can be stolen with such ease. How are you going to pay for my loss eh?"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam looks at the pony and back to Merry. His words are slow in coming but digs in a pocket and extracts an apple. He offers it to the pony, "Then we should start now." He looks up as the sounds of the arguments with the innkeeper reach his ears. "If it isn't one fire it's another. Poor, mister Barliman." Sam shakes his head.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Yes, well.." Barliman asnwers the lot. "Rest assured I've no desire to keep you here longer than necessary. Are all of you here, by the way? Seems your party's a bit slim?"

The Innkeeper glances furtively toward Strider and the hobbits, then glances back toward the southrons. He adds, "I've housed ye against the Breefolk's wishes, put up that squinter of yours and he's yet to pay -- someone want to go find him and let him know the Master of the House is awaiting his payment?"

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
"...and the food was rubbish as well..." says the muttering Southron in a slightly raised voice, jabbing a finger at Barliman.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"An' I'll expect a fair price for my animal. And, and. Ale. And . . . Food. " The list that the bony man demands gets drowneded by the cries of others.

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
"Bah! You'd rather pay us for our loss, I say," comes the answer from the rugged man.

[Squinty(#23381)]
"Squinter? What?" asks one southron loudly, but a couple of his fellows glare about. With narrowed gazes slipping from each member of the group to the other, it would appear that the party of travellers are one man short.

"Where is the ugly scoundrel?" mutter a couple of them, to which there is no answer. Only one man appears to have any idea, for he suggests, "Well if he isn't here, and neither are our horses... then I smell a rat!"

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
"Hah, he took them horses and went off with them!" The southrons apparently do not trust each other.

The bony nosed man cries, "An' a Theif too! Stealin' our. . ." A sharp elbow sileneces him.

[Strider.(#13888)]
"-I- sure didn't know him. Always thought he was trouble. Looked at me funny, he did."

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
"I smell more than a rat," spits the mutterer. "I smell a rustler."

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Now hold a tick!" answers Barley. "Each one of you!" His voice is commanding, possibly unlike it has been at any time during the stay of any of the current visitors. He balls his fists, and bellows at the Southrons, "The FOOD was outstanding! I had some myself, and was paid plenty of compliments for it. The BEER is the best you've ever had, and not a one of you can deny that. As for your beasts... well, I'm sorry -- and I'll help recover them as best I can, but I'll bet your squinty companion has a bit to do with that. Can't complain about missing horses when you take league with a horse-thief. Come to think of it, I may ought to charge the lot of you for the damage to my house and the loss of their ponies!" he gestures backward, toward the hobbits. "Since it was one of yer own what did it!"

"Now!" he finishes. "Go and ask that rascal Ferny where your friend -- and your horses -- are!"

Some of the mob starts to thin as Barliman commands them. But none leave without much muttering and complaining. "I don't smell no rats!" The bony nosed one whispers to someone standing nearby. The other casts the bony nosed one a dark eye and walks away.

Barliman neighs.

[Squinty(#23381)]
The angry voices descend into a babble of curses and wild accusations, and many fists are shaken in the Squinting absentee's name. "I'll skin him!" promises one, while another southron insists, "Not unless my fingers find his throat first!"

It seems the southerners are outraged by their companion's alleged actions, and as Barliman mentions friendship they protest hotly. "Never a friend of mine!" is a common cry amongst them, alongside, "I didnt like him from the first time I saw him!"

But at this, a third voice asks in a pensive tone, "When exactly was that? I dont remember him joining us..." The sudden hanging of heads and furrowing of brows suggests that they annot either.

Bill_the_Pony
Bill_the_Pony neighs, enjoying the kind of attention he's not received at Ferny's house in many moons.

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Merry nods. "We'd better feed him up now - we don't want to waste our own rations while we're out on the road. In fact, I'd fancy being fed up myself. Any idea about breakfast, Bob?" he asks the stable-hobbit.

[Barliman(#14469)]
The neighing returns Barliman's attention to the task at hand, which is getting the hobbits and Strider out of town. Nob appears, bringing a small basket for each of them, and presents them with their breakfast. the crowd of Breefolk grows, and seems to line the street toward the east, as they have already stated they were headed that way.

Word of the vanishing hobbit has spread, and of the appearance throughout the night of Black Riders in different parts of Bree -- indeed, some of their victims have gathered to try and gain an explanation. The Breefolk know the stables were robbed, and the bedrooms attacked -- words spreads quickly in this town.

[Barliman(#14469)]
The scent of steamed mushrooms, dried meat and fruits, hard bread rolls, and a few other items -- maybe not very breakfast like but yummy all the same -- probably rises from the baskets... Striders minus the mushrooms, of course, and delivered cautiously at the least.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam takes two of the baskets, one for him and one for his master, and looks out along the way, "They aren't leaving." He raises a basket to point at the crowds. His face is lined with concern. "Bob, might you fetch this beast some extra food? I should think he'll starve before we finish loading him."

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
"Breakfast, yeah, what about breakfast? After all we can't go travelling without breakfast," declares Pippin and eyes the stable-hand. But oh, what delicious scent comes from Strider's basket! "Oh, we shall right here? Well, why not."

[Strider.(#13888)]
"No hope leaving in secret now," says Strider, looking at the crowds, and talking as if to himself. "We'll leave by the main road. They might ignore us if we don't look like we're sneaking off."

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Rubbing his hands once more, Merry takes a basket from Nob. "Thank you," he smiles. "You can tell Mr. Barliman that he's more than made up for the ponies."

[Squinty(#23381)]
"What I wants to know," says one rather loud Breelander from the growing crowd, "is why they're still here! Get away with you, troublemakers, and take your black demons with you!"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Frodo groans softly, looking as if he might well wish the ground to open and swallow him whole. His attention in the baskets seems minimal at present, but still, he shows no sign of giving his away.

[Strider.(#13888)]
Strider merely stares levelly at the one that spoke, his expression blank save, perhaps, a faintly uplifted eyebrow. He grunts and begins walking, making a gesture that the others should do likewise.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

Moving into the front to walk with Strider, Frodo hurries to catch up, falling into pace after a few minutes.

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Sniffing the basket with a look of rapture on his face, Merry notices the others trooping off as he looks up and hurries after Frodo. "Come on, Sam! Plenty of time to eat on the march!" he calls over his shoulder.

[Squinty(#23381)]
The jeering fellow opens his mouth to speak again, but under Srider's hard gaze he merely mumbles to himself. His eyes find something else to look at; namely his feet.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam looks up to see the group moving. "Coming mister Merry!" He calls as he finishes loading up. "Friendly like? Homelike?" He recalls the words given as they approached Bree not a few days prior. He reaches over and takes a number of apples from a basket Nod set on the ground next to him. He gives one to the pony and one to his mouth and a large number into his pockets and quickly grabs the beast's reigns and start leading the beast in the odd parade down the street.

Bill_the_Pony chews happily on the proferred apple, following the generous new Master with more bounce in his step then he's had in quite soem while.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"An Apple for walking, and a Pipe for sitting" Sam mumbles between bites, "But I reckon I'll miss them both before too long." He pats the pony on the head and hurries to catch up.

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
"Eat on the march? How very..." Pippin shrugs and trots behind them, not without getting his share of apples though. "An apple a day keeps the healer away," he states and starts munching.

[Barliman(#14469)]
As the group walks through town, it seems tha, amazingly, half the inhabitants of the Breelands have come to see them off -- and not all with good intentions, either. Even as far away as the marketplace, the onlookers continue, heckling the group as they pass by, ushering them southward and eastward, eager to see the conjurer and his ranger leave their previously quiet little town.

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Leaning from a top window, a woman empties a bucket of (hopefully) water into the street, narrowly missing Merry's feet. The hobbit dodges out of the way, alarmed, and hurries closer to Frodo and the Ranger - at least Strider seems to command some respect, to the extent that he has not had a pail emptied on him yet.

[Strider.(#13888)]
Strider seems to be mostly unconcerned with the gathering and hostile crowds. Those that get too close or too loud, he merely stares at until they suddenly take a deep interest in the sky, or the ground.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

The little band of travellers continues toward the south gate, taking no notice of the inquisitive heads peeping out of doors or popping over walls and fences as they pass. But as they draw near to the gate, they approach a dark ill-kept house behind a thick hedge: the last house in the village. . . .

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Behind his piece of the hedge, Ferny stands with a sneering grin watching the parade. He peers at the odd set of travellers with deep set beady eyes. He takes a stubby black pipe from his mouth, letting a thin curl of smoke rise from a toothy grin. He spits on the ground right before the ranger. "Mornin' Longshanks!" He replaces the pipe, "Finally found some company that'll let a rapscallion like you in their midst?"

[Squinty(#23381)]
In one of the windows of the ill-kept house, a glimpse might be caught of a sallow face with sly, slanting eyes. Peering at the hobbits it watches Frodo most closely of all.

[Strider.(#13888)]
Strider nods, but says nothing, and does not look in Ferny's direction, as if the man is entirely inconsequential.

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Bill Ferny's words cause Merry's face to scowl once more, but he takes the example of Strider and ignores him for now

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
At the moment the face peers out, Frodo happens to look up, catching sight of the eyes. He shudders.

[Squinty(#23381)]
And the face vanishes; Frodo's notice of it seeming to chase the watcher away. Perhaps the southrons back in the town would be interested to see that same, Squinting face.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Ferny continues despite not getting a rise from the ranger. "And you, little masters," he says with mock concern, "I suppose you know who this is yer travelling with? That's a stick-in-the-mud, that Strider is! You had best be watching you back, little masters! Never trust a wanderer, if you'll listen to Ferny." He stares at Frodo most directly of all.

"And you Sammie." The words catch Sam's attention, "Yes, I know you." He half laughs half coughs "You best be takin' care of my poor old pony!"

Bill's taunts raise Sam's ire. He looks to the ground and bites his lip, but at the call of "Sammie" he suddenly and with warning he stops dead in his tracks and turns quickly. "And you. Ferny," he says, "put your ugly face out of sight, or it will get hurt." But Sam doesn't wait for compliance and quick as a wink sends an apple directly at Bill Ferny. The fruit finds it's mark and hits Bill squarely on the nose.

Bill grabs his face and drops behind the hedge. A string of curses rise and Sam allows himself a bit of a smirk, "Fast enough to steal our ponies but not fast enough for an apple from Sam's hand!" He retreives another piece of fruit from his pocket and laments, "Waste of a good apple."

[Strider.(#13888)]
Strider leads the party out of the village. Any followers lost interest after the South-gate, but the Ranger's paths have led along the road for some time. They come across a narrow track that leads north, and Strider halts momentarily. "This is where we leave the open and take to cover."

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
"I hope this won't be a short cut," mutters Pippin. "The last short cut through woods we took nearly ended up in desaster."

[Strider.(#13888)]
"You didn't have Strider with you then," says Strider with a grin. "His cuts, short or long, don't go wrong."

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
"So where are we going?" asks Merry, munching on a mushroom from his basket. "And how are we getting there?"

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
Pippin tilts his head and looks very sceptic as he eyes Strider. "And where's that short cut of yours going to lead us? Straight to Rivendell?"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
At this, Frodo shoots Pippin a look, though he refrains from commenting himself, looking instead to Strider.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam lags behind the group, but with the nudges of the pony he pulls himself, and a shouldered pack, up to the rest of the group. He pauses to catch his breath and listen.

[Strider.(#13888)]
"We'll cut as straight as we can across the wildlands, towards Weathertop Hill." Strider continues walking without looking back at the hobbits. "We'll cut off a large loop of the road, but that means we need to travel through the Midgewater Marshes. They've earned their name."

[Pippin_Took(#27059)]
"Ew! Midges!" Pippin makes a face at the thought of stumping through a wet swamp full of mosquitoes.

[MerryBrandybuck(#19430)]
Tossing another mushroom into his mouth, Merry looks apprehensive at the thought of the marshes. "But," he says, "those Black Riders will have a harder job than us with those great horses of theirs. They'll have to swim."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Pip."

Frodo's voice takes on a warning tone, but he looks none too delighted himself at the prospect of anywhere called "Midgewater Marshes." Nonetheless, he continues without further comment until catching up a bit more to Strider, having fallen behind while nibbling at some mushrooms from one of the baskets.

[Strider.(#13888)]
Strider leads the hobbits through winding paths and many turns in the wilderness--not altogether unpleasant, but one that would easily lose a less skilled woodsman. "Bill Ferny will have watched where we left the road, without a doubt," he says. "I doubt he'll follow us himself, though. He knows the lands well enough, but he knows he's no match for me in a wood. It is what he may tell others that I am afraid of. I don't suppose they are far away. If they think we have made for Archet, so much the better."

Knife in the Dark: Scene 4

2005-08-13T17:20:00.000-04:00

================== +SHIRE TIME ==================
RL (Arizona) Time is Sat Aug 13 13:07:38 2005 (+time).
----------------------------------------------------

Parlour
A cheery fire crackles in a stone hearth at the eastern end of this small parlour. A few low and comfortable chairs sit around the fire, covered with a light brown and green checked material. Standing in the centre of the room is a small table with a few chairs set around it, a crisp white cloth laid over the top of it. In the middle of the table rests a large silver handbell, set on a platter in between two tall candlesticks. Someone has lit the candles and they, along with the fire, provide the only light in the parlour at this time. Curtains are drawn over the window to hold back the night.

Contents:
Pippin_Took
Frodo_Baggins
RuggedTraveller
Barliman
MerryBrandybuck (#7464), Healer, Herbalist
Ashnak(#26563)

[#388] Across Middle-earth, Sauron shouts, "A frumpy-headed little midget carelessly branishing my jewelry just informed me that the flash-forward is beginning momentarily. Please feel free to head to the OOC School Theatre to observe Strider showing the Hobbits his trick with the perfectly-shaped carrot. Vibrating rumble-seats have been installed for the occasion!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]

Frodo, Sam and Pippin return back to the parlour. It feels a little gloomy now, because the fire has burned low, and the light is dim. It is also a little chilly, and the three hobbits gather around the fire to see what they can do about it. They puff up the embers into a blaze, and add a couple of logs.

It is as they turn around again they discover that the ranger has followed them.

"Hallo!" says Pippin, his voice kind of high-pitched with surprise.
"Who are you? And what do you want?"

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
The man looks up and not unfriendly is his tone as he says: "I am called Strider. Your friend here may have forgotten it, but he promised to have a talk with me."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Despite the greeting, Sam turns and eyes the man with distrust. He takes a step nearer to Frodo, but says nothing.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"You said I might hear something to my advantage, I believe," Frodo says warily, eyeing the stranger, his tone reserved. "What have you to say?"

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
Strider turns to Frodo now. His face shows no emotion as he answers: "Several things. But of course I have my price for them."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"What do you mean?" asks Frodo sharply.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin edges over towards a chair, not taking his eyes off Strider. The young hobbit says nothing, but sits down quietly, waiting to hear what the rugged Big Person has to say.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"No need to be alarmed." The ranger offers a faint smile for the first time. "It is just that you tell me everything that you know and I will give you some good advice. But - I shall have a reward for that."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Unlike Pippin, Sam does not move from his station next to Frodo. His eyes narrow slightly at the offered price.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"And what will that be, pray?"

Frodo's tone darkens with suspicion, and he pulls himself up to his full height, looking decidedly uncomfortable as he studies the weathered man.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Nothing more than you can afford," replies Strider and his smile increases a little bit, as if he had guessed Frodo's thoughts. "Just this: I want you to take me along with you until I desire to leave you."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin raises his eyebrows in surprise, he watches Frodo intently, as if trying to read his cousin's thoughts.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam starts "Mister Frodo. . . " he stops and only casts a glance at Frodo before returning his vigilant watch of the rascal.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Oh, indeed!"

Indignation fills Frodo's voice - and surprise.

"Even if I *wanted* another companion, I should not agree to any such thing, until I knew a good deal more about you, and your business."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Excellent!" The man looks most content now as he crosses his legs and sits back. "Now you seem to be coming back to your senses again, and that's all to the good. Up to now you have been much too careless! Very well then, I shall tell you what I know and will leave the reward to you. You might be glad to grant it afterwards..."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Go on then!" says Frodo, not without some hint of impatience in his tone. "What do you know?"

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
Strider's expression changes now and he frowns. "I know too much of too many dark things. But for your purpose,..." he gets up and quickly he leaps to the door, opens it briefly, looks outside if noone was eavesdropping and shuts the door quietly. Then he sits down again and continues his tale with a lower voice. "For your business is this: I have quick ears, and though I cannot disappear into thin air, I have hunted many wild and wary things before. And usually I can avoid to be seen, if I want it so. Now, this evening I was behind the hedge on the Road west of Bree, when four hobbits came out of the Downlands. I need not repeat all that they said to old Bombadil or to one another, but one thing interested me. 'Please remeber,' said one hobbit, 'that the name Baggins must not be mentioned I am Mr Underhill id a name must be given.' That interested me so much that I followed them here..."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
When Strider recounts and quotes from their conversation on the way to Bree, Sam's face registers a bit of shock, if only briefly. His eyes dart to Pippin questioningly, but a sudden flash of recognition lights in his eyes. "At the gate. . . " He mutters to himself. A look of anger starts to rise in the gardener: His jaw clenches slightly and his eyes narrow further.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"I slipped over the gate just behind them. Maybe Mr. Baggins has some honest reason for leaving his name behind; but if so, I should advise him and his friends to be more careful," continues Strider and he faces Mr Underhill alias Frodo Baggins.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"I don't see what interest my name has for any one in Bree," says Frodo angrily, "and I have still to learn why it interests you. Mr. Strider may have an honest reason for spying and eavesdropping; but if so, I should advise him to explain it."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
The man laughs. "Well answered! But there is a simple explanation: I was looking for a certain Hobbit called Frodo Baggins. I had learned something about a secret that he was carrying out of the Shire - a secret that interests and concerns me and my friends."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin's eyes dart from Frodo to Strider.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
At this, Frodo rises from the seat he has taken, moving with the haste hobbits have only at great need.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam jumps over to Frodo's side, his frown growing into a full scowl.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Don't mistake me," calls Strider, "More care than you do shall I take of the secret! And care is well needed." He leans forwards and eyes the Hobbits. "Watch each and every shadow! Black horsemen have passed through Bree, on Monday one of them came down the Greenway, another one was reported to follow him later, coming up from the south on the Greenway."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Silence ensues.

At last Frodo turns to Pippin and Sam, his expression one of gloomy resignation.

"I ought to have guessed it from the way the gatekeeper greeted us. And the landlord seems to have heard something. Why did he press us to join the company? And why on earth did we behave so foolishly: we ought to have stayed quiet in here."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"If only I could I would have stopped your going into the common room," declares Strider. "That would have been better. But the innkeeper would not have it, nor carry a message to you."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam watches anxiously. His face is troubled - showing a concern that he tries to gravely hide from those in the room.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Do you think he - " begins Frodo, worry in his countenance.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"No, I don't think any harm of good old Butterbur," replies Strider. "Only he is not very fond of mysterious vagabonds of my sort."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Frodo gives him a puzzled look.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Well," grins the ranger with gleaming eyes, "I do have a very rascally look, don't I? But I hope however that we shall get to know one another better as time goes by. And when we do, I shall ask you what happened at the end of your song. You know, that little prank.."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"It was sheer accident!" interrupts Frodo indignantly.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"I wonder. Accident then... That little accident has made your position dangerous!" Strider faces Frodo, still leaning forward.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Hardly more than it was already. I knew those horsemen were pursuing me; but now at any rate," retorts Frodo, "they seem to have missed me and to have gone away."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Do 'not' count on that!" Strider's eyes suddenly look cold now. "They will certainly return and there are more of them. I know their number, I know these riders," says he with a low, almost threatening voice. "And there are folk in Bree too who are not to be trusted. Bill Ferny for instance, He has an evil name in the Bree-land, and queer folk call at his house. You must have noticed him among the company: a swarthy sneering fellow. He was really close with one of the strangers from the South and they all slipped out together right after your 'accident'. Not all of those Southerners mean well to anyone, ans as to Ferny: he would sell his own mother to anybody or make mischief for amusement!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippins makes himself small in his seat.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam blanches.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"What will Ferny sell, and what has my - accident - got to do with him?" says Frodo, with a rather determined squaring of his small jaw.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"He would sell anything! Including news of course, news of you! An account of your performance in this inn would be most interesting to certain people. And after that they would hardly need to be told your true name. It seems to me that they will hear of it ere this night is over. Is that enough? Do as you like about my reward: you can take me as a guide or leave me. I know all lands between the Shire and the Misty Mountains, for I have wandered them for many years. I am older than I look! And I might proof useful to you. You will have to leave the open road for the horsemen will watch it night and day. You might even be allowed to escape from Bree, but you won't get far. When the sun sets, they will come upon you in the wild, at some dark place where there is no escape! Do you wish them to find you? They are 'terrible'!" The man grows pale, as he tell this.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin fidgets very nervously.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
If it were possible, even more colour drains from Sam's face.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
Strider clenches the arms of his chair with both hands and he looks like physical pain had befallen him. For quite a while he sits like that, as if he was recounting old haunting memories. "There!" He cries out eventually, "Perhaps I know more about these pursuers than you do. You fear them, but you do clearly not fear them enough! You must escape from Bree tomorrow, if you can. Strider can take you out on paths that are seldom trodden, if you want him, that is."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"With your leave", Sam breaks into the long, deadly silence. He clears his throat nervously. Anger rise up to flush his face as he speaks: "Mister Frodo, sir, I'd say no!" Sam rises to his full height and takes a step towards Strider, "This Strider here, he warns and he says take care; and I say yes to that, and let's begin with him." He wags a finger accusingly at the human, "He comes out of the Wild, and I never heard no good of such folk." He nods at his own pronouncement: "He knows something, that's plain, and more than I like to be sure; but it's no reason why we should let him go leading us out into some dark place far from help, as he puts it." He turns to face his trusted companions, and adds with finality. "If I've learned anything this far, everything outside our Shire is dangerous. I won't trust him farther than I can throw him, if you get me. I say no!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin shifts in his seat and looks uncomfortable. He glances at Strider and fidgets. "I think perhaps ..." he holds in and bites his lip.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Frodo considers for a long moment.

"No," he says slowly at last. "I don't agree. I think, I think you are not really as you choose to look. You began to talk to me like the Bree-folk, but your voice has changed. Still Sam seems right in this: I don't see why you should warn us to take care, and yet ask us to take you on trust. Why the disguise? Who are you? What do you really know about - about my busines; and how do you know it?"

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
Strider smiles grimly. "Your lesson in caution has been learned well. But caution is one thing, wavering is another. You will never make it to Rivendell on your own, and your only chance is to trust in me. Make up your minds. I will answer some of your questions if that helps you, but why should you believe my story if you do not trust me already? Still here it is..."

[Barliman(#14469)]
There's a rapping on the door -- a quick-paced, hard rapping. Someone in a hurry, no doubt. But why?

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
It was this rapping that made Strider interrupt his sentence and he watches the door with concern now. His right hand slips to the hilt of his sword.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"I've come to bid you good night, Masters," speaks the Landlord quietly as he quickly enters the parlour. He sets a few candles upon the table, looking behind him and saying, "Nob! Get the water to their rooms." Shutting the door behind him, he steps fully inside, falling silent a moment, perhaps for the first time in the Shirefolks' knowledge of the jolly old man.

"It's like this," Barliman begins, wringing his hands nervously. He hesitates, his brow furrowed, but goes on saying, "If I've caused any harm, I'm sorry indeed! But one thing drives out another, I'm sure you'll admit; and I'm a busy man! But first one thing and then another this week have jogged this old memory, as the saying goes 'round here. And not too late, I hope. You see, I was asked to look out for hobbits of the Shire, and for one by the name of Baggins in particular."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
Just before the landlord had entered the room, Strider had slipped into a dark corner. There he stands now, watching and listening.

[Ashnak(#26563)]
Looking up at the innkeeper with a a slight shrug, Frodo does his best to keep his expression blank. "And what has that got to do with me?" he asks, blinking slowly.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Ah!" Barliman exclaims, a slight smile on his face. "You know best! I won't give you away, but I was told that this Baggins would be going by the name Underhill, and I was given a description that fits you well enough, if I may say so."

[Ashnak(#26563)]
"Indeed!" Frodo interupts, perhaps unwisely. With a small start, he adds, "Let's have it then!"

[Barliman(#14469)]
"'A stout little fellow with red cheeks,'" quotes Barliman solemnly, not daring to crack a smile now.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin chuckles. "Stout with red cheeks indeed," he grins at his cousin.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam looks indignant as Barliman recounts the description. He stands up slightly on his toes, looking no more than half an inch taller.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Putting a finger up, Barliman looks at Pippin sidelong as he continues, "'That won't help you much, Barley; it goes with most Hobbits,' says he. 'But this one's taller than some and fairer than most, and he has a...'"

Pausing ever so slightly, Barley bends down, as if inspecting Frodo's face as he continues quietly, "'...cleft in his chin; perky chap with a bright eye.'"

Standing upright again, Barley adds quickly, "Begging your pardon sir, but he said it... not me."

[Ashnak(#26563)]
"He said it? And who was he" Frodo asks, nearly hopping with eagerness.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Ah! That would be Gandalf, if you know who I mean. A Wizard, some say. But he's a good friend of mine, no matter." Barliman nods, smiling.

He continues, "Ooooh, but now I don't know what he'll have to say to me, if ever I see him again; turn all the ale sour and me into a block of wood, I wouldn't doubt. He seems a bit hasty, he does."

Barliman wrings his hands continuously, nervous at the prospect of fessing up to Gandalf. He says with a sigh, "Still, what's done can't be undone!"

[Ashnak(#26563)]
"Well, what have you done?" is Frodo's reply, as he wrings his hands with impatience as Butterbur's slow delivery of the news.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Yes, where was I?" Barliman asks, snapping his fingers after a pause. "Ah, yes! Old Gandalf. Three months ago, he walked right into my room with nary a knock! 'Barley,' he says. 'I'm off in the morning. Will you do something for me?'"

"'You've only to name it,' I said."

"'I'm in a hurry,' said he. 'and I've no time myself, but I want a message took to the Shire. Have you anyone you can send, and trust to go?'

"'I can find someone,' I said, 'tomorrow, maybe, or the day after.'"

"'Make it tomorrow,' he says, and then he gave me a letter."

Barliman tries to make eye contact with Frodo, saying, "It's addressed plain enough." He takes the letter from his pocket, holding it out toward the hobbit, his hand shaking. He reads the address slowly, puffing up his chest a little as he does so.

"Mr. FRODO BAGGINS, BAG END, HOBBITON, in the SHIRE."

[Ashnak(#26563)]
Looking about the room at the other hobbits, Frodo gasps. "A letter for me from Gandalf!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin blinks in surprise.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam nods, equally surprised but also a bit hopefully.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Ah!" calls Butterbur. "Then your proper name IS Baggins?"

[Ashnak(#26563)]
With a nod, Frodo says, "It is, and you had better give me that letter at once, and explain why you never sent it. That's what you came to tell me, I suppose, though you've taken a long time to come to the point."

[Barliman(#14469)]
With a look of concern on his face, Barley nods, "You're right, Master. And I beg your pardon! And I'm mortal afraid of what Gandalf will say, if harm comes of it. But I didn't keep it back a-purpose! I put it by safe, then I couldn't find nobody willing to go to the Shire the next day, nor the day after."

He frowns, lifting his hands palms up innocently. "None of my own folk were to spare, and then one thing after another drove it out of my mind. I'm a busy man! I'll do what I can to set matters right, and if there's any help I can give, you've only to name it."

"Leaving the letter aside," he continues, "I promised Gandalf no less:

"'Barley,' he says to me. 'This friend of mine from the Shire, he may be coming out this way before long, him and another. He'll be calling himself Underhill. Mind that! But you need ask no questions. And if I'm not with him, he may be in trouble, and he may need help. Do whatever you can for him, and I'll be grateful.'"

"And here you are," Barley adds quietly, eyes downturned. "And Trouble is not far off, seemingly."

[Ashnak(#26563)]
Scowling darkly, Frodo looks at Barliman intently. "What do you mean?"

[Barliman(#14469)]
"These black men," says the landlord quietly. "They're looking for -Baggins- and if they mean you well, I'm a hobbit." A grin, even in such a conversation.

Barliman continues solemnly, "It was on Monday -- all the dogs were yammering and the geese screaming! Uncanny, I called it. Nob,m he came and told me that two Black fellas was as the door to my Pony, asking after a hobbit called Baggins. Nob's hair was stood on end, like a cat's!" He shakes his head, looking between them as he continues.

"I bid the Black Fellows be off, and slammed the door on them; but they've been asking the same questions all the way 'round Bree-hill to Archet, if I hear correctly. And that Ranger, -- Strider Longshanks... He's been asking questions, too. Tried to get by me in here to see you, he did, before you'd even had a bite or sup. Aye, that he did."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"He did in fact!" says Strider suddenly, emerging from the darkness into the light. "And much trouble would have been saved, if you had let him in, Barliman."

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman jumps -- hey may well have bumped his head on the low hobbit ceiling, if he possessed Strider's height. "You!" he cries, pointing a fat forefinger at the Ranger. "You're always popping up where you're not welcommed! What do you want now, bothering poor Master Bagg... Underhill and his friends?"

[Ashnak(#26563)]
"Easy, Master Butterbur, he is here with my leave," Frodo says, one hand outstretched in a placating gesture. "He came here to offer me his help."

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman looks back and forth between them, like the "It' person in Keep-Away. He eyes Strider suspiciously before turning to Frodo with a genuinely caring eye. "Well," he says slowly. "You know your own business, maybe. But if I were in your plight, I'd not be cavorting with Longshanks, nor any of his ranger friends."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Then who would take up with," asks Strider. "A fat confused innkeeper who only remembers his own name because people keep shouting it at him all day long? The Hobbits cannot stay in 'The Pony' forever, neither can they go home. They have a long road to travel, will 'you' go with them and keep the black men off?" He eyes poor Butterbur with a questioning gaze.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barley seems genuinely concerned, but taken aback as well. "Me?!" he asks, surprised. "Leave Bree! I wouldn't do that for any gold!"

Turning back toward Frodo, he asks, "But why can't you stay here quiet for a bit, Mister Underhill? What are all these queer things going on? What are these Black Men after, and where do they come from... I'd really like to know!"

[Ashnak(#26563)]
Apologetically, Frodo answers, "I'm sorry I can't explain it all. I am tired and very worried, and it's a long tale." With this, he gives a tired sigh. "But if you mean to help me, I ought to warn you that you will be in grave danger as long as I am in your house. These Black Riders..." Frodo trails off with a shudder. "I am not sure, but I think, I fear they might come from, from..."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Mordor," Strider interrupts the Hobbit with a low voice. "Aye, from Mordor, Barliman, if that means anything to you..."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin gasps.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam falters as the black word is spoken. He bites his lip and looks nervously at Frodo and Pippin.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman's face is stricken white -- he is fearful, to say the least -- the very name of the home of these Black Riders seems to cause his very knees to knock. "Save us!" he cries, anguish in his face. "That is the worst news that has come to Bree in my time!"

[Ashnak(#26563)]
Nodding slowly, Frodo says, "It is. Are you still willing to help me? To help us?"

[Barliman(#14469)]
Butterbur answers, "That I am -- moreso than ever! Though I don't know what the likes of me can do against... against...." His words failing, the face of a man who does not really know true evil blanches at even his very shallow thoughts of the enemy at hand. He falls silent, looking at his feet sorrowfully.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Against the shadow in the east," adds Strider calmly. "Not much, Barliman, yet every tiny bit helps. You can let Mr Underhill stay here tonight, as Mr Underhill, mind you. And forget that name of Baggins until he is far, far away, right?"

[Barliman(#14469)]
"I'll do that!" Barley says with a bit of resolve, finally. "But they'll find out he's here without help from me, I'm afraid. Too bad Mr. Baggins drew such attention to himself this evening out there..." He says, gesturing in the general direction of the Common Room.

"That story about Mr. Bilbo taking off and all has been heard before today in that Common Room -- even our Nob has been doing his fair share of guesswork -- and he's not the sharpest nail in the box, if you take my meaning. There are others in BRee quicker on the uptake than he, I'll warrant."

[Ashnak(#26563)]
"Well, we can only hope the Riders won't come back yet," says Frodo, shivering with the thought of the Black Riders. He looks to Strider hopefully, then back to the innkeeper.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"I hope not, indeed! But spooks or no spooks, they won't get in my Pony so easy!" In this, at least, Barliman seems confident.

"Don't you worry til the morning -- sleep right. Nob'll say no word. No black man shall pass my doors, while this Innkeeper can stand on his own two! Me and my staff'll keep a lookout tonight; but you had best get some sleep, if you're eye's shut proper."

[Ashnak(#26563)]
"In any case we must be called at damn," Frodo says. "We must get off as early as possible. Breakfast at six-thirty, if you please." He pats his stomach absent mindedly, a small smile at the thought of the next meal.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Right!" exclaims the Innkeeper. "I'll see to the orders. Good night, Mister Baggins.. Underhill!" he says, looking around him as if there were a Black Rider with him even now. "Good night! Now Bless me, but where's your Mister Brandybuck?!"

Peering into the darker corners of the room, Barliman raises a brow, peering at Strider sidelong.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin perks up, "Yes, were is Merry?"

[Ashnak(#26563)]
"I don't know," Frodo days, anxiety quickly turning to worry. "I had completely forgotten about him. I fear he is still out. He said something about going for a breath of air."

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Well, you do want looking after, and no mistake!" Barley says. "Your party might be on a holiday! I must go and block the doors quick, but I'll see that your friend is let in when he comes. In fact, I'll send Nob out to fetch him. Good night to you all!"

Barliman excuses himself, casting a doubtful look upon the ranger and shaking his head as he disappears. After a moment, only his footsteps can be heard heavy onm the wooden floor of the hallway... soon enough, they too are heard no more -- Barli is gone.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Well? When are you going to open that letter?" Strider gives Frodo an impatient look. He also frowns mightily as he learns that Merry is outside alone now.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
The sealed letter is indeed addressed to Frodo. It's reverse is sealed with the symbol of the wizard. Upon opening it, Gandalf's strong but graceful script shows to its authenticity. The letter reads:

THE PRANCING PONY, BREE. Midyear's Day, Shire Year, 1418.

Dear Frodo,

Bad news has reached me here. I must go off at once. You had better leave Bag End soon, and get out of the Shire before the end of July at latest. I will return as soon as I can; and I will follow you, if I find that you are gone. Leave a message for me here, if you pass through Bree. You can trust the landlord (Butterbur). You may meet a friend of mine on the Road: a Man, lean, dark, tall, by some called Strider. He knows our business and will help you. Make for Rivendell. There I hope we may meet again. If I do not come, Elrond will advise you.

Yours in haste,
GANDALF

PS. Do NOT use It again, not far any reason whatever! Do not travel by night!

PPS. Make sure that it is the real Strider. There are many strange men on the roads. His true name is Aragorn.

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

PPPS. I hope Butterbur sends this promptly. A worthy man, but his memory is like a lumber-room: thing wanted always buried. If he forgets, I shall roast him.

Fare Well!

[Ashnak(#26563)]
After Frodo has shown the letter to Pippin and Sam, Frodo says at last, "Really old Butterbur has made a terrible mess of things! He deserves roasting. If I had got this at once, we might all have been safe in Rivendell by now. But what can have happened to Gandalf? He writes as though he were going into great danger."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam eagerly takes the letter and Pippin leans over him impatiently. They all but knock their wooly heads together in their race to read it's contents. Sam, less learned in his letters, mouths them slowly as he studies the paper's contents.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Danger? He's been doing that for many years," says Strider.

[Ashnak(#26563)]
An intense, thoughtful look crosses Frodo's face and he turns to face Strider. "Why didn't you tell me that you were Gandalf's friend at once? It would have saved time."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
Strider eyes Frodo. "Would it really have saved time? Would have believed me till now? I knew nothing of this letter until Barliman brought it. All I knew was I had to persuade you all to trust me without proofs, if I was to help you. Be like it is, I did not want to you all about me at once. I had to study 'your' behaviour first. The enemy has set lots of traps for me before now. But when I had made up my mind I was ready to tell you whatever you asked for. But I must admit," he breaks into a laughter, "I must admit, that I hoped you would take me for own sake. A hunted man grows tired of distrust somtimes and longs for friendship. But there, I daresay the odds are against me.."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"That they are - at first sight anyway," laughs Pippin with sudden relief.
"But handsome is as handsome does, as we say in the Shire; and I daresay we shall all look pretty rough after a few days in hedges and ditches."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam shakes his head resolutely. His eyes are still narrow with distrust: "How do we know you are the Strider that Gandalf speaks about?" he demands. His small hobbit hands curl into two balls and his eyes flash with determination. "You never mentioned Gandalf, till this letter came out. You might be a play-acting spy, for all I can see, trying to get us to go with you. You might have done in the real Strider and took his clothes. What have you to say to that?" He rises up to his full height and stares with defiance directly into Strider's eyes.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"It would take more days, months and years for you to look like Strider," replies the same to Pippin, "And you would certainly die first, unless you are made of sterner stuff than you look like." Than to Samwise says he: "I say that you are a stout fellow. But I am afraid, Sam Gamgee, I can only answer this to you: if I had killed the real Strider, I could easily kill you. And I should have killed you already without much talk if I was after the ring. If I wanted, I could have it - NOW!" He rises and seemingly he is taller now. A fierce light gleams in his eyes and his voice is commanding now, not advising. He throws back his cloak and reveals the sword that had been hidden under the cloth before.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam merely stands there, much smaller than he looked before, with a dumb expression on his face. His mouth hangs wide open, but for all the open space, he barely breaths.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"But fortunately I 'am' the real Strider." The ranger looks down on them and his face softenes into a smile. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And I will save you by life or death if I only can!"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
The pronouncement does little to lighten Sam's stupor.

[Ashnak(#26563)]
There is a long, uncomfortable silent pause, as no one dares to speak. At last, Frodo speaks up, hesitantly. "I believed that you were a friend before the letter came, or at least I wished to. You have frightened me several times this night, but never in the manner that the servants of the Enemy would, or so I imagine. I think one of his spies would, well, seem fairer and feel fouler, if you understand my meaning."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
Strider laughs. "I see. I look foul and feel fair, is that it? 'All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost...'"

[Ashnak(#26563)]
"Did the verses apply to you then? Frodo says excitedly. "I could not make out what they were about. But how did you know that they were in Gandalf's letter, if you have never yet seen it?"

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"That I don't know. But I am Aragorn and those verses go with that name." He draws his sword and look! It is indeed broken one feet below the hilt. "Not much use, Sam, eh? But the day is near when this one shall be forged anew!" He holds the hilt with the rest of the blade on it before his face and looks at it with bright eyes.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam says nothing.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin looks silently at the sword.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Well," says Strider, "With Sam's permission we will call this dispute settled now?"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Strider's question does nothing to raise a response from Sam. His face appears deeply furrowed, though in thought or with fear it is difficult to determine.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin nods and smiles to Strider, and seems quite ready to take up with the ranger.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
The man smiles faintly. "Alright. Strider shall be your guide. We shall have a rough road tomorrow. Even if we should be able to leave Bree unhindered, I doubt that we will slip out unnoticed. But I shall try to get lost as soon as possible. I know a few ways out of Bree-land other than the common road. If we succeed in shaking off the pursuit we will make for Weathertop."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"Weathertop?" Sam finally asks, as if awakening from a deep slumber, "What's that?"

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"A hill," says Strider, "Just to the north of the road, about half way from here to Rivendell. It enables a wide view all around across the lands below it; and there we shall make a chance to look about us. Gandalf will make for that mark if he follows us. Afer Weathertop our journey will become even more dangerous and we shall chose between various dangers." He looks thoughfully now as he tells his plans.

[Ashnak(#26563)]
"When did you last see Gandalf" Frodo asks expectantly. "Do you know where he is, or what he is doing?"

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
Strider's grave look continues. "I don't know. I came west with him in the spring. Often have I kept watch on the borders of the Shire in the last few years, when he was busy elsewhere. He seldom left it unguarded," explains he and reveals that the Shire owns its peaceful slumber during the past years to the vigilance of others. "We last met on the first of May; At Sam Ford down the Brandywine. He told me that his business with you had gone well and that you would set out for Rivendell in the last week of September. So, as I knew he was on your side, I went to journey on my own, and that has proofed ill. For plainly some news reached him and I was not at hand to help." Striders sighs briefly.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin sits quietly and watches while the ranger speaks of such serious matters.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam resumes his thoughtfulness.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"I am troubled for the first time since I have known him," continues the ranger. "We should have heard of him, even if he could not come himself. When I returned, many days ago, I heard the ill news. It was told far and wide that Gandalf was missing and that the horsemen had been seen. The Elvenfolk of Gildor told me this; and later they also told me that you had left your home. But there was no news of you leaving Buckland however. Since then I have been watching the East Road anxiously."

[Ashnak(#26563)]
Frodo looks visibly shaken, clearly troubled by the news. "Do you think the Black Riders have anything to do with it, with Gandalf's absence, I mean?" he says, shivering slightly with the mention of the servants of the Enemy.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"I know of nothing else that could have hindered him," says Strider thoughtfully. "Except the Enemy himself. But do not give up hope! Gandalf is far greater than you Shire-folk can imagine. As a rule you only see his jokes and toys - but this task of ours will be his greatest challenge."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin yawns wide, and stretches sleepily. "I'm sorry, but I am dead tired. Black Riders or not, I will fall asleep right here in this chair if I can't go to bed now."

Then he perks up and looks around, "Oh, but where is that silly fellow, Merry? It would be the last straw if we had to go out looking for him!"

[MerryBrandybuck(#7464)]
A door slams somewhere in the Inn, and the sound of bare feet slapping echoes along the passage. The rhythm of the feet indicates that the person is running. Merry rushes into the room wit Nob in tow. Merry shuts the door quickly, leaning against it and gasping for breath. When he finally has caught his breath, he says, "I have seen them, Frodo! I have seen them! Black Riders!"

[Ashnak(#26563)]
"Black Riders!" gasps Frodo. "Where?"

[MerryBrandybuck(#7464)]
"Here." Mery continues, "In the village. I stayed indoors for an hour. Then as you did not come back, I went out for a stroll. I had come back again and was standing just outside the light of the lamp looking at the stars. Suddenly I shivered and felt that something horrible was creeping near." He trembles again, as if reliving the incident. "There was a sort of /deeper shade/ among the shadows across the road, just beyond the edge of the lamplight. It slid away at once into the dark without a sound. There was no horse." He continues to tremble, but he has caught his breath at last.

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Which way did it go?" Strider casts his question in quickly and sharply.

[MerryBrandybuck(#7464)]
Merry flinches, seeing the stranger for the first time.

[Ashnak(#26563)]
As Merry flinches, Frodo looks to him in answer and says "Go on! This is a friend of Gandalf's. I'll explain later."

[MerryBrandybuck(#7464)]
Merry nods. "It seemed to make off up the Road, eastward," he continues. "I tried to follow. Of course, it vanished almost at once; but I went round the corner and on as far as the last house on the Road."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
Strider looks at Merry with wonder. "You have a stout heart, no doubt. But that was foolish."

[MerryBrandybuck(#7464)]
Merry says, "I don't know. Neither brave nor silly, I think. I could hardly help myself. I seemed to be drawn somehow." He continues as if drawing confidence from that last thought, "Anyway, I went, and suddenly I heard voices by the hedge. One was muttering; and the other was whispering, or hissing. I couldn't hear a word that was said. I did not creep any closer, because I began to tremble all over. Then I felt terrified, and I turned back, and was just going to bolt home, when something came behind me and I... I fell over." He begins to tremble again.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Himself breathless from the run, Nob answers "I found him, sir," he swallows. "Mister Butterbur sent me out with a lantern. I went down to West-gate, and then back up towards South-gate." His hands point out the directions for the benifit of the foreigners, "Just nigh Bill Ferny's house I thought I could see something in the Road. I couldn't swear to it, but it looked to me as if two men was stooping over something . . . lilting it. I gave a shout, but where I got up to the spot there was no signs of them, and only Mr. Brandybuck lying by the roadside. He seemed to be asleep. 'I thought I had fallen into deep water,' he says to me, when I shook him." He shakes his head somberly, "Very queer he was, and as soon as I had roused him, he got up and ran back here like a hare. I followed as fast as I could. Mister Butterbur was watching from the front window, conserned he was, and moved fast to let us in, and just as quick he barred the door again behind us."

Sam looks on as Merry and Nob share their dark details of the events outside. He frowns deeply.

[MerryBrandybuck(#7464)]
Merry nods. "I am afraid that's true," he says, "though I don't know what I said. I had an ugly dream, which I can't remember. I went to pieces. I don't know what came over me."

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"I do." Strider speaks slowly. "T'was the Black Breath. The riders must have left their horses outside and slipped back through the South Gate in secret. Certainly they know all the news now, for they have visited Bill Ferny. And perhaps that Southerner was a spy too... Something might happen in the night, ere we leave Bree."

[MerryBrandybuck(#7464)]
Merry asks, "What will happen? Will they attack the inn?"

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"No I think not," says Strider. "That is not their way. They are not all here yet. In dark and loneliness they are strongest, but they would not attack an inn where there are lights and many people. Not unless they are desperate, not with all the long leagues of Eriador still lying before us. But their power is in terror and some in Bree are already in their clutch as it seems. They will drive these wretches to some evil work: Ferny, and some of the strangers. Maybe the gatekeeper too. They had words with Harry at West-gate on Monday. I was watching them. He was white and shaking when they left him."

[Ashnak(#26563)]
"We seem to have enemies all around us," Frodo says vexedly. "What are we to do?"

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"Stay here, do not go to your rooms," commands Strider. "They have certainly found out which those are. The Hobbit-rooms have windows to the north and lie close to the ground. We will all remain together and bar the window and door in this room, but first Nob and I will go and get your luggage. Come on, Nob, quick!" He opens the door and pushes past Nob.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Nob follows on Strider's heels.

[Ashnak(#26563)]
After Strider has left, Frodo quickly gives Merry an account of all that has transpired since supper. "...So then I sang a short number, which I won't be repeating any time soon..." He attempts to remain quiet and calm, but there is a slight flush to his cheeks. He continues, handing the letter from Gandalf to Merry, still murmuring. "...Strider snuck in ahead of us and offered to be our guide..." Giving Merry a chance to read for several moments, he then coninues. "...and I half expect 'beer-basted roast Butterbur' to be on the menu of the Pony should Gandalf ever hear of it..." As Merry would be ending the note, Frodo finishes with, "...So it's been more or less settled, and we must leave in the morning, or else sooner."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
While Merry is still reading the letter, Strider and Nob return, carrying a significant amount of the hobbit's gear. After Nob posits his armfuls down in the corner of the room, he turns to the rest and reports: "Well Masters," he says with a gleam in his eye, "I've ruffled up the clothes and put in a bolster down the middle of each bed. And I made a nice imitation of your head with a brown woollen mat, Mr. Bag Underhill, sir, if I do say so myself," he adds with a grin quickly followed by a sneeze. "The mat was a bit dusty when I shook it out." adds while rubbing his nose.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin laughs, "Brown and woolly, that would be very life-like!" he grins.
"But what shall happen when they find out they've been fooled?"

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
"We shall see. Let us hope to hold the fort till morning," says Strider and puts his share of Hobbit luggage down on the ground.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"Good night to you," Nob says, his cheerful voice tainted with seriousness. "I'm off to help with the watch for the night." He bows politely before quickly dissappearing through the door into the hallway beyond.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin whistles to himself as he prepares a bed on the floor, he curls up some clothes for a pillow and lays down. Shortly after he is asleep.

[Ashnak(#26563)]
Frodo shuts the window, peering out of it into the clear, cool night. The stars are bright above the town, and the Sickle in particular stands out over Bree-hill's shoulder. With a sigh he closes and bars the heavy inside shutters, then draws the curtains together. He makes his way to his blankets, and settles in, feet towards the hearth.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam follows his master's lead, though he is hesitant to actually enter into slumber. His eyes, despite his best intentions, get heavier and soon refuse to open despite Sam's prodding. A few moments later, he begins to quietly snore.

[Ashnak(#26563)]
The conversation in the room continues for several moments, the talk always drawing inevitably back towards the song Frodo made on top of the table in the common room. Indignantly, Frodo ultimately feigns falling asleep, refusing to answer any further questions, until he starts to snore genuinely.

"Jumped over the Moon! Merry chuckles, climbing into his own blanket. "Very ridiculous of you, Frodo!" But I wish I had been there to see. The worthies of Bree will be discussing it a hundred years hence. Perhaps we'll teach the elves to sing it at Rivendell!"

[RuggedTraveller(#27059)]
Their baggage they had pile on the floor and then the door was blocked with a chair. At last Strider had settled on that chair while the hobbits put their blanket on the ground with their feet towards the hearth. Strider produces a long pipe. "I do hope so," he says to Merry and soon after he can be seen puffing little clouds of smoke into the air.

Knife in the Dark: Scene 3

2005-08-12T17:59:00.000-04:00

Logfile from Elendor at Fri Aug 12 6:01:52 PM Eastern Standard Time 2005
================= +SHIRE TIME =================
RL (Arizona) Time is Fri Aug 12 15:30:36 2005 (+time).
-----------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 7:31 AM on Friday, Blotmath (November) 19, 1435 S.R.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

Common Room
This large and rectangular room serves the purpose of Common Room for the Prancing Pony. Red curtains drape down from large windows that look out to the west and the Great East Road, which runs outside the Inn. There are long tables with bench seats for the patrons in the center of the room. Nestled into the wall is a large fireplace, with several bundles of wood piled next to it. Sheaves of corn decorate the walls in homely fashion, a celebration of harvest's bounty. Overhead, lamps hang down from roof beams, but their light is dim, and half veiled in smoke; as much illumination comes from the logfire crackling in the hearth. The corners of the room are wrapped in shadow.

Pippin_Took (#31419)
Frodo_Baggins
Tolur (#27059)
Barney has arrived.
Barliman
Weathered_Man
Lasselante as Aragorn
Squinty as Ferny?
Ashnak

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin peeks into the Common Room, "Looks very jolly in there," he says to Frodo and Sam. "Lets go in and join them!"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Making his way in, Frodo blinks, his brow furrowing a little as his eyes adjust to the light. "Well, it *does* look rather homey - not unlike the Dragon on a busy night. And I could do with something more to drink, I'm sure; I don't imagine there's a better place to enjoy a good mug of ale this evening."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam follows obediently behind his master into the common room. As his eyes adjust to the smokey room, he becomes suddenly aware of the mix of occupants - stange beyond measure to the ignorant eyes of Samwise. The large room, lit by an equally large fireplace, is filled with various folks that are all enjoying a good evening of song and drink. But for Sam, a look of fear again pains his face and he moves quickly to not loose Frodo. Through the veil of smoke, even Sam's keen eyes were having difficulty decerning all of the various interested congregants that ring the room. "Mister Frodo, sir, I'm thinking I'll take that mug back in that plesant little parlour. . . " Sam whispers to Frodo.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin's eyes twinkle with excitement as he takes in the scene and the merriment. "Where is that Inn Keeper, we need some beer!" he says to his companions.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Oh, no, you don't!" With a laugh Frodo shakes his head. "We're better off staying together. Merry's already out; bad enough our being two places without making it three. It won't be long." He turns to motion Sam on reassuringly as they make their way through the crowd, searching for seats. "Then we'll go back. In just a little while. None the worse for wear."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
At a tables several local hobbits are seated. Some of them look up curiously when the Shire-hobbits enter.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"None worse. " Sam parrots, "I hope so." He says as his eyes continue to scan the room. To the left of the area where they are standing, still some distance from the fire, there is an empty hobbit sized table. "Look, mister Frodo, they've got tables for us!" He whispers as he points.

[Tolur(#27059)]
A group of dwarves sits at a round table near the fireplace and there stands Butterbur too, putting a huge tankard of ale before each dwarf. The eyes of the Khazad light up at this sight and they grunt with pleasure. Tolur Copperhead clicks with his tongue and looks up to the landlord: "Splendid, master! If it tastes half as good as it looks, we'll buy a whole barrel of yer brew!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Hey there, come and join us!" shouts the Bree hobbits. "You must the that party from the Shire. Come over here, there's plenty of room for you!"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Davro_Sandheaver looks up from his mug with a note of surprise as the new hobbits find their way into the room. He issues forth a hearty, "Hullo there!" with a mug held high. He rises from his place at a hobbit-height table and scurries over to greet the newcomers. He sticks his hand out to each in turn, "Welcome to the Bree, and more importantly, to the Prancing Pony!"

[Barney(#19430)]
At the bar sits a man, slumped on a bar stool but still apparently conscious. Some may question how he got up there, seeing as how half of his left leg is made of wood - but then again, Barney the Beggar has great motivation in the presence of alcohol. At the moment he is holding a large tankard and swaying gently, but at the sound of the greetings he swivels around, steadying himself on the bar, and lifts his drink. Bellowing, "Your good 'ealth an' welcome t'Bree!" at the hobbits, the man tips the tankard up and foam slops down his bearded chin.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"And so they do!" Frodo chuckles - but at the call of several Bree hobbits, he hesitates, then looks to the others. "Shall we?" At Davro's arrival, he reaches out to accept the offered hand, shaking it firmly and heartily, responding with a smile. "Hullo! Thank you - we're very pleased to be here!" Rather quickly, he adds, "I am Mr. Underhill, and these are two of my travelling companions. . . ."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin shakes Davro's hand and smiles broadly, "Thank you for your welcome, nice place you got here!"

The young Took waves to the rest of the local crowd and turns to Frodo. "Splendid, cousin!"

[Squinty(#23381)]
A group of vague figures fill the shadows of one corner of the room; for the most part their voices still and their gazes curious. A couple of them are speaking with the local townsfolk and a party of Dwarves, though the conversations seem far from merry and seem quite laden with grave matters. One man in particular appears to be regaling the inn with his views on such weighty things, and squinting eyes he leers with disdain as he speaks.

As the hobbits enter, the strange group of Men in the corner stare at them. Frodo earns a special moment of scrutiny, as does the stout figure of Sam, but after this they seem to find the contents of their tankards more interesting and turn their gazes back to one another.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam is slightly more retisent for introduction. "Hullo, Sam Gamgee." He says, but is greeted nonetheless.

[Barliman(#14469)]
As soon as Barliman spots the Shire Hobbits entering the room, he calls everyone's attention to himself. "Ahhh, good Masters Underhill, Took, Brandybuck.. or was it Gamgee? Ahhh, well any which way -- here they are; visitors from the Shire, and that's a fact! Welcome, hobbits!"

He approaches Mister Underhill, lifting an arm in a welcoming gesture and begins to show him around the room, pointing out various folk as he spies them. He names the various Big folk, pointing, "Thomas Rushlight, Jed Goatleaf -- his cousin must've let you in the gate tonight! Samson Heathertoes, Rowlie Appledore, Master Thistelweool, and Bill Ferny!" Whispering, he adds, "That one's trouble, keep yer distance!"

As he rotates toward the hobbit benches, he smiles, calling, "And now, p'raps some long lost relatives of your own, Master Underhill, for we've Underhills of our own, there. Next to them, Bobo Banks, Brand Brockhouse, Sandy Longholes, 'Handy' Sandheaver, and Tobias Tunnelly." Nudging them in the general direction of the hobbit table, he says, "Make yourselves at home now, and feel free to share any news you may have with the company!"

As if standing that long in one place were physically painful to him, Barliman moves out double-quick, skipping out of the room and back toward the kitchens, sure to return momentarily.

[Weathered_Man(#19389)]
The murmur of pleasant voices, the warmth of the room. By all accounts as pleasant an inn as one could ask for. The crowd, a motley assortment indeed with wayfarers from, it appears, almost every corner of Eriador (and possibly beyond). The barmaids busy, scurrying to fill tankards as they keep watchful eyes upon both customers and the master of the inn.

[Barney(#19430)]
"Don' f'get ol' Barney Wormwood, Barliman!" grins the peg-legged man at the bar. "Pleashed t'make yer 'quaintance." Another glug of ale is quaffed, and the tankard slams on the bar as the man calls for more ale.

[Tolur(#27059)]
The dwarves briefly turn their heads towards the newcomers, but soon they return to their mugs and then they stick their heads together, probably to discuss business.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"One at a time, Davro! You'll talk them nigh half to death before they get a breath!" One of the other hobbits at the table laughs.'.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
A swarthy fellow sits in the corner, half-hidden among the rest of the shady folk. His shifty eyes are focused on the hobbits, and a small smirk touches his lips. He seems to be agreeing with the frequent speaker a good deal, nodding comiseratingly now and then.

"Bill Ferny," he introduces himself to one of the others.

[Weathered_Man(#19389)]
Sitting in a secluded corner, a lean weathered man sips occasionally from a tankard before him. He keeps his cloak drawn close about him, and his hood remains drawn, shadowing his face. By the gleam in his eyes, the hobbit newcomers from the Shire have captured his attention.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam cringes slightly as Barliman introduces them, but he relaxes as each greeting, of an affirming nature, reaches the group. The tension eases from his face and he even manages a simple wave. "Gamgee, mister Barl. . . " He stops as the innkeeper hurries off.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Underhill?"

There is a murmur of half-disbelief from one side of the hobbits' table, and suddenly a clutch of the halflings rise, flocking around Frodo, led by a ladyhobbit.

The prompt cry?

"COUSIN!"

At once they are upon him, with laughter and astonished exclamations of "Goodness, all the way from the Shire!" and "Now, let's see, was your father's great-grandfather's mother related to Pongo Underhill or to Punto Underhill?"

Frodo himself looks too overwhelmed to speak at all, and sits, blinking, stammering attempts at answers for a moment.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Davro beams at the introduction and soon begins to pump them full of questions. "Underhill! Why that's my cousin's name! You must be related! And of the Shire no less! What news have you from the Outside! What's the Shire like this time of year? Do you often . . ."

"One at a time, Davro! You'll talk them nigh half to death before they get a breath!" One of the other hobbits at the table laughs.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin loses no time in taking a seat amoung the friendly Bree hobbits. He soon manages to get his hands on a mug of beer, and listens to the Underhills and their greeting while dipping into the drink.

[Squinty(#23381)]
In the shadowed corners, the Men (and Dwarves also) appear to be mostly discussing distant events, and talking of matters that are becoming increasingly common to those who linger about the group of strangers. It would seem from their chatter that there is trouble away to the South, and so this unsavory bunch have made their journeys up the Greenway.; looking for lands where they might find some peace. The Bree-folk, whilst sympathetic in their words, are plainly not very ready to take a large number of strangers into their little land, and a few say as much.

One Man in particular, the same squint-eyed, ill favoured fellow whose opinions have been the most vocal so far appears to be foretelling that more and more people will be heading north in the near future. "If room isnt found for them," he declares loudly, "theyll find it for themselves. Theyve a right to live, same as other folk."

The local inhabitants do not look much pleased at the prospect, their eyes betraying what their smiles and kind words do not.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Davro turns his attention to Sam and drags him to the table, next to Pippin and bends his ear with questions. Sam looks hopefully to Frodo, but frowns when he sees his master otherwise wholly engaged by his on inquisitors. "Eh? Yes, I'm a gard. . . No, I don't ususally, but I . . . It's nice enough. . . " Sam interrupts the questions as a server goes by, "May I have a mug of beer please?" He asks desperately. He looks over to Pippin, his eyes pleading for help.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
The local hobbits seem to shrug of the Big People's troubles. Perhaps they are thinking that men can't fit into hobbit holes anyway.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

"I - think it was Punto," manages Frodo at last, then promptly accepts the mug of ale pushed into his hands by a "cousin."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh!" squeals the ladyhobbit sitting nearest him. "Then *that* makes you *my* second cousin twice removed on my father's side! We're practically brother and sister!"

"Tell us, then, what about Caraway Underhill? Surely you're related to her as well - no doubt through your great-great-great-great-granduncle's brother's side of the family?" adds another.

"Now, of course, you're welcome to come stay with *family*, you and your party," a third chimes in. "Always room for family in our hole, there is!"

Shaking his head, Frodo attempts to protest. . .but his voice is drowned out by that of his newfound "family."

[Barliman(#14469)]
Presently Barliman returns to the Common Room, and upon hearing the words of the nearby Southron he utters, "Fancy that! And you tell 'em they can rent as many rooms as the Pony has, and buy as much ale as we can serve!" Grinning, the pudgy Innkeeper passes by Sam, offering him the mug he asks for. He begins to pass the hobbit by, but apparently has second thoughts and pauses before Master Gamgee, bending over a touch to address him.

"Now, don't go fretting littel Master! Everyone here's kindly enough, I reckon! Besides -- you take a swig o' that ale and all will be well, I assure you! It's my own family recipe!"

Standing upright now, he looks down upon Sam and crosses his arms with self-satisfaction, awaiting the hobbit's approval.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
Ferny rises to his feet, glancing across at the hobbits. "Oh, that's the truth," he mutters. "Not need for them to make room." His voice is quiet and, while it is technically impossible for a voice to sidle, his seems to be trying.

"There are those as would help them find it."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin node to the hobbit next to him, "Was it Tunnely? I'm Took, Peregrin Took, but just call me Pippin, everybody does! This is good brew... did you get some Sam?"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
The mug offered to Sam is greatfully accepted. " Thank you mister Barliman, sir." He takes a long sip, longer than necessary, but one that keeps Davro quiet for a moment. He finishes at last. "It's very good, mister Barliman, very good indeed! Why it's almost as good as what comes from our own inns back home. Much like the Green Dragon? Eh, Pip?" Sam raises the mug to Barliman and quickly tries to turn his attention to Pippin and away from Davro.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"So what bring you to Bree, Mr Underhill?" asks mr Sandheaver.

[Squinty(#23381)]
Nodding to Ferny and Barliman, and taking a deep draught of his ale, the squint-eyed Southron belches ere continuing. "Help would be repaid by thanks at the least, and gold perhaps once our fingers have the chance to hold some. But whatever the case," he adds, much to the dismay of the more reserved locals who are paying attention, "they're coming, so these parts had better be ready for them."

[Tolur()]
Tolur mutters something about beer prices and then calls for another round of ale. Not before regarding the aforementioned loud man with a fierce look though. His companions grumble something into their beards but then they produce a fiddle and a flute and two of them start playing a merry tune. The others clap their hands to the music and an old grey-bearded fellow sings with his clear tenor, of gold and silver and of the pleasures of ringing the hammer on an anvil.

[Barney(#19430)]
Barney Wormwood's mug is refilled, much to his satisfaction, and he glugs from it for a second. "If y'got better ale'n Barliman's in th'Shire, I shall 'ave to visit dome say!" He says with a wide grin to Sam Gamgee.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
"Aye, well..." Ferny's eyes dart this way and that, and he motions to a seat in the corner. "Some are more ready than ah ... than others."

Have you ever seen someone sidle? I mean, really sidle? Sideways, like a crab? Well, now you have; Ferny sidles with consummate skill toward the table in the corner.

[Squinty(#23381)]
Watching Ferny with a glance from his narrow eyes, the squinting fellow sniffs but says naught.

[Weathered_Man()]
Weathered_Man keeps his attention on the Shire hobbits. Calmly taking puffs from an ornately carved pipe while listening intently to the murmur of conversation about him. The hobbit referred to as Underhill receives most of his scrutiny.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
For an instant, Frodo chokes on his ale. The ensuing pats on the back he receives are legion: half a dozen hands reach to help him thus, nearly knocking the breath out of him. Steadying himself and wiping some spilled ale from his fingers, attempting a murmured series of thank-yous, he composes himself at last.

Must've gone down the wrong way, of course.

"I'm interested in history and geography. In fact, I am thinking of writing a book." A gesture to Pippin and Sam. "My friends and I want to collect information about hobbits living outside the Shire - " Dramatic pause. " - especially in the eastern lands."

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman seems a touch disappointed in the response by Sam, but nods and smiles all the same.

Then, he seems to show a bit more disappointment at the words of the Southron... but he declines comment at this time.

Hearing a tune start up, he turns toward the dwarves, grinning at their music and bobbing is fat head to their tune. "Never a dull moment," he mutters, moving slowly away from Sam toward another group of Bree men.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Tobias Tunnely says to Frodo, "Old Birko here can tell you a lot about that, young man, he knows everthing about ever hobbit around, don't you, Birko?"

"I sure do," replies a white haired old hobbit and looks expectantly at Frodo.

"Hey, there, Mr Underhill, I can tell you all you need to know," says a burly looking hobbit in his sixties. "'Handy' Sandheaver is the name, come to my smial tomorrow, and I will give enough for several chapters!"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"A Book! Oh Excellent. Why we've lots of history that we can share!" Davro starts to recount, but the narrowed eyes of his company cause him to hold his tongue.

Sam looks over at Frodo with a bit of astonishment himself at their supposed purpose. "Writing a book?" He mutters to himself. "Good thing Mister Biblo taught me my letters. . . "

[Barliman(#14469)]
"...beginning with Ole Butterbur here!" calls one of the men nearest Frodo, gesturing toward Barliman as he offers the Innkeeper as a great source of information for the book.

Barliman beams, and nods, thumbing his own chest before pointing toward some other someone as a great bit of knowledge as well.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
Ferny pauses at the table, shifty eyes darting this way and that. "Have a seat, mr..." He looks up.

He seems mildly surprised to find that the squinty man has not followed him, and turns around. He peers at the man, head tilted on one side in a manner reminescent of a particularly suspicious bird.

He sidles back to him, and taps him on the shoulder.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Another long sip of ale is Frodo's first answer. . .he looks positively overwhelmed, though after the ale he nods gratefully.

"Thank you! I'm sure I'll find this all. . .quite useful. Yes. Quite helpful indeed. Thank you."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin Took is drinking deep into his mug, he smiles at Frodo, winks at Sam and seems ready to chat and laugh with everyone.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Davro asks, "Are you gonna write any of this down? I mean, I'm no good with my letters, but this is all valuable information!" He nods emphatically.

[Barney(#19430)]
The pegleg Barney Wormwood burps, and his sniggers are drowned in alcohol. "I could tell you a knit o' bowledge if y'wanted," he says loudly - the intended recipient is Mr. Underhill the hobbit, but everyone around the bar area recieves the information.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"So, tell us some news from the Shire?" says Tobias Tunnely and looks at Sam, "Or a jolly story if you please."

[Squinty(#23381)]
"Oh, I reckon they'll get to like us soon-" begins the squint-eyed man with a leer, but he in interrupted by Ferny's tap upon his shoulder. He turns to give the Bree-man a meaningful glance, and nods lightly before sniffing and replacing his mug upon the counter. "Don't think much of the beer here," he says with a glower, just within earshot of Barliman. "I should have one on the House juding by the taste..."

This said, the Southron turns to follow Bil Ferny, his slitted eyes watching the room for a sign of trouble.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Oh! I keep it all in my head, and make notes last thing at night," offers Frodo quite smoothly in response. "Valuable information indeed, and the most valuable must be committed to memory to be truly well-kept, after all."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam looks over at Pippin and then to Frodo. A strange look crosses his face, and he breaks out into a chuckle. "I have one" he offers. The group around give him a hearty nod and egg him to rise and share it. Sam obliges:

"Why I remember, it must have been close to two years past, one evening in spring down at the Green Dragon, " he iterrupts himself to provide the proper context: "the best ale in all the shire, if I do say so myself. Well, anyways, I was sitting at a side table, likes I always do, with a few of my friends enjoying a healthy mug and sharing news. The place was full, and a few younger fellows were enjoying their ale a little too much, if you understand me.

"Prelfro Bolger, was up on a table dancing and singing, and making a fool of himself, if you ask me. 'Look at him' I says to Ted, 'He's going to fall or worse' And just as I finished speaking, he hops off the table and heads into this big story. I don't rightly recall it all, but he was trying to scare a small group of lasses that were listening to him."

Sam pauses dramatically, his eyes sparkle and his voice drops slightly, "And just when he got to the scary part, " he starts snickering, "this mouse scurred out from somewhere and hopped up on Goldy Goodenough and sent the lass screaming! It raised such a ruckus, that nigh near everyone was up on their feet hooting and hollering about something. And there poor Goldy was spinning and twisting, dancing around like a frog in a frying pan, trying to get this thing off her back. Even poor Rosie," his eyes falter for just a brief moment as he utters her name, "got covered with at least two pints that went flying. 'Quiet as a mouse!' I says, 'That's the loudest mouse I've ever seen!'"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
A roar of laughter burst out from the hobbits gathered around the group from the Shire.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam smiles sheepishly but with a new found comfort. "Just like the Green Dragon!" he says.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman casts a glance back toward Barney, shaking his head and dismissing the man's 'information' with a wave. He mutters, looking all about himself with sweat rolling off his head, "Never rains, but it pours, as pap always said!"

Moving away from the newcoming hobbits, he makes his way toward the southrons -- afterall, they spend the same copper as everyone else -- prepared to serve them a bit more beer.

But as he nears the Squint-eyed fellow and Ferny, he frowns at the words of the foreigner. "Perhaps a bit of water in yer mug, as I hear the southern folk like, good sir?" A mocking bow, and then he passes the two by, headed toward the dwarves once more.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Now you must hear my story!" insists Pippin and leans forward eagerly.

"Last spring there had been so much rain in the western parts of the shire, all the creeks were flooding, and the rain made everything water-logged and heavy, even the Town Hole, where they were giving the big annual spring banquet.

Everyone of importance was there, and the table was laden with food and drinks. At the head of the table Will Whitfoot, the Mayor, presided as usual..."

The young Took smirks as he pauses to drink another swig of his beer.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam starts to snicker as Pippin tells his story.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Putting the mug down again, Pippin continues his tale:

"Unfortunately, a foolish farmhand had just that day decided to sneak away from his chores and see his sweetheart, and so a huge, hungry pig, which was being fattened up for the midsummer feast a few weeks later, escaped from his pen quite unnoticed, and headed for the town looking for adventure..."

[Tolur(#27059)]
The dwarven fiddler plays a little crescendo to outline the point in Sam's story and his companions join the little folk with roaring laughter. Truly this was a good story, just as they like them. "Food," declares Tolur and rests his mug on the table with a bang. "I'm hungry now!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin grins broadly before he goes on:

"And so it happens that the pig trundles into town, squealing and grunting excitedly, while dogs are barking at it, and fine ladies running.

The foolish farmhand, who was having a secret moment with the Mayor's scullery maid, heard the noise and realized he was in deep trouble, so he starts to chase the beast, but the pig had gotten the taste of freedom, and was not in the mood to be seized, so it runs off, heading straight for the Town Hole, where it laboriously begins to climb the sides of the hill it is dug out of, and scampers onto the top of it... "

[Squinty(#23381)]
Grumbling, and sending Barliman's back an especial squint, the opinionated Southerner scowls about. The sound of laughter from the table at which Sam and Pippin sit does not escape his notice, and he digs out an elbow to Ferny's ribs; nodding in the Shirefolk's direction.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Of course the roof was weakened already, from all the rain, and when that fat porker came plodding, it was just too much.

Inside the Town Hole chalk began to drizzle as the roof cracked. People screamed and big chunks of roof fell down and landed among the food on the table, Petunia Pott fainted, and had to be carried out by two stout servants, and the Mayor sits as if frozen with fear and watches the roof bulge menacingly over his head.

They hear the desperate trampling of piggy feet, then the roof collapses onto their heads."

Pippin moves his hands in big waving motions, as if to show how the pig and the roof all came tumbling down on all the hapless hobbits.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

At this, the group shifts along the table to better hear Pippin's tale, leaving Frodo sitting alone in a corner, listening and looking around.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin goes on,

"Then they poured out of the Town Hole, one flabbergasted hobbit after the other. Will Whitfoot himself emerges last of all, as he is by all accounts the fattest hobbit in the Westfarting.

Completely covered with chalk, the poor fellow looks most of all like a flour-dumpling, and that has been his nickname ever since."

With a smile and a wink, Pippin ends his story and has a deep swig from his beer.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam tries to drink from his mug, but is laughing too hard. He wipes a tear from his eye and slaps his knee. "That's the best telling I've heard in some time!"

[Tolur(#27059)]
"Ohohoho!" The dwarves roar again with what is their expression for laughter and the music continues to play, yet without song this time. "Master, we would have something to bite," calls one dwarf towards Butterbur. "What's on the menu tonight?`"

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
Ferny looks up, eyes darting from one hobbit to the other. He takes a suspicious step forwards. "Over here," he says, jerking a thumb at the far corner. "We'll talk."

A backward glance is cast at the hobbits.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
The stories of Sam and Pippin raise a general cheer in the room. Many applaud and some raise their mugs, "Cheers to the Shire Hobbits! More! More!" The call out. "More ale and more stories!" Sam looks over at Pippin and grins, "Should I tell of Bunko Bracegirdle when he found that 'cat'?" He nearly snorts as he asks.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

A keen observer might notice a change in the direction of Frodo's gaze - it now seems to be directed toward a strange-looking weather-beaten man sitting in the shadows near the wall.

[Barney(#19430)]
A roar of laughter comes from Barney Wormwood as he hears of Will Whitfoot's fate, and it echoes around his tankard as he tips the mug for another gulp. "Dour-flumpling, eh?" he asks, still shaking with laughter. "Best story I've 'eard in a while."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"That reminds me of Old Sandheaver and his pig," says a bree hobbit. "That porker escaped as well,it made it down to the market square and toppled over a barrel of apples!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Yes, tell that one, Sam" says Pippin.

"Tell us about Bunko!"

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Roast Mutton!" Barliman answers the dwarves. "And as fine a bite as ever you've tasted, if the word's right! I'll fetch a large plate for each, right away!"

Making away from them again, he heads toward the doorway. Before long, he passes the story-telling and then toward Frodo. As he moves by, he asks the hobbit, "Everything being seen to, Master Underhill?"

[Squinty(#23381)]
The squint-eyed fellow nods to Ferny, his gaze leaving the hobbits' table for only the briefest of moments before he joins the Bill in the corner. "Not on the level are they?" he mutters to the unpopular Bree-lander, keeping his voice low.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

A polite nod. "Yes, thank you - but - who is that?" whispers Frodo curiously, looking up at the innkeeper. "I don't think you introduced him."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam grins and begins the tale. "Well, I wasn't there for the happenings, " Sam admits, "but I was there afterwards. To hear tell of it, Bunko was out for a walk one evening, after enjoying a few mugs at the Green Dragon. Enjoying them, mind you, a little too much. He left and was on his way home when he happened upon this 'cat.'" Sam stops to take a drink of his own mug.

[Barney(#19430)]
Still chuckling to himself, Barney Wormwood takes another gulp of his ale and froth spills down his beard once more. The man slams the tankard down on the bar, and, with absolutely no change in his facial expression, falls sideways off his stool, onto the floor, and starts to snore.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
Ferny glances back at them. "Don't trust 'em," he says, nodding. He lays a finger next to his nose, which is particularly long. "Shifty bastards, to the one. 'Specially that Underhill... if that's really his name. Don't know his great uncle's aunt's cousin's stepfather's great-great-great grandaddy's mom the way he ought to do."

[Tolur(#27059)]
"Yay! That's right, that's good, go for it, good master," says Tolur to the landlord and his comrades agree loudly. The fiddler and the flute player tuck away their instruments and each dwarf produces a large napkin now. A few slurps and their mugs seem to be drained now, ready for a fresh round to go with the meal.

[Squinty(#23381)]
"Underhill?" murmurs a new voice, not too far from Barliman, and a rather tipsy fellow with a rolling eye swivels about to face the Shirefolk. "I've heard that name afore," says he, shuffling forwards a pace or two and spilling much o his pint. "Whereabout were your kin from again? I've been to the Shire a good few times and think I was done a good deal by an Underhill before..."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"Well, this here cat, " Sam wrinkles his nose, " was hard for poor bunko to see. It was dark and all, and the cat was black. Except for this thin stripe of white down his back. Bunko nearly tripped of the poor beast and it made him feel terrible. And rightly so." Sam snickers. "But it wasn't the feel that was his real troubles, if you get my meaning." Sam takes a final gulp from his mug and holds it up, empty, "If I may?" He asks.

[Squinty(#23381)]
Nodding to Ferny, the Southron strokes a crokked finger across his goblin-like features. "Sounds fishy to me, or at least a little odd. You reckon they might be in this business the... THEY told us about?"

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman frowns. Cocking his eye sideways but not turning his head, he answers gruffly, "Him? Can't say as I rightly know. He's one of them wanderers -- rangers as you may hear 'em called. He seldom says a word; not but what he can't tell a rare tale when he gets a mind to! He disappears for a moon, a year, or longer, and then pops up again. Was in and out pretty regular last Spring, but I haven't seen him about lately. What his proper name is, I've never heard, but round here he's known as 'Strider.'"

Barliman casts a look round now, as if he were afraid of what might come if the Ranger overheard him. "Goes about at a fine pace on his long shanks, though he don't tell nobody his cause for such a rush! But there's no accounting for East and West, as we say; meaning the Rangers and the Shire-folk.. begging your pardon, Master." He looks round again, then adds even more quietly, "Funny you should ask about him..."

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
Bill Ferny pulls out a seat, sitting himself down and leaning forward. He taps the table loudly, hoping to attract the bartender's attention. He leans forward and quickly replies in a hissing mutter.

"Best to watch 'em, says I. Better safe than sorry, that's the ticket."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
'Handy' Sandheaver grins at Sam while listening to the story.

"Turns out, Bunko was heading over to his soon-to-be-missus, and was dressed up for the night. But the cat wasn't no cat at all, why to hear tell of it, that skunk sprayed for all he was worth, the whole area, Bunko included, smelled for weeks!" He grins, "And poor Daisy, he still went over to her house to spend a quiet evening, she sent him out to get all right and properly clean! And if that doesn't beat all: He had brought the 'cat' with him, afraid it was going to get hurt!"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

But Frodo is engrossed in listening to Barliman's tale, and does not hear the mention of "his" name - or does not, for some reason, react to it. At once his brow furrows pensively, and he seems eager for the landlord to continue, almost ready to ask more if more is not forthcoming. . . .

[Barliman(#14469)]
Luckily there's more than Barliman serving the guests this evening. Sam and Ferny are seen to soon enough, and plates are taken with fresh mugs to the dwarves.

Presently, just as Barliman is about to go on with Frodo, the table of Breemen call for more ale, and the Innkeeper bustles away from Frodo, leaving his last remark unexplained.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Chuckling and laughter bursts out from the hobbit table. "Good one, Master Samwise!"

[Weathered_Man()]
Weathered_Man is now watching Frodo and Barliman intently as if he has guessed what was being said. After a few moments he sits up a little and with a nod of his head and wave of his hand, he invites Frodo over to his table.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam rises and bows, obviously enjoying a level of comfort that he had thusfar widtheld. "Thank you!" He says with all modesty.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
One of the Mugworths starts to tell a similar story about a Bree hobbit and his encounter on his was home from the Pony.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

A disappointed gaze follows Barliman. . .but as Frodo glances back to the stranger, he discovers the invitation and rises warily, making his way over to the corner, avoiding a few revellers in the process. As he approaches, he slows a bit, almost as a cautious woodland creature testing new ground.

[Squinty(#23381)]
During all this, the squinting man has watched Ferny recieve a pint; and scowls at the offending tankard with envy. "Watch it," he grumbles, "you wantb your eyes clear if we're to spot anything tonight." Though it has to be said that he seems more than a little annoyed that his own hand is empty.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"We want another story, now it's your turn again, Mr Took!" says Mr Tunnely.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam sits down again and takes the mug and a deep drink. "Friendly folk." He comments into his ale. He looks at Pippin and waits to hear his story.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
Ferny glances at the Squinty man's empty place. A crisis... He pauses indecisively and then, as if it is ripped out of his very soul, he grunts, "An' a pint for him, too."

He looks depressed. Two pints cost money.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin is easily persuaded. "All right, I'll tell you another one, this happened some years ago, when my Uncle Bilbo turned eleventy-one. He threw a big party, and all of the Shire was invited. It was a grand happening, with presents for all, and where it snowed food and rained drink. Uncle Bilbo himself was kind of a queer fellow, and had planned a surprise that none of the guest had ever seen the like of!"

[Weathered_Man()]
Weathered_Man draws his hood back to reveal stern careworn features beneath a shaggy head of dark hair. Keen grey eyes watch the hobbit then the antics of his fellow travelers.

"I am called Strider by some. I am most pleased to meet you, Master... Underhill, if old Barliman has your name right?"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

"He did."

Frodo's speech is stiff, and he shifts uncomfortably under the stare of those keen eyes.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Roused by all the encouragement Pippin talks louder and more enthusiastically. He looks around at his audience while he goes on with his story:

"Uncle Bilbo liked to hear his own voice, and this party was no exception, all his guests dreaded the moment, but of course it had to come, uncle would give a speech!"

At this point, Pippin puts down his mug and stands up, pretending to be Bilbo he bows to the crowd and puts on a solemn expression:

"My dear people! begins my uncle. Dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybuck, and Grubbs and Chubbs and Burrowses, and Hornblowers and Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots! ... "

[Squinty(#23381)]
Pleased by the offer it seems, the Southron resumes his vigil of Sam and Pippin; quite missing the conversation between Frodo and Strider it would appear. His nose wrinkles as he tilts his head to listen to the Took's story with a gleaming leer.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam cheers for Pippin as he immitates Bilbo, "Very good, mister Pippin! Sir, it's just like him!" He calls out.

[Tolur(#27059)]
A helping hand serves large plates of roast mutton, cabbage and bread to the dwarves and soon the sound of feasting eaters comes from their corner, occasionally supported by a thunk when a tankard is set back.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
As the pint arrives, Ferny frowns mournfully at it. He pushes it toward the other man, determined to forget about it, and looks up.

As it happens, Strider and Underhill are the first to catch his eye, and he leans forward to peer at them.

Poke. He prods his companion.

[Weathered_Man()]
Weathered_Man nods to Frodo, lowering his voice a little. "Well then, Master Underhill, I would suggest you stop your young friends from talking too much."

He shifts his gaze momentarily towards Sam and Pippin.

"Drink, fire and chance meetings are pleasant enough but, this isn't the Shire. Queer folk there are about, though you may think it odd for me saying as much," giving Frodo a wry smile.

"There have been even stranger folk, travellers, through Bree of late."

[Barliman(#14469)]
One of the Breefolk, Mister Mugwort, sits by listening to all the talk. He seems decent enough, even if a bit sour of the attitude. At several places in each of the stories, he frowns, seeming unlikely to believe. "About as likely as Farmer Timble's cow giving green milk!" he exclaims once, and "There's enough odd going on 'round here without more from these strange hobbits!" he adds at another point.

Sending a good bit of ale down the gullet, he gets a bit more rowdy as time goes by, and seems to be amusing himself a good deal more than anyone else with his 'witty' remarks.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

Frodo says nothing. . .but turns suddenly, his attention apparently caught by the sound of his younger cousin's voice, which grows steadily in volume. At once his lips tighten into a thin line; his bright eyes darken, and his brow furrows in annoyance. Fidgetting, he worries his lower lip slightly with his teeth, swallowing.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin puts in,
"At this one of the Proudfoots shout out to uncle: Proudfeet! But uncle just goes on in his own way: Proudfoots! he repeats. And also my good Sackville-Bagginses that I welcome back to Bag End at last. Today is my eleventy-one birthday! I am eleventy-one today!

There were cheers from the crowd, and hooting on horns and playing of music, and uncle Bilbos voice were almost drowned in the noise. Two cousins, Everard and Melilot even got up on the table and began to dance the springle-ring, when uncle Bilbo grabbed a horn from a lad and blew it to get everyone's attention... "

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Nob! Where've you gone to, lad?! Naaaaahhhhb!?" Barliman's voice again, searching for his most loyal helper. He's standing on a chair, actually, hand over his brow looking.

He gets down soon enough, and finds himself near to Mugwort. "Ahhhhh, Mr Mugwort, I see! I hope yer daughter's healed up well? Gave us all a frightful scare, she did! I hear she's doing right well now... that so?"

Mugwort replies, "Well enough, Barley -- well enough! Thanks to the healers and all the help of you and your people, of course! I didn't think there was that much chicken broth in all of Bree!" he chuckles, and Barley joins him, slapping a knee before moving on.

[Squinty(#23381)]
As Pippin's story grows increasingly specific, the squinting fellow's eyes narrows even fruther (if such a thing is possible). He sends Ferny a meaningful look, and leans forward.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin sticks out his belly to imitate uncle Bilbo, "I have called you all together for a purpose! He declared, and something in the was he said it made everybody listen, as if they had a feeling that something strange and ominous would follow..."

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
Ferny sits in silence, shifty-eyed as always.

[Barliman(#14469)]
A bit away from the story-telling, a Big Folk lady -- evidently not as entranced by Pippin's story as the others, has begun to sing lightly, and several friends of hers begin to dance. It just so happens they are near Ferny and his foreign companion. Laughing and giggling, the ladies make a bit of a ruckus. Mugwort, perhaps wanting to send a message to the Outsiders, heads over toward the ladies and inserts himself into the dance. The girls, a bit surprised, welcome him anyway, and soon he's doing a jig in the midst of them.

A bit drunk, he topples a little here and tumbles a touch there... nearly stumbling into Ferny's table more than once.

Tolur, as well as his comrades is still digging into roast mutton, young cabbage and crispy bread loafs. From time to time a dwarf sits back in his chair to loosen his belt and then goes on feasting. Up to now it looks like these stout fellows could match any hobbit in an eating contest.

[Squinty(#23381)]
Scowling on, and sending the girls a filthy look, the Southron takes up his tankard of beer and scuttles a pace or two away from the fun-loving Breefolk. He shoots Ferny a glare also, one that seems to blame him for the idiocy and unhelpfulness of all Bree-landers, ere leaning towards Pippin anew.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
Furny glances at Mugwort with obvious distaste, nose twitching in outrage. He follows Squinty, shrugging helplessly, and sends Mugwort another dirty glance.

"Them as don't have sense'll show it," he mutters.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Well, what did yer uncle say?" asks Tobias Tunnely and looks at Pippin.

[Weathered_Man(#19389)]
Little escapes the cloaked ranger as his gaze sweeps the room. The antics of Mr. Underhill's companions as well as certain others in the room are swiftly taken in. Brow furrowed, he leans towards Frodo...

[<#19389>]
Weathered_Man +whispers to Frodo_Baggins, "... ... ... ... ... ..., ... quick!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Indeed, for three purposes," continues Pippin in his best imitate uncle Bilbo voice,

"First, to tell you that eleventy-one years is too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. Secondly, to celebrate my birthday, or I should say OUR birthday, for it is of course, also the birthday of my heir and nephew ...."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

But all at once Frodo jumps up and stands on a table, clearing his throat rather loudly.

"I - ah - would like to thank you all for your kindness - and your - magnanimous hospitality tonight. It is a true pleasure to be in Bree, and a joy to renew bonds too long loosed between our homelands, and - perhaps the sharing of lore and legend will bring us together as we have in the past been separated."

If he can sound more confused, it would doubtlessly take very little indeed.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam turns around and flashes Frodo a quizzical look. But as his master starts speaking, he merely joins the rest waiting for Frodo's speech.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Get away, Ferny, you stinker!" Mugwort grimaces and grunts at the Town's mischief-maker, then gets away himself, sensing now may not be a good time to mess wth the well-backed-up Ferny. He goes back to dancing, clapping and turning to the song sung by the Breewoman.

Barliman, failing wholeheartedly to find Nob, turns it up a notch in an effort to get to as many of the guests seen to as possibly. "I'm run right off my feet, this evening!" he mutters, though the sound of coins jingling in his apron pocket brings a smile back to his face and he keeps moving, dropping mugs, lifting mugs, running to and fro the kitchen...

Still though, he's not losing any weight.

As Frodo climbs on the table, Mugwort stops. Barliman stops. Breefolk begin to chuckle and laugh at what they consider to be a beer-drowned hobbit. But still, they listen up.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Some of the local hobbits laughs and claps at Frodo.

Having lost his audience, Pippin resignes to just watching his cousin.

[Squinty(#23381)]
Frowning at Frodo, just as he interrupts Pippin's tale, the squint-eyed Southerner grunts to himself. "Loudmouth," he mutters, and leans in towards Ferny. "That one is either thick as midden or too clever by half."

[Barliman(#14469)]
Mugwort eyes Frodo suspiciously, not liking the amount of attention the Breefol hobbits seem to be taking.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
"And stay away!" Ferny says, scowling at Mugwort and brandishing a clenched fist. He enjoys having backup considerably.

"Yeah, well... I wanted to hear what the other one was saying," Bill complains in a mutter, pointing at Pippin.

[Tolur(#27059)]
"Huh?" The dwarves look up from their feasting as Frodo begins his little speech and they wipe their mouths. Curiously they watch his performance but it looks loke they tend to return to their plates rather than listening to him.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

"And so - " Frodo pinks, though whether from drink or feeling foolish, who can say?, and slips his hands into his pockets, beginning to finger the contents. "We are all very much gratified by the kindness of your reception, and I venture to hope that my brief visit will help to renew the old ties of friendship between the Shire and Bree."

At this point, he hesitates and coughs.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"A song!" shouts one of the hobbits.

"Yes a song! A Song from the Shire!" other hobbits shout.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Yes, a song!" Mugwort chimes in, glad to be catching the Shirefolk off guard.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Come on Master! Sing us something we haven't heard before!"

Tolur burps and the one with the fiddle cleans his hands now before he reaches for his instrument. Songs are always welcome in the halls beneath the Blue Mountains and these travellers could well pause a bit with their feasting.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

For a moment Frodo stands gaping. Then (with a look of some desperation on his face) he begins to sing, in a good voice at that:

"There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin claps his hands to the rhythm.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Something in Frodo's presentation doesn't sit altogether well with Sam, but as the song is started, Sam joins in with the general merriment and hums along, sings a few words that he recalls with his master.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

Frodo continues:

"The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a horned cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.

And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.

[Tolur(#27059)]
The fiddler-dwarf frowns a little and then after listening to two verses or so, he begins to play the tune for Frodo's song.

[Squinty(#23381)]
As the hobbit begins to sing, Squinty risks a glance around the room and sees many of the Inn-folk begin to clap and smile. Wearing a fresh scowl and wrinkling his nose anew the Southron turns back to Bill Ferny. "I reckon we got ourselves a drunken lackwit, and nothing else," he mutters darkly.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

Encouraged, Frodo sings on, grinning merrily:

"The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chased his tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
'The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!'

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Several of the nearby hobbits stomp the beat with their feet.

"And the Sun'll be rising soon!" chimes in Pippin and empties his mug.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

The song now picks up in pace, and Frodo keeps this skillfully.

"So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
'It's after three!' he said.

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam drains the rest of his mug and claps along with the tune. His eyes, however, soon drift around the room, watching with delight as most people have joined in. He pauses for just a moment at a few less than delighted expressions. . .

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
The cheering and clapping grows louder.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

And the the song rises in both volume and pitch, Frodo's voice with it:

With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.

The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Tobias Tunnely hoots at Frodo, "Great song, Master Underhill!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
A roar of clapping and cheering breaks lose. "Well done!"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"Sing it again, master!" Some cry out while others push a mug in Frodo's direction.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Where's old Barley?"
"He ought to hear this!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Let's have it again, Master!" the hobbits shout. "Come now, once more!"

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Yeah! Bob ought to learn his cat the fiddle!" A Breefolk calls.

[Squinty(#23381)]
Nudging an elbow at Ferny, the squinter from the South sniffs. "We're wasting time. This fool can't be the one."

"Then we'd have a dance!" They cheered, "More Ale! Where's Barli?"

[Tolur(#27059)]
"Hah! I've got the fiddle, where's the cat," cries the dwarf and his companions cheer and laugh.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

This time Frodo drinks more eagerly, downing the offered drink and shaking his head in polite refusal a few times before resuming his place on the table and preparing to launch once more into song.

And launch into song he does:

"There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
"I says listen up," Ferny hisses in reply. "He's too drunken an' stupid. Don't trust him." He peers intently at Frodo for a moment. "Plus, that's a suspicious song that is. Could be some kind of code, it could. Watch and see, says I, watch and see. Don't hurt."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Many of the locals hobbit join in on the song this time.

[Squinty(#23381)]
And the Men present join them, the other Breefolk having caught the tune, and their hands begin to clap loudly in time to the song. Many of them murmur the words (which are hardly difficult) as the Common Room follows Frodo's lead.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Those that were crowding Frodo back away to give him room as he dances. A large circle of the little folk forms around the table where Frodo is perched, and clap and dance along to the merry melody.

[Squinty(#23381)]
Snorting, the squinting man looks to Ferny and nealy chokes on his beer. "I reckon yer wrong, but let's wait and see..."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

Frodo continues, in truly ridiculous hobbit-fashion, even beginning to dance upon the table:

"The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a horned cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green."

Frodo picks up the nearest spoons, using them to clap out a matching rhythm.

"And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons."

[Tolur(#27059)]
The dwarves sing along now, fiddle and pipe to the hobbit's song.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

And Frodo continues merrily, his dance beginning to look rather like a frighteningly good imitation of a solo variation on the Springle-Ring.

"The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chased his tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
'The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!'

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin claps and laughs at the sight of Frodo capering about on the table.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam grins from ear to ear and raises his mug high in a cheer, then guzzles from it. He continues to enjoy the song from his master.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman, meanwhile, is conspicuously absent, for the time being. Must be in the Kitchen fetching more ale for Frodo.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

Frodo gestures as if playing a fiddle, adding a pantomime of sorts to his dance.

"So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
'It's after three!' he said.

"They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon."

And Frodo capers merrily up and down the tables, much to the laughter of the onlookers.

"Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Tobias Tunnely taps the table with his fingers and sings along as well as he can: " and danced upon the floor..."

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
"Yeah, well, just a hunch. Don't like him." Ferny peers suspiciously at the capering Frodo.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

By this time, it is clear that Frodo is enjoying himself immeasurably. . .and he continues, voice rising high and clear above the din.

"With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon - "

But as he sings this line, the young hobbit leaps in the air - evidently much too vigorously, for he comes down -

BANG!

- into a tray full of mugs -

- and slips -

and rolls OFF the table with a CRASH, CLATTER and BUMP!

But that is hardly the most shocking part, for the singer simply. . .

DISAPPEARS.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
A gasp is heard, then there is gaping silence.

[Tolur(#27059)]
The fiddle squeaks as the song is most unexpectedly interrupted and the Khazad drop their jaws. "Oi! What was that?" Tolur blinks and rubs his eyes.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam's mouth opens and closes several times, rather like a stunned fish in a glass bowl as he stares blankly at the place where Frodo had just been. He turns wide-eyed to Pippin and repeats the exercise.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Frodo?" bursts out Pippin and stares in disbelief.

"Barliman! GET IN HERE!" The local hobbits begin to clamour!

[Squinty(#23381)]
Taking a sullen sip of his beer, the Squint-eyed Southerner nearly chokes a second time and his eyes grow wide (no small feat for this fellow). He drops his tankard along with his jaw, and cranes his neck to gain a glimpse of the vanished Frodo. Finding none, he looks slowly and meaningfully back towards Bill Ferny.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
Ferny leans forward, narrow eyes wide open. He gasps, drawing breath through crooked teeth. "Wha...?" He leaps to his feet.

"Told you! TOLD you!" he shouts triumphantly, levelling a quivering finger at the space where Frodo isn't.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
Ferny blinks, and seats himself again. He glances around. He shuts up. He looks conspiratorial.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Tobias Tunnely gets up on his feet and moves quickly away from the table with the Shire hobbits.

[Weathered_Man()]
Weathered_Man sits unmoving in his corner, watching in silence and showing nothing of his thoughts.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Most of the other local hobbits draw back from Sam and Pippin as well.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman crashes through the door, setting a tray of mugs down on a nearby table -- it gets attacked rather rapidly, by the by -- and making his way toward whoever may have been yelling for him. "Someone hurt? I certainly hope that Ferny hasn't run out on his bill again!"

Glaring, Barliman begins searching the room.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam tries to disappear as well, though in a much more natural sort, he shrinks down, trying to hide from the dark looks of the others in the room.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

Where Frodo isn't indeed. . .until he appears silently, leaning back against the wall somewhat breathlessly, in the dark corner by Strider. One hand clasps a finger, then draws away and slips into his pocket.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
Bill Ferny endeavors to look injured by Barliman's accusation. He, run out on his bill? He, who has just graciously bought his friend an entire pint of ale with his own money despite not being threatened with a knife like last time?

Never.

[Squinty(#23381)]
Hearing Barliman, and narrowing his eyes once more, Squinty smacks his lips and leans into Ferny. "You're right," he hisses, " though I don't like it. Let's get out of here before anyone takes any notice of the fat innkeeper and marks our faces. You been careless," he adds with disapproval.

[Weathered_Man()]
Weathered_Man gives Frodo a dark look as he reappears at his side but fails to conceal grave concern. In a hushed voice he asks, "Why did you do that? Much worse than anything your friends could have said!"
He lowers his voice further. "You seem to have put your foot in it. Or should I say, your finger."

[Barliman(#14469)]
Mister Mugwort begins to absolutely raise cain. "I've been sayin' for years we shouldn't let these Outsiders in at their whim!" He begins to point at each of the still-visible Shirefolk.

Not to leave anyone out, he turns a full circle, probably injuring the feelings of half the patrons of the Pony this evening.

[Tolur(#27059)]
"Did ye see that? Thunder, how did tha' fellow do that?" The dwarves start a vivid discussion now, not caring for the other guests as it seems.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin finds himself alone in a corner with Sam. He cringes at the suspicious looks they receive from the rest of the room.

"Uh-oh," he mumbles so only Sam can hear it.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

"I don't know what you mean," replies an annoyed voice from Strider's small neighbour. . .but alarm is in Frodo's eyes as they turn to look up at the stranger.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman approaches Mugwort, palms up and out, asking for a moment to find out what happened. "Now hold a moment, there Mugwort!" Barliman calls, lowering his volume long enough to say, "Let's not run out all the beer-drinkers, shall we?"

Smiling, he casts an uncertain smile around the room, apologizing with his mannerisms for Mugwort's behavior.

[Brynjolf(#26334)]
"Sorry, mate. I'll do better next time," Ferny says, rising to his feet. He may not have perfected surreptitiousness, but he has perfected sidling. In a world-class sidling competition, Bill Ferny wins.

And he sidles toward the door, stopping to make sure the Southron is following.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam casts a half-glance at Pippin and nods slightly. His grave features echo Pippin's concern. He remains still, but scans the room desperately for any sign of Frodo.

[Squinty(#23381)]
The squinting fellow is hot on Ferny's heels. A quick glare is thrown towards Pippin, and then Sam, and finally Strider and Frodo ere he slips into the night.

And, unknown to him, another goes with them. Frowning all the while, Harry Goatleaf the gatekeeper rises from a secret stool and hurries after the foreigner and Ferny.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"I saw him, Mr. Butterbur," says Mugwort. "Or leastways I didn't see him, if you take my meaning. He just vanished into thin air, in a manner of speaking. Speaking of That Master Underhill, of course! Knew he was trouble all along!"

"You don't say, Mr. Mugwort!' says the landlord, looking puzzled.

"Yes I do!" replies Mugwort. "And I mean what I say, what's more."

Barley replies, "There's some mistake somewhere. There was far too much of that Mr. Underhill to go vanishing into thin air; or into thick air, as is more likely in this room." He chuckles uneasily, glancing around himself quickly as suddenly-uncomfortable patrons begin to shift and move.

[Weathered_Man()]
Weathered_Man frowns at Frodo as he speaks in a low hushed voice. "Yes. Yes you do. But we had better wait until the uproar has died down. Then, if you please, I would like a quiet word with you, ... Mr. Baggins."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

"What about?"

Frodo ignores the sudden use of his proper name, showing no reaction whatsoever.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Well, where is he now?"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
At the suggetion some of the members of the local hobbits turn their piercing gazes from Sam and Pippin and begin to look around the room.

[Weathered_Man(#19389)]
"A matter of some interest to us both" the ranger answers Frodo, his grey eyes peering into the hobbits. "You may hear something to your advantage."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

"Very well," says Frodo, attempting to feign nonchalance. "I'll talk to you later."

Yet an attempt and success are two different matters indeed.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"How should I know?" Barley answers the voices. "He's welcome to go where he will, so long as he pays in the morning."

A few chuckle at Barley's reply, but most begin sauntering toward the door. Barley looks around himself frantically, and seems to notice Frodo in the corner.

He speaks up, loudly and clearly, "There's Mr. Took, now: he's not vanished!"

"Well, I saw what I saw, and I saw what I didn't," says Mugwort obstinately.

"And I say there's some mistake," he repeats and begins gathering up the broken crockery.

[Tolur(#27059)]
"One could show that trick on a fair in Dunland or in the Shire..." The dwarven thoughts have returned to business as it seems and so these fellows keep mumbling with their heads stuck together. "Aye, but we sha' ask him first how he does it..."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

"Of course there's a mistake!" says Frodo suddenly, coming forward into the firelight. "I haven't vanished. Here I am! I've just been having a few words with Strider in the corner. I crawled away quickly under the tables after I fell; that's all."

[Barliman(#14469)]
The Company as a whole backs away from Frodo, looking rather perturbed. Some shout accusations and challenging questions, but most seem to be eager to just get out. There is what seems to be the beginning of a mass exodus toward the night air.

The hobbits, look on with distrust. An older hobbit, one of the more refined guests, calls to Barliman, "I didn't come for a magic show! Frightening us so!" He tsks loudly and shows his general distain for the Shirefolk as he turns to walk out. The bulk of the rest of the local hobbits follow suit shortly thereafter. Some with sour looks at Frodo and his company, others with sharp words for the innkeeper: all entirely confused and shaken.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman, left with the Shirefolk and Strider only -- though he may not even notice the latter -- approaches Frodo with the broken crockery still in his hands. He doesn't seem TOO upset, though maybe a touch disappointed. The room seems to echo as he speaks, "I reckon this room will be full to the brim again soon enough, lad. Now what have you been all about, Master Underhill?"

He gestures all about, as if hes afraid Frodo won't have noticed the room emptying. "Frightening my guests and breaking up the crocks, doing acrobatics and falling into holes what don't exist!?"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

At once Frodo blushes profusely. "I am very sorry to have caused any trouble. It was quite unintentional, I assure you. A. . .most unfortunate accident."

[Barliman(#14469)]
"All right Mister Underhill," speaks Barliman, a chiding finger wagging before him. "But if you're planning to do any more tumbling, conjuring, magic tricks, somer-saults, out-of-control-springle-wrings, or whatever it was, you'd best warn folk beforehand!"

The Innkeeper sighs, adding with a chuckle, "And warn me, first and foremost, so's I can collect on the bills first! We're a bit suspicious 'round here of anything ... out of the way... uncanny, if you take my meaning; and we don't just take to it all of a sudden!"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

"I shan't be doing anything of the sort again, Mr. Butterbur, I promise you," reassures his guest, looking pinker by the minute now.

"And now I think I'll be getting to bed," he promptly adds. We shall be making an early start. Will you see that our ponies are ready by eight o'clock?"

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman puts his hands together, nodding, "Very good! But before you go, I should like to have a word with you in private, Mister Underhill. Something which was trying to get out earlier is ready now, and I ought to tell you. I hope you'll not take it amiss, but when I've seen to a few things, I'll come along to your room, if you're willing?"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]

"Certainly!" says Frodo. . .but his expression seems to sink, as if his heart does so with it.

Could even old Butterbur's fat face be concealing dark designs?

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Naaaaaaaaahb!" Barliman screams for his helper -- no need to worry about disturbing any of the guests at this point. The Innkeeper begins moving tables and chairs, and looks to have a good deal of work to do to clean up after the enormous crowd which was here just moments before. As the night deepens, the most important man in Bree-town does what he does every night -- he gets ready to do what he does every morning...

Knife in the Dark: Scene 2

2005-08-09T14:56:00.000-04:00

Real time is: 16:24:18 MDT on Sun Aug 08 2005

Knife FF Scene 2: At the Sign of the Prancing Pony

Characters:
Barliman
Strider
Frodo_Baggins
MerryBrandybuck
Black_Stranger
Nob_Riverhole
Black_Rider
Squinty
Pippin_Took
Harry
Maddy
MerryBrandybuck(#13888)
Sam_Gamgee(#25240) also Josiah

The Scene (Ballentine 50th Anniversary Edition pages 207 - 212):

This scene will begin in the Chapter "At the Sign of the Prancing Pony," when the description of Bree ends and the action begins with "It was dark, and white stars were shining..." It will describe the interaction with Harry Goatleaf to begin with, and possibly the trudge past some buildings toward the Prancing Pony. It will flow right on through their firs time in the Parlour, until they split ways with Merry, who goes outside.

From there, we are going to get creative and find a way to accomplish several things in different places within one scene. I'll be asking for input on this soon. But among the things we're going to accomplish are...

Harry is confronted by the Nazgul at the West Gate
Nazgul traipse through Bree, scaring the begeezus out of various people in the market, and on the streets, including Merry (and Bob) near Ferny's house (this last part is, perhaps a touch out of order but I believe it's the best way to handle it. I also believe it's possible we could get Ferny and Squinty in the background of that scene).
Nazgul enter the Pony through windows, attack the hobbits' room, and perhaps run into another couple of people before their official departure from Bree.

*=====-----.....----====* The Scene *=====-----.....----====*

West Gate

A large hedge fences Bree in to the west. Running to and from the hedge is the Great East Road. Set off on the north side of the Road is a small lodge. A faint light emanates from the doorway of the lodge. A great gate is inset where the hedge meets the road. The gate stands closed. To the east, lights from houses on Bree-hill twinkle in the night.

[Harry(#16122)]
In the darkness, the large hedge that surrounds Bree, growing bushily right up to the very road, looms black and tall. A thin chill wind rustles through the leaves, shaking star-shine loose and rearranging shadows. Something small and furry dives into the blackness at the roots of the hedge, and there is a terrified squeak a second later.

But from the gate, a warm and welcoming light shines: a lantern perhaps, or candles from the lodge beyond. Thin vertical stripes of pale yellow pick out rocks and dirt on the road, striping it like a candy. In the distance, the sound of hooves echoes cheerfully on the stony road, growing louder with each minute.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin urges his pony to go a little faster, until it catches up with Merry's animal. "I shall be glad to get to the Inn," he says. "But the gate seems locked, do you think they will open to us?"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam's pony labours up behind Pippin, "I don't like the looks of this." He says doubtfully. He pulls his hat farther down on his head, covering his ears.

[Strider(#32101)]
The foliage along the side of the road is wreathed in eerie darkness to match the hard black vault above the hobbit companions. No sound nor rumour of habitation comes from within the dense undergrowth, but something is there none the less, and it watches the halflings intently.

[MerryBrandybuck(#13888)]
Merry looks up at the gates. "I'm hoping so," he responds to Pippin. "But I don't see anyone to unlock it."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
I expect we'll have to knock." Frodo pulls his pony up, looking rather uncomfortable, uncertainty in his features. "If there's anyone here to come out, that is. . . ." Swallowing nervously, he ventures his pony forward, as if making to do just that: knock upon it hopefully.

[Harry(#16122)]
It's unlikely the gate-keeper is startled by their arrival; unless asleep, he has been hearing the soft ring of the ponies' hooves for some time. But it is a minute before he moves from his chair, and then he jumps up with an air of surprise. Taking the lantern down from its hook, he steps up and peers across the gate at the hobbits. "What do you want?" he asks, almost belligerantly. "And where've you come from? Gates are shut, can't you see?"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam shuffles uncomfortably while he watches the gate. Something behind them catches his ear and he glances over his shoulder intently, fear catching the corner of his eye. He scans the area, but sees nothing.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Taken aback, Frodo promptly backs his pony some few clops away from the gait. The animal seems nearly as startled as its rider, who steadies, sitting up at full height in his saddle at last.

"We are making for the inn here," he announces quite plainly. "We are journeying east and cannot go further tonight."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin reins in his pony. He pats its neck while watching Frodo speak to the gatekeeper.

[Harry(#16122)]
Harry stares dourly at the riders. "Hobbits," he says almost to himself. "Four of them, and what's more, they're out of the Shire by their talk." He grunts and stares harder, then slowly clambers down. The lanternlight all but vanishes, but there is a sound of metal against metal and creaking wood to take its place. And then the gate is shoved slowly open.

[Strider(#32101)]
The darkness seems to close in around the small group of travellers, as if straining to hear the words exchanged between Frodo and the gatekeeper. From within the bushes nearby, the watcher gazes upon the four, silhouettes outlined by the light of the gate window.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
The squeaking sound draws Sam's attention back to the gate. From the top of his pony, he is near in height to the man blocking their way. He looks at the man with distrust.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Looking decidedly relieved, Frodo rides through, shuddering against the darkness. He seems in haste, as if unwilling to give the gatekeeper time to reconsider allowing them entry, and looks back nervously, almost as if checking for anyone behind.

[Harry(#16122)]
The distrust is returned in full measure, along with a spark of greedy interest. "We don't often see Shirefolk riding on the roads at night..." Harry bows with exaggerated courtesy. "You'll pardon me wondering what business takes you this way... what might your names be, might I ask?"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam follows quickly behind Frodo, never letting his eye stray from the gate keeper. Even entering the gates, the fearful look on Sam's face does not fade.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Clip-clop, clip-clop.

Pippin kicks his mount into a quick jog to get it inside the gates.

[TheEveryman(#13888)]
"We're hobbits from Buckland, and we've a fancy to stay at the inn here. I am Mr. Brandybuck. Is that enough? There was a time when Bree-folk were fair-spoken to travellers, or so I'd heard," Merry puts in as he rides past the gatekeeper.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
At this, Frodo hesitates, worrying his lower lip slightly for half a second as he offers a polite nod to serve in lieu of a bow. At once he casts a glare in Merry's direction.

"Our names and our business are our own, and this does *not* seem like a good place to discuss them."

[Harry(#16122)]
"Hmph." The gatekeeper looks calculatingly at Frodo, then, "Your business is your own, no doubt," he says severely. "But it's MY business to be asking questions after nightfall." There is an interruption, and Harry's brown eyes turn towards Merry. "All right, all right," he says grumpily. "I meant no offence." He glowers at them all in turn. "You'll find more folks than Old Harry asking a few questions these days," he adds with a bit of satisfaction. "And if you go to the Pony, you'll find you're not the only guests." He shakes his head slowly, and adds softly. "Queer folk about these days. Well, I hope you have a good night."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam's frown turns into a scowl as he overhears the last comments of the gate keeper. He glances at Frodo, waiting for direction.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"And a good night to you too, sir."

Politely Frodo nods, turning his pony and leading away from the gate. Yet he glances back warily, trepidation in his gaze.

[Harry(#16122)]
Harry stands a little while, watching after the hobbits, and then he shrugs and turns away. The gate scrapes shut, the latches rattle metallically, and he hangs the lantern back on its hook and heads into the lodge.

[Strider(#32101)]
As soon as the gatekeeper's back is turned, a dark figure climbs up over the gate and melts into the shadows of the village street.

[TheEveryman(#13888)]
Merry shakes his head slowly and rides on away from the gate, not apparently concerned enough to continue watching the gatekeeper.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
As the company rides into the Village, soft clippety-clops are heard from the ponies' hoofs. Pippin looks around at the impressive buildings. "They are tall enough, but not very cosy looking!" he comments.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam's eye wanders from one giant structure to another. "Giants" he mutters as he looks at two and three storey buildings. His head hangs slightly while tring to hide his terror-filled eyes with his hat. After a few more paces and more stone houses, Sam leans over to Frodo, "No wondering where those, those, . . ." he pauses fearful to udder the words, "things call home."

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"It's only ordinary Big Folk homes, I expect, Sam. . . ." Yet even Frodo looks uneasy, shifting slightly in his saddle as he peers through the darkness. "Look for the sign. The one Tom Bombadil told us about."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
After some travel, the hobbits finally reach their destination. A bright lamp hanging on the side of a stone archway illumintes the sign that the foursome have been desperately seeking: "The Prancing Pony."

Sam stares up at the inn with its three storeys and many windows, "We surely aren't going to stay here for the night, are we, sir?" Sam exclaims nervously. Just then a large, drunk man stumbles out of the gate and brushes past him. From inside the inn a large chorus of voices are raised in merriment. Despite the friendly sound, it is still than Sam can handle so he pleads "If there are hobbit-folk in these parts, why don't we look for some that would be willing to take us in? It would be more homelike." He offers hopefully.

[Barliman(#14469)]
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 has a front on the Road, 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 lamp and beneath it swings a large signboard: a fat white pony rearing up on its hind legs.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
But Frodo, however, is already swinging down from his pony. At this question, he shrugs.

"What's wrong with the inn? Tom Bombadil recommended it. I expect it's homelike enough inside."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin hops down from his pony and looses the straps that attached his pack to the back of the saddle. He sniffs the air, "Mmm, the food smells promising, and the song sounds nice, I'm sure we'll have as jolly an evening as at any Inn in the Shire!"

[MerryBrandybuck(#13888)]
Merry looks to lack the trepidation of Sam. He dismounts from his pony, apparently listening to the sounds of merriment from inside. "A jolly evening indeed, Pip."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam follows last of all, and begrudgingly climbs off his pony. "Recommended or not, I don't trust it."

[Barliman(#14469)]
..."And a-huntin' we will go, a huntin' we will go! Til the moon's gone over-hill, a huntin' we will go!" The Chorus of voices from the common room, whether they know it or not, includes Big Folk, Little Folk, dwarves, and... others. And a raucous crowd it sounds to be, as well! The crack around the door to the Inn's foyer glows with a warm light, inviting them to enter...

Foyer of the Prancing Pony

The foyer of the Prancing Pony is little more than a small alcove nestled by the entryway. There is a wooden counter in front of the alcove, upon which rests a guest registry book. Behind the counter is a wooden cabinet filled with many nooks for holding things like keys or letters. As for the Pony's entryway, it opens out to the west, toward the Great East Road. A few feet from the entryway and the alcove are two doors which face across from each other. A small passageway leading north into the Pony's interior runs between the two doors, the entryway, and the alcove. Two of the doors, the Entryway and the door into the Common Room are on the western side of the passage, while the third door that leads into the Kitchen is on the eastern side.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Leading their ponies under the arch, the hobbits leave them standing in the yard and climb up the steps, Frodo first. At the top step he hesitates, looking about uncertainly, before venturing forward.

[Barliman(#14469)]
A short fat man in a white apron, sweat dripping off his bald head and his face red with the effort of his job, bustles across the Foyer to his Inn, perhaps a good deal more quickly than one might imagine a man his size could. Carrying a tray high above his head, the man looks to have mugs of ale for at least twenty. A busy man, by all appearances.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin is right behind Frodo, hauling his pack with one hand, looking around curiously.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Unfortunately, Frodo's path takes him directly into this fellow's, causing a near-collision as he nearly bumps into the man. At once Frodo backs up apologetically, nearly tripping over Pippin in the process.

"Excuse me! Can we - "

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam hesistantly walks in, his large pack in his arms in front of him. His wide eyes watch as the humans move through the cramped area. He bites his lip.

[MerryBrandybuck(#13888)]
Merry stands next to Pippin, also looking about, but more expectantly than curiously; at this point he seems content to let Frodo do the talking.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Half a moment, if you can!" Barliman shouts over his shoulder, shoving the door into the Main Room open. He vanishes into the din of the Company -- a cloud of smoke escapes into the foyer, bringing a bittersweet mixture of the scents of all forms of the leaf to the noses of the newcomers.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Ouch!" mutters Pippin and pushes Frodo away from his toes.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"Old Toby!" Sam whispers after taking a good sniff of the cloud. "This far from home?" He asks incredulously to no one in particular.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
The push sets Frodo - pack shouldered - off balance, and he teeters, nearly falling. Turning, he glares at his younger cousin.

"Really, Pip! You *could* give someone a moment! It was an accident."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"But it was my sore toe!" complains Pippin and points down to his furry feet, wiggling one toe and holding it up so they all can see.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Presently, the heavy door to the Common Room opens again, another poof of smoke fogging the room. Escorting the smoke, and at a good clip slower this time through, is the plump Innkeeper. Huffing and puffing, he stops fairly close to them... whether because he wants to see to them or because they are standing in his path is yet unclear.

Peering down at them in silence a moment, watching the (hopefully) end of their brief quarrel, the man chuckles, "Good evening, little Masters!" Stooping down a bit, he looks over a pair of spectacles as he asks, "What may you be wanting?"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"*All* of your toes are always sore, to hear you complain!"

But at the man's return, Frodo promptly turns, drawing himself up to his full height once more - at least, as best he can.

"Beds for four, and stabling for five ponies, if that can be managed. Are you Mr. Butterbur?"

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Right you are! I'm Barliman, and Barliman is me! At your service, little Masters! From the Shire are we?" The jolly Innkeeper, huffing and puffing, pauses a moment, slapping his own forehead and looking toward the ceiling.

Hobbits!" he cries. "That's got something inside trying to get out!" A grin, then he adds, "Might I ask your names, good sir?"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Mr. Took and Mr. Brandybuck," replies Frodo quickly, allowing his cousins no chance to answer for themselves, "and this is Sam Gamgee. My name is Underhill."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam nods as he is introduced, but he says nothing.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"There now, it's gone again!" Barliman snaps in frustration, but flashes a winning smile all the same. "It'll come back though, rest assured! Just give me a bit to think! I'm run right off my feet; but I'll see what I can do for you. Not often we get a party from the Shire these days, and I should be sorry not to make you and yours feel quite at home!"

Barliman pauses, shaking his head and pursing his lips as if what he's about to say is a bad thing. "But there's such a crowd already in the house tonight as there hasn't been for far too long! It never rains but it pours, as we say in Bree."

"Hey there! Nob!" Barliman shouts suddenly. "Where have you gotten to, you wooly-footed slowcoach! Naaaaaaahhhb!"

[MerryBrandybuck(#13888)]
Merry offers a quick little bow as his name is mentioned, grinning as if enjoying a private joke of some sort or another.

[Nob_Riverhole(#31063)]
"Coming, sir! Coming!" Nob trots out of the door, grinning broadly. Nearing the other hobbits, he draws up shortly, his mouth forming a silent 'o'. He stares at them intently.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Well now, where's your cousin Bob?" Barliman asks the hobbit abruptly.

Sam is equally surprised to see someone of his own stature in this land of giants. He sizes up Nob silently.

[Nob_Riverhole(#31063)]
Nob shakes out of his amazement and shrugs, still smiling. "I haven't seen him all night, sir."

[Barliman(#14469)]
"What do you mean you haven't seen him? Find him! And double-sharp!" Barliman scoffs. "I haven't got six legs, nor six eyes! Tell Bob there's five ponies what needs a stable and a feed. Tell him he must find room somehow!"

[Nob_Riverhole(#31063)]
Nob jogs off, pausing just long enough to grin and wink at Sam.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Well now, what was I going to say?" asks Butterbur, turning back toward the hobbits and tapping his head. "One thought drives out another, as my pap always said. I'm that busy tonight: my head is going round! There's a party what came up the Greenway -- the North Road, that is -- from away South last night. That was strange enough to begin with! Then a travelling company of the dwarves come in headed west... just happened by this evening. And now, you."

He pauses, but only briefly. Smiling again, he offers, "If you weren't hobbits, I doubt seriously I could house you. But I've a room or two on the North wing that were made special for hobbits when the Pony was built." That winning smile flashes again, though it doesn't prevent his babbling from continuing.

"On the ground floor as they usually prefer; round windows and all as they tend to like it. You'll be wanting supper, I'll warrant. As soon as may be! This way now!"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Frodo follows along, nodding eagerly at the suggestion that he and the others might be interested in supper. In the face of such loquacity, he seems utterly speechless.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman hustles down a short passage, opening a door.

Prancing Pony Private Parlour

A cheery fire crackles in a stone hearth at the eastern end of this small parlour. A few low and comfortable chairs sit around the fire, covered with a light brown and green checked material. Standing in the centre of the room is a small table with a few chairs set around it, a crisp white cloth laid over the top of it. In the middle of the table rests a large silver handbell, set on a platter in between two tall candlesticks. Heavy curtains are pulled across the long window on the northern wall of the parlour.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"This is splendid!" exclaims Pippin and drops his pack right inside the door. "Now we just need dinner!" He hurries to occupy the best seat in front of the fire.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Here is a nice little parlour!" Barley quips. "I hope it will suit. You'l have to excuse me now -- I'm that busy! No time for talking; I must be trotting." He grins, backing up as he speaks and leaving the Parlour door open for them to enter at their will.

"Hard work for two legs," he continues, "But I'm getting no thinner, believe it or not!" He pats his ample tummy, promising, "I'll check in later. If you are wont for anything, ring the hand-bell and Nob will come running!"

He turns to leave, but offers in a stage-whisper before he goes, "If he doesn't come, Ring and SHOUT!"

With a twirl, the Innkeeper is gone.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
At once Frodo sinks into a seat near the fire as well, looking thoroughly winded.

"Well!"

He says nothing more, simply shaking his head.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam quickly avoids the whirlwind innkeeper and gives his assessment as he steps in: "Not home, but a bit more so than the roots" He too sets his pack down and finds a chair near the fire. His eyes blink a bit slowly, but he shakes himself quickly.

[MerryBrandybuck(#13888)]
Merry also assumes a seat near the fire after setting his pack down, kicking his feet back and veritably exuding an air of relaxation.

[Nob_Riverhole(#31063)]
Entering the room quickly, Nob balances a tray loaded with plates and a couple of candles. He begins to deftly set the plates on the table. He wipes off a smear with his shirt and clucks.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
As Nob enters, Sam stirs. The tray catches his attention and he rises from his seat. "What have we here?" He says, noticing a set of freshly filled mugs. He takes one near him and nods graciously to Nob. Mug in hand, Sam moves over to the round window and looks out into the inky blackness. The dark causes him to shudder and he quickly returns to the fire and his companions.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"I suppose we should wash," says Pippin and hops up. He walks over the the wash basin in the corner and splashes some water in his face.

"There! Now I'm ready to eat!"

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Pippin!"

With a sigh, Frodo shakes his head and goes to wash up, taking considerably more time and interest than the younger hobbit, before returning to join the others.

"There now. I feel almost myself again."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"Wash?" Sam asks forgetting himself. He wanders over to a mirror near the basin and grimaces at his reflection. "That I should." He sets the mug down on a small shelf near the basin and washes his hands and face thoroughy. Shortly he resumes drinking from the mug.

[Nob_Riverhole(#31063)]
Nob quickly delivers the dark beer to the other hobbit's places, with a smile and nod for each as he does so. "Will you be needing anything else, or shall I show you the bedrooms, while your supper gets ready?"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
I don't need to see the bedrooms," says Pippin cheerfully and has one of the mugs. "I'm sure they are all fine! This is a good brew... Very good!"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam nods in agreement, the thick foam giving him a thin mustache.

[MerryBrandybuck(#13888)]
Merry resumes his seat and graciously accepts his beer. "I can't think of anything we should be needing." He proceeds to take a deep pull from the beer. "Finest I've had in days." The grin on his face suggests that this is supposed to be funny.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"I'm sure they're quite all right. Thank you, Nob." Nodding, Frodo takes a long sip of beer, settling back into his chair. . .and stifling a laugh at Merry's final comment.

[Nob_Riverhole(#31063)]
"Aye, sir. You won't be finding better in Bree, I tell you," Nob replies, before bobbing his head again, this time to Frodo. "I be getting on getting your food ready." He slips out the door.

[Barliman(#14469)]
The Parlour door opens once more. The Innkeeper and Nob re-enter, both fully laden with the settings for the table and plenty of fare for their consumption.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Half a mug happier, Sam watches as the inn keeper and his servant set the table. For the first time in days, a small flicker of a smile makes it to his face as he surveys the fare. "Now, I think it's much more home-like" he adds.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman smiles at the hobbits as he sets their places at the table, setting his silver service for four. He motions to various dishes, directing Nob to place at the table, as he names them:

Hot Dumplins and soup, chilled roast, blackberry tarts, fresh bread and butter, a block of ripe cheese!"

Barliman grins, winking at Sam's comment.

[Nob_Riverhole(#31063)]
As Barliman calls them out, Nob nods, and places each on the table.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
At this, Frodo looks toward the table with interest, seeming finally to wake up a bit - whether revived by the beer or the mention of food, though, 'tis difficult to say.

"Thank you - this looks splendid. Just like home."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
With a loud scraping sound, Pippin pulls his chair up to the table and gets ready to dig in. He helps himself to a generous amount of everything, and gets started on the soup, slurping noisily.

"I say this is very good, plain and homelike!"

[MerryBrandybuck(#13888)]
"I told you, Pip. Just like home." Merry sits down at the table with a hungry look in his eye, and with the careful discretion of someone who is very hungry fills his plate with everything available.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Frodo clears his throat, pausing as he moves to the table to place a firm hand on Pippin's shoulder for a moment before taking his own seat, beginning to fill his plate neatly.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Barliman stands quietly against a wall for a moment, watching to make sure they have everything they need. After a moment, he offers quietly, "I don't know whether you would care to join the Company, when you've supped. Perhaps you would rather get to sleep. Still, the company would be pleased to welcome you, if you have a mind. We don't get Outsiders -- travellers from the Shire, I mean (begging your pardon!)..."

Barliman's ears blush and he smiles, continuing. "...often.. We'd like to hear a bit of news, or any story or song you may have in mind. But, only as you please! Please ring the bell, if you lack anything!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin happily ignores Frodo and carves a huge slice of blackberry tart which he moves it onto his plate. He then proceeds to try and get a forkfull of the stuff safely into his mouth, but a drop of it drips down on his fine, white shirt,

"Oh, bummer," he mutters and grabs a napkin to wipe off the mess.

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam eagerly fills his plate so much like a large heap. He takes up a fork and so much so starts digging in. He looks up at Barliman, his face covered in gravy and bread bits and nods politely, but keeps his attention otherwise focused on his fare. "Thank you, Now this pays up for all!" He says happily.

[Nob_Riverhole(#31063)]
"We don't get a chance to be helping the immigrants very much, so it's a pleasure." With that, Nob slips out of the room.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Well said, Master... Gamwise? Indeed!" Barliman offers a slight bow before heading out of the room backwards.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Stifling something between a laugh and a groan, Frodo shakes his head.

"Now, how could I have seen that coming? If Eglantine Took were here, she'd have your head on a silver platter!"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam hears Frodo's comment and only casts one wary eye at Pippin. He tsks and resumes eating.

[MerryBrandybuck(#13888)]
Merry smiles happily. "Pippin, unlike the rest of us, has not mastered the fine art of eating." As if making a point, he takes a generous mouthful of soup, which spills but manages to land on his napkin--clearly, the hobbit is an artist.

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
Pippin daps the napkin in some water and tries to rub off the stain.

"She'd say I'm too greedy, which isn't true at all!" he says.
"It's natural to be hungry after such an adventure as we had."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
"Messy is more like it." Sam says half-aloud. He rises, and moves to fill an empty plate with a second helping.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"You *do* need to slow down, however," points out Frodo, neatly cutting a bite of his own portion of blackberry tart. "The food isn't going to run from you, I assure you. It won't flee your plate, though I've no doubt it would if it had any feeling! Now slow down, or I shall be embarrassed to be seen with you."

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"Very well then," says Pippin and turn to Frodo:

"Would you kindly pass the butter, please?"

[MerryBrandybuck(#13888)]
"Honestly," says Merry, looking at Pippin, wiping his mouth to keep food from spilling out. "We're guests here. Act dignified." He swallows noisily and quaffs more beer.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
"Certainly, Pip."

And Frodo passes the butter. . .but not before casting Merry a *Look.*

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
They all eat in silence for a long time.

"There," says Pippin and loosens his belt to leave more room for his tummy. His shirt is spotted by blackberry, and the table in front of him is a mess of crumbs, used cutlery and dirty dishes. "All I need now is some more beer and some merry company. Anyone want to join the crowd?"

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam looks up at Pippin and furrows his brow, "Not while there's still food on this table!" He digs into his plate with relish.

[Frodo_Baggins(#10267)]
Finishing at last, Frodo nods, rising.

"I could do with a bit of company and conversation myself. What do you say, Sam? Come on; no doubt we can have another mug and perhaps hear some news - maybe even of Gandalf, or something important. At worst, we'll have a comfortable evening of it."

[Sam_Gamgee(#25240)]
Sam conceeds at the prospect of a fresh mug. "That will do, mister Frodo, sir."

[MerryBrandybuck(#13888)]
Merry looks around. "Not I, for one. It will be too stuffy in there for me. I shall sit here quietly by the fire for a bit, and perhaps go out later for a sniff of air. Mind your Ps and Qs, and don't forget that you are supposed to be escaping in secret, and are still on the high-road and not very far from the Shire!"

[Pippin_Took(#31419)]
"All right!" says Pippin. "Mind yourself! Don't get lost, and don't forget that it is safer indoors!"

--END OF SCENE--

--NUMEROUS SCENES OF NAZGUL SCARING PEOPLE ARE MISSING FROM HERE. IF YOU HAVE THEM, PLEASE +MAIL/EMAIL ME--

Smials

[Barliman(#14469)]
Near the main Human residential area of Bree, there is a small settlement of Hobbits who cared not for Staddle. Favoring the City Life, they grabbed up what plots of land they could so many years ago and have entrenched themselves in the lives of the Bree-proper familes.

Among them, the Leafturners, originally of the Shire. And outside their fair smial, the patron of the family... the one who moved them to Bree in the first place -- Crispin.

Age-old and wrinkled now, the gentlehobbit has truly aged gracefully; being in his hundred-and-tweens now, he is well-known for his wealth and his large and growing family... and for being a prankster, sometimes when the time is wrong. Just this moment he sits outside leaning against his rail fence enjoying a smoke.

[Leebo(#31063)]
Leebo Tunnely sits on the steps of a disreputable smail. Taking a deep pull on his pipe, he absently twists a pustule. "Nottin like a pint in the evening, ah?" he asks no one in particular. His blunt fingers squeeze again and there is a quiet 'pop'. Sighing contentedly, he takes another pull, and exhales a small ring.

[Humphrey(#31419)]
A younger hobbit sits quietly next to Leebo. His furry legs are streched out, and his puffs a pipe as well, blowing smokerings up into the quiet night air. As he manages to blow a really large smoke-ring, he watches it float up into the air above his head.

"What do you think of that one!" he chuckles proudly.

[Josiah()]
An off-tune melody, entirely indistinct tinges the night air. An unwanted sight begins to materialize on the road coming towards the smials - one rather large and rather drunk man staggers his way along the lane. His words are indistinguishable, but it would sound like he's enjoying a sing-a-long. Josiah finds a post and leans against it loosly, staring off down the lane. "Nowa wearz mie howse!" he says after a long period of contemplation.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Crispin eyes Josiah sidelong, frowning. "Wrong neighborhood, Mister...?" Shaking his head, he mutters, "That's what's wrong with Bree these days! Can't even sit on your front lawn having a smoke without some Big Folk stumbling over you!"

He casts a doubtful glance up toward the smoke ring as well. "Amateur smokers!" Puffing in and out rapidly for a moment, Crispin produces a ring, thick and full, whoch floats up, encircles the one blown by Humphrey, and keeps going...

[Black_Squinter(#23381)]
In front of the hobbits, a part of the night takes shape and rears up before them. A fearsome black cloak spreads itself as dark arms are brought out from underneath it, and atop them sits a deep cowl. As the hood turns to the Little Folk, a pair of twin rubies blaze into life within it, and a sneering whisper overtakes the breeze as it twists its way towards them. "Baggins," it states, and there is the gleam of cold steel in the starlight.

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Baggins?" Crispin scowls, frowning at the shadow. "What about him?" He points at Leebo, gesturing with animated movements. "There he is now, trying to smoke with a professional! Ho now, Mister Baggins! What of it -- did you see that beauty I blew?"

[Leebo(#31063)]
Leebo reaches under his shirt and scratches vigorously. "Not half bad, laddie, not half bad. Keep it up, Humphrey, and you can blow 'em like your ol'-" Crispen's words draw the attention of the braggart and he cowers away from the towering figure and stammers, "I- I'm only half Baggins."

[Humphrey(#31419)]
Humphrey's eyes grow wide with fear as he eyes the black shadow, "My mother's cousin twice removed was a Baggins," he stutters. His hand with the pipe has dropped, and he looks quite unsettled. "But there are no Bagginses here, no! You better go away!"

[Josiah()]
"Ah thimk aye she eet." Josiah says, trying to focus his eyes. He blinks and rubs them slightly as he stares into the black cape of the latest visitor. He takes a wreckless step forward, right into the back of the terror, and without warning, finds himself flat on his back. "Wherzthatz cow cum frum?" He manages to ask.

[Black_Squinter(#23381)]
The cowl turns upon cloaked shoulders, and for a moment the Big folk are fixed with crimson fury from the confines of the hood. But then, slowly, and bringing a fell blade to bear, the dark figure steps towards the hobbits. "But Baggins nonetheless," it answers Leebo it a tone of sizzling flesh. "Where is it?"

But just as it raises the evil weapon as if to strike, Josiah's clumsy frame batters into the black cloak and the figure whirls about with a screech. Raging talons slice out at the man, aiming to send his empty head into the stone walls and dash out what paltry wits he might have.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Crispin Leafturner cowers back behind his fence as the shadow threatens the human. He calls out, "I dunno no Baggins, Sir. But word in town is, there's plenty of visitors down at Barli's /Prancing Pony/. Try there if you're looking for an Outsider of some sort. All we want is a little peace and quiet up here on the hill -- just trying to enjoy a good smoke on a cool autumn night!"

[Leebo(#31063)]
"I-I admit it. I keep the letter in the back cupboard, but please, please don't tell the Missus!" Leebo screams, his voice creeping up an octave. With the figure distracted, he sprints into his smial and slams the door, a clicking sound drifting after him.

[Josiah()]
As Josiah looks up from his new vantage point, he sees the razored hand swing his eyes go wide. His own voice adds a cowering chorus to the words of the hobbits. "I-I-I-..." is all he manages. He kicks with his back feet, trying to get some semblance of footing.

[Humphrey(#31419)]
Humphrey gets halfway up, then steps backwards and falls.

"I - I better head home," he mumbles and tries to not look at the black horror in front of him. Luckily, the black shade is distracted by the drunkard, so Humphrey makes a bold attemt to escape.

[Black_Squinter(#23381)]
A heavy yet supple foot places itself upon Josiah's chest, and the murderous blade of the black figure raises to strike. But at that moment it hears the scurrying sound of Leebo's escape, and the hood flicks back up in alarm. A thin, piercing cry rends the night air, and the creature withdraws from Josiah with a shrinking twist of its hidden limbs. It spins about, the red eyes within the cowl gleaming cruelly, and once more does the fell voice seep out towards Cripsin. "Where?" it asks plainly, and the shadows lengthen and stretch upon the ground as it advances upon the man. "Show me..."

[Barliman(#14469)]
"Whoa, whoa there!" Crispin warns, though he's scared so much he may have soiled his clothing. Pointing away down the hill, toward Barli's place, he warns, "We keep a dog on the premesis, don't want no trouble now! Barli's is away down there. Nothing up here of interest, unless you like a bit of the weed?"

[Humphrey(#31419)]
Very queitly, Humphrey slips between the nightly shadows and sneaks away from the menacing black figure.

[Josiah()]
The crushing weight of the shadow's boot presses all the wind out of Josiah. His face goes flush as he gasps for air. When the weight is lifted, he rolls slightly and grabs his chest, wheezing and fighting to breath. Although he tries, his drunken condition leaves him unable to rise or flee.

[Black_Squinter(#23381)]
The shape advances further, its bulk growing and darkening further as the fiery red eyes blaze all the more. "Lie to me, and you shall wish your flesh already parted from your bones before my blade is done with it." The evil blade rises, pointing at Crispin's throat and but a finger or two away from it. The cowl hovers above the man's face, peering into his gaze perhaps to seek truth from his words.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Crispin, visibly shaken, points downhill. He gasps, his voice trembling, and his knees buckle. As he sinks to his knees, pointing still, the tip of the blade scratches his cheek on its way up, and the old hobbit actually begins to cry. "That way..." he wails. "Now leave me be! I've done nothing wrong!"

[Josiah()]
Josiah manages to sit up, but is still gasping for breath. His heavy chest heaves up and down while he shakes his head, trying to get his bearings.

[Black_Squinter(#23381)]
The blade slips deftly inside the midnight cloak, and the evil shape seethes a wordless reply to Crispin. The rubies fade within the cowl; their fire spent for the moment it seems. With a nimble, and yet oddly powerful flurry of feet the figure spins about and melts away, though a knee flashes from the shadows towards Josiah's forehead as it goes. There is the rustle of the wind upon the hedges, and then nothing. The air begins to grow warmer, though not by much.

[Josiah()]
The tremendous blow sends Josiah reeling once again, his head hits the ground with such force that he bounces slightly. As he comes in contact with the ground, the drunkard lets out an anguished cry. His face is badly scraped and he quickly starts bleeding where the shadow's knee made contact. He lays there in a heap on the ground, sobbing and heaving and wholly unable to move.

[Barliman(#14469)]
Crispin crumples to the ground, broken and cowed. He sobs, his body convulsing with his emotion...

As the Nazgul float away down the hill, darkness envelopes the frightened hobbit, and night encompasses the top of Bree Hill...