Bree - The Prancing Pony - Common Room

Contents:
Dharlon
Forantur
A'marocha
Moin
Long Bar
Dart Board
Obvious exits:
Water Closet and Foyer
 

A smile touches his lips as he surveys the company. Still, for the moment, he waits quietly to one side and orders some of the fine apple cider. The barman demands coin up front, but the bearded wanderer appears not to notice the insult.
Dharlon walks into the common room from the foyer, looking quite confused. He looks this way and that, and noticing A'marocha with some kind of mug wanders ove and asks "Is this where we get food and drink?"

A'marocha is startled by the voice she doesn't recognize, and looks about for the source of it. Seeing Dharlon, and noting the badge, looks curiously at him. "Well, this is an inn, I would say that yes, you can get food and drink here." Turning back to Moin, she discreetly tilts her head towards the human. "Him."
The door to the Common Room, which opens and closes a hundred times a day, opens yet again, revealing Gerthan the hunter standing in its doorway. He quickly steps into the room, and spying a secluded table in the corner of the room, heads over to it, whispering something to a passing barmaid on his way to the table.

Thick, strong fingers curl about the mug, and a nod of thanks is given to the youth. Glittering grey eyes set in the man's face study the crisp golden fluid a moment, and then he imbibes with a smile. The motion of his arm finishes with a lowering of a half-emptied mug, and with bits of apple stuck in the whiskers of his long moustache.

Dharlon looks around confused scratching his head. Looking at the barmaid giving the hunter that just arrived a mug of cider, He heads to the bar, asking for a menu, eventully he gets one. He reviews in carefully, then says something and reaches into his cloak. A sound like a bunch of coins is heard, and he drops something on the bar

Pryderi comes into the common room from the foyer.
Pryderi has arrived.

"More cider," he rumbles, softly. "And a loaf of bread, and sharp cheese."

Pryderi steps into the room scowling a bit at the cold. She pinches her frozen ear tips then looks about.

A'marocha leans towards Moin, eyes still on the human as he takes a seat. "He's got black hair and beard, and is wearing grey, I believe," she says as softly as Moin did.

Pryderi sniffs, working warmth into her fingers. She slips a set of pipes from her belt and blows a few experimental notes. Her skill is far from exemplimentary, but there's the hint of some talent. Perhaps with practice.

Quonfo comes into the common room from the foyer.
Quonfo has arrived.

Moin looking over his shoulder for yet another minute, Moin suddenly freezes. "Hmm, haven't I seen him before. . ." he stares thoughtfully at the stranger, frowning lightly. "Yeah, somehow he looks familiar, but still.. .not", He puffs his pipe quite thoughtfully sometimes, making some large rings of smoke that wanders around in the room almost a minute before they disappear in nothing. "You haven't seen him before, A'marocha?" he says softly,not taking his eyes away from the dark stranger..

A'marocha takes another pull of her ale mug and shakes her head in response to Moin's question. "No, never. He just happened to catch my eye."

Pryderi misses a note, klnwoing instantly it's not right. She stops and attempts the song a second time. Again, the note is off. Frustration brings a deep frown to her face. She knows the note is incorrect but cannot find the correct one. She struggles on, in some hope the note might reveal itself later.

Nogrim comes into the common room from the foyer.
Nogrim has arrived.

Quonfo says, "Hello"
Quonfo says, "Join me"

"One for the morning glory," go the words, "and two for the early dew; three for the man who'll stand his ground, and four for the love of you..."

A'marocha blinks at Moin's sudden departure and sits sideways in her chair, right arm crooked over the back of the chair, right leg tucked beneath her. She watches her companion for a moment, then slides off the chair. A'marocha heads over to the door and with a wave to Moin that she doesn't think he sees, she pulls open the door and heads outside.

A'marocha steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
A'marocha has left.

Dharlon is a bit starteled by moin at first, but recomposes himself and starts to follow Moin "I'm truly sorry, but unless I'm mistaken, weren't yo banned from the shire? In that case it would be my bussiness, because I'm a shirriff there, and it's my duty to uphold any disicision the court makes... I'm sure that you may find me a pest but I really must ask...." He stops for a minute, wondering if moin will turn around and face him

Pryderi's playing falters as she hears the singing from the large dark man. She pushes herself to continue, but the melody wavers a touch. There's a hint she might understand the words as she listens.

"A shirrif of the Shire has no power in Bree," says this man calmly. "And I have the wish to have a proper word with this one. So, little one, I adise you to leave him be."

Quonfo steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Quonfo has left.

Dharlon stares at the huge man, and starts to tremble, but eventully clnches his fist and trys to stand stiff, as to keep him from looking afraid. He gathers all the strength in vice he can muster and says "I was planning to make him an offer,with mayor whitfootspermission of course, a escort tthrough the shire, for if I found him wandering in the shire it would be my duty to do something about it, I meant no harm truly..." He begins to tremble again, trying, but catches himself "I meant him no harm, belive me...."

Stodo comes into the common room from the foyer.
Stodo has arrived.

Forantur nods to the stout dwarf, waving him to the bar with an empty hand. "You may leave, little hobbit," he says to the shivering creature. "I do not intend to hurt you; only that you leave my... friend... to be."

With that he returns to stand beside his seat, and waits for Moin to take the offered one by it.

Stodo walks into the room and hangs up his coat
Stodo peers around the room

Kele-De comes into the common room from the foyer.
Kele-De has arrived.

Dharlon breaths a sigh of relif, the suddenly sees Stodo hanging his coat he jumps and nearly shouts "Stodo! You came after all! What happened? How are you?" he sudddenly seems very happy and all traces of fear are gone. Walking quickly over to him he says "It's so nice to see a friendly face in a room full of strangers, even if most of them are friendly..." he casts a glance at Moin "though I never liked that one" he mutters "I want to see him home safel and then never again...."

Nogrim stands still, quietly watching the scene which is taking place in the large room. With a light chuckle he listens to the hobbit, and the dwarf. When the third man talks he study also him with calm, silent eyes. As the whole thing again seems to loosen up a bit, he makes his way, slowly on old feet to the bar running across the northern wall. In a nice manoeuvre he drops down just one stool left to the man and the khazad, smiling happily at the barman running over to him. "A mug of your best wine," he demands and falls back in the chair seemingly relaxing touching innocently his waistcoat now and then.

Stodo notices Dharlon "Dharlon! how are you! I thought you where still back at Oatbarton! how long have you been here?"

Dharlon chuckles "I came with the first caravan over here. lets sit down" he raises the mug of cider in righthand "So I can finish this drink" He laughs, his mood suddenly cheerfully, as he looks for a good table to sit down at
Dharlon smiles and says "So what happened? How did you get here?"

Abigail comes into the common room from the foyer.
Abigail has arrived.

Stodo leans over to Dharlon "I came on the second caravan. How was your trip here? I heard something about a robbery..."

Dharlon raises his eyebrows "a robbery? When? There was none unless I slept right through it... And what a second caravan. I didn't know there were two....."

Lir comes into the common room from the foyer.
Lir has arrived.

Stodo nods "I heard something about a robbery....probally all nonsense. all It matters is that you and me are here safely. the second caravan left yesterday, just for all those who had some loose ends to tie up and couldn't go. I still wasn't very organized, so I couldnt bring much pipeweed, just all I can fit in this bag." Stodo points to the little bag that he is carrying.

Dharlon grins "thats ok, I gotinto your shop and took two barrels and about twenty sack, couldn't find you, so hoped you wouldn't mind. How have you been then? and problems on your caravan? And also, if the second caravan left yesterday, how did it get here so fast?"

Bill_Ferny has arrived.

Farod comes into the common room from the foyer.
Farod has arrived.

Stodo claps his hands "excellent! I was hoping you would bring the pipeweed."

Spirak comes into the common room from the foyer.
Spirak has arrived.

Spirak enters amidst the hubbub, looking for a place to sit and a cider to drink.

Willem struts into the Common Room with a loud "Wooowee! Look'ye at the crowd o' folk we got in here!" Ahaking a hand here or there, he makes his way over to the longbar so as to give Maple a big grin and a wink. "Heya Maple! None o' these here fellers are givin you no lip, no are they? You a let me know if they do!"

Stodo produces a pipe from his pocket, stuffs in a bit of pipeweed and lights it. he leans back on his chair and blows a few small smoke rings out.

Dharlon's ears perk up, and he stands up, none to joyfully, and starts walk over to the Tall human andMoin, then comes back to sit down but shakes his head "Two sides to every story, and for the reason I hope Moin isn't giving him HIS side of thedell north of the shire...." He turns to Stodo and says "just a moment...." standing up and walking towards the bar, sudeenly he ducks off, hoping no one will notice him, then sneaks behind Moin, in an attempt to hear better

Heflin comes into the common room from the foyer.
Heflin has arrived.

Kele-De slides into the room, her hazel eyes suspicious as they look about the room. Her face is set and emotionless, chiseled as in stone. The light plays off the studs on her leather armor as she moves along the wall to sit with a table of Dunlendings. She doesn't really take a part of the conversation, just looks over the heads of the others, eyes watching the crowd for anything that might be threatening to her people.

Pryderi enters the Common Room from the Water Closet.
Pryderi has arrived.

Pryderi moves into the room once again after a fepature for a while. Once again she goes through the ritual of trying to get warmth to her wind chilled body.

Tara comes into the common room from the foyer.
Tara has arrived.

Stodo looks at all the gossiping people

Pryderi sees Kele-de and looks on the elder woman for a while then decides against something, looking for a table by herself.

Gharik comes into the common room from the foyer.
Gharik has arrived.

Dharlon turns tto the hobbit and his jaw drops. Forgeting all about Moin and Forantur, the jumps up and surries over, to many this would seem as a hobbit appearing from nowhere "Farod? is that you?" without hetation he snatches a menu and reaches into his cloak "something hard right.... whatever is wrong..." he pulls out some change then drops some on the table
Dharlon +gives 8 Copper Pennies to Long Bar.
Dharlon shakes his head "take this, it's called dwarven-mithril ale, try some"

Kele-De leans back. The conversation of the other men at the table goes on in front of her, and she stares past it, as if the others werent't there. The men don't seem at all concerned, only aknowledging her presence with slightly uneasy glances at her that the Dierthair doesnt seem to notice.

With that, he gathers his cloak under arm and withdraws from the room. The thickening smoke swirls around him as he departs.

Forantur steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Forantur has left.

Palto enters the Common Room from the Water Closet.
Palto has arrived.

Palto steps out of the water closet and takes a second to compose himself. He has washed up nice and clean and looks ready for some fun.

Leaving the seclusion of his corner table, Gerthan the hunter has a slightly crazed look in his eyes as he wanders over to the bar, eager to refill his mug of ale.

Stodo looks over at Palto "Palto! gooday! It is nice to see another hobbit from home here!"

Nogrim moves slowly from the bar, making his path to a table close to the south wall. "If it just have been wine," he mimbles quietly to himself.

        This early Bree evening is chilly indeed. In fact, most Breefolk would tell you that this winter has lasted a bit longer than most, as there's still snow on the ground and a frigid bite in the air. This night though, as most nights, the ole Pony is plenty warm. The ale is flowin and the fire is glowin, and that means there's a company in place for fellowship at Barliman's place. Not just any ordinary company, however - the stoutest men - and women, to be sure - of Eriador are gathered in this quaintt little inn, and are preparing mentally and physically for a battle like none other. The victorious will be the only person remaining standing when all is said and done. The battlefield? Bar stools. The tools of war? Pint-size metal mugs. And the battle to be won? No, not bloody sword-play or black trickery. Nor out and out brawling. this is a battle of the livers and kidneys and bladders. A battle to find out who can drink more than any other soul in Eriador.

        The combatants are gathered, and the air is chill. There, at the bar, Bob and Nob are lining up cold mugs of beer on the bar. And there, to the side just a touch, stands the clumsy innkeeper himself, Barliman Butterbur.
        He calls out, and stands upon a chair, and puts his cupped hands to his mouth...and his voice in this place is plenty enough to be heard in every corner, and to the outside. "Hullo there, all and every one! But bless me, I'll warrant there's some folks here that's just about ready to get started with this whole contest! I was just speaking with ole longbeard over here and he's beggin me to get started, and so I figure there's others as feel the same way, or this ain't my Prancing Pony! What do you all think?!" He puts his cupped hands to his ears now and awaits a response.

Dharlon takes a good look at Farod "I have no idea what are talking about, but you are still farod. Even you don't knw who you are, your always Farod, and you can never be any one else." a slight tinge of fear comes into his face, it appears he is not afriad of anyone, because he makes no fearful looks when glaning at anyone, but about something "Farod listen to me. What ever happened never throw away a kind gesture, unless you have a kind gesture to repond with. And always remember, whenever you have a problem, tell someone. If you don't it could cost you years of happiness, it did me. Strenth in numbers Farod... And ALWAYS remember this, listen to advice when it's given" He sits down shaking his head at a table

Pryderi stops mid-note at the innkeeper's shout. She looks at him with curious green eyes.

Tandern grasps his mug in between both his stubby hands, and taps it on the bar impatiently, wanting to start. "This beer better be good Barliman" he grumbles, still hungover from his last night in the Inn. He looks around at his opponents, giving them a menacing grin.

Palto smiles and gives a wave to Stodo, "Hullo Stodo... I feel rested. Ready for some fun?" he eyes the long line of mugs at the bar, and with a straightening of his belt, takes a seat at the end.

Heflin enters quickly, realizing that he's slightly late to the festivities. As to not intrude, he sneaks in and sits down at a table near the bar. He has no intention of letting the contest start without him.

Stodo climbs up onto a stool and gets ready.
Stodo glances over to Palto "good luck!"

Willem puts his arm around Maple and gives her a little squeeze. "How's about a kiss for luck there, lady?" and without waiting, he plants one square on her lips.

Looking down the bar to his right, Gerthan eyes the other participants in this game he has foolishly gotten himself into. Not one to back down from any challenge, however, he runs his fingers through his hair absently as he looks about the crowded room, eager to get the contest under way.

Spirak whistles and laughs at Willem for a second, twirling his mug round his fingers. He nods to Nob and Bob, and looks expectantly towards Maple.

Aralee comes into the common room from the foyer.
Aralee has arrived.

Stodo eyes the lines of drinks nervously

Heflin manages to procure one of the stools near him. He hops upon it, looks around at his neighbors, and says, "Evening, me friends!" His eyes widen at the large beer mug before him.

Aralee sits down at the bar

Stodo calms down on the stool and shivers at the thought of having to drink all of that ale. he mumbles "you've done it now Stodo, what where you thinking?"

Aralee steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Aralee has left.

Palto's eyes widen, "Lor...." he mutters to hismelf at Barliman's prowess.

Stodo looks up up to Barliman as he shows off his skills

Palto winces at the sudden outbursts all about him... not used to this much racket in the Shire pubs.

Pryderi watches the 'contest' with something akin to amazement. The whole idea seems unusual to her and she tucks one leg up against her on the chair, watching, her pipes hanging from her fingers for the moment.

Stodo tries to shout over the croud to Palto "just be calm about it! "

Palto grins, and shouts, "I'll take ye home instead!" the excitement quite gone to his head.

Spirak let's loose a couple of cheers, and smiles at all around him. "This is my kind of contest," he says.

Heflin shouts out, "I'm ready! Bring on the beer!" He has no intention of losing, unless it be to a fellow hobbit.

Willem shouts up to Maple "You can't outdrink ME, woman! Just TRY! I'll be showin you!"

Nogrim sits in the back of the room, shaking his head slowly sighing sadly. "If it just have been wine..." he keeps repeating the same words over and over. "if it only had been wine!

Reaching out to the mug in front of him, Gerthan seizes it in an almost death grip and raises it up before him. He stands up and shouting to be heard over the din says, "A toast! To drinking for the sake of drinking!" With that said, he takes a mighty gulp, and shakes his head to the side after he gulps it down. "Ahh, that was mighty tasty," he looks down again at his mug, and takes another, smaller sip.

Palto starts to tap his mug on the bar, getting louder and louder as he does... "Drink, drink, drink, drink.. " he starts to chant in rhythm to his mug pounding.

Stodo studies the mug of ale that is set in front of him

Randel comes into the common room from the foyer.
Randel has arrived.

Heflin takes the mighty glass to his lips and takes a down a long gulp. When he has nearly downed the bottom of his glass, he puts it back on the bar and emits a very loud belch (louder than one might suspect a hobbit could make).

SLAM! The sound of Bill Ferny's empty mug hitting the bar. Yes, he's a tough guy, and yes he can drink quickly. Who knows how long he'll last though. He snarls at those around him still sipping their mugs, and gives a hearty laugh, followed by an icy gaze, which he generously passes around to all who will look at him.

Spirak grabs his mug and pushes it to his lips, forcing all the liquid to go sloshing down his throat. He smiles, and twirls the mug in the air, flinging the last few drops over all the contestants near him. He grabs the mug again, and slides it over to Nob, apologizing quietly to the now-wet drinkers.

Pryderi watches this entire production with disgusted wonder. A skinny arm wrapped about her skinny leg holding ti against her skinny body, the girl looks like a stick broken and folded against itself.

Taking one last drink from his mug, Gerthan drains it to the last drop. He sets it down hard upon the bar, and already has another one in his hand before his old mug is taken away. Taking a long sip from his mug, he finishes and wipes his hand on his sleeve.

Stodo calmly lifts up his first mug of ale , trying to plug out the roaring of the crowd. He slowly empties his glass. he wipes his mouth with his Jacket, and puts his mug down for another swig. He murmers to himself "slow and steady wins the race..."

Palto grasps his rather large, now full mug with two hands and firmly lifts it up... he licks his lips and sets his lips to the edge. Then with a quick tilt back of the head and a lift of the arm, he opens his mouth wide and pours the brew down his gullet. With a smack, he lowers his mug and wipes hism outh on his sleeve. He raises his mug up with a "Hoorah!"

Dwarin comes into the common room from the foyer.
Dwarin has arrived.

Tandern emits a loud belch, and grabs the second mug...he holds it high and exclaims "heres to the caterers!". He manages to swig down half of his mug in one large gulp, then he pauses to catch his breath, and patting his stomach, forcing him to belch again before quickly downing the rest, his hand already groping for the third.

Toregrin comes into the common room from the foyer.
Toregrin has arrived.

Spirak grabs his refilled drink, and downs the mug, being careful not to leave any drops out. He smiles and tosses the mug in the air again, but this time it lands on Heflin's head.

Taking his mug in both hands, Gerthan raises it up and drains it contents into his mouth, with a little ale dribbling out of the sides of his mouth. He lowers his mug as a slight cheer errupts from those watching the contest.

Randel yells encouragement to the hunter!!!

Stodo picks up his second glass of ale and downs it a bit quicker this time. He

Palto takes a second before lifting his second mug to his lips... he eyes it, noting the thick color, and smells it like it were a fine wine.. then he shakes his head and opens his large mouth wide, tilts his head back and downs the second mug.. taking an extra gulp longer than the first time. He drops the mug to the bar and his eyes are wide as he tries to breathe... "ahhhh..." he lets out.

Randel stamps her feet and shouts, "More, more! you can drink a whole barrel!"Randel nods absently-mindedly to Nob, the meat-pie half-forgotten. She glances again at the young lady at the table and wonders if it would be safe to greet her...

Spirak moves over towards the bar, picking up a meat-pie from Bob, and rushing it back over to Randel. "'ere you go miss." He silently waits for the money, not trusting any Big person to make good on a tab.

Pryderi watches the feastivities, far more an observer then any kind of participant. She glances to the door for a moment, then back to the row of particpants.

Palto pounds his mug, and shouts, "Give us some drinking music!"

Heflin enters the Common Room from the Water Closet.
Heflin has arrived.

Dwarin struts into the Common Room with a smug look on his face. The stout dwarf scans over the room briefly and accepts the mugs from Nob. He nods slightly to him as he pours the brew down his throat, finishing both mugs in an astoundingly short size for someone his size. He wipes the foam from his mouth and grunts, "You call this ale? Tastes more like something hobbits would drink! Bartender," he exclaims, "MORE!"

Willem feelin a little tipsy and gettin a look at a more exposed Maple grins broadly, cheers and downs his third mug

Tandern hurls his empty mug behind him, sending it clattering to the ground at the feet of Pryderi. "NEXT!" he yells, mid-way through a belch..so that it sounds more like a bullfrog croaking than a man. He looks eagerly at the next mug, and graps it between both of his chubby hands, eyeing it as a child eyes a piece of chocolate..though his hands seem a little shakey, he gulps it down steadily.....he drops the mug from his hand, and slams a fist on the table "ach! Nob! wheres the next one eh?" he says, his speech slurred and whistley...urged on only by fellow Breefolk standing near him, his partially glazed eyes gazing over Maple's partially exposed bosom.

Glancing at his competitors before he reaches for his third mug, Gerthan grins slightly, confident in his drinking abilities. At his back behind him, the common room is a cacopony

Pryderi yelps a bit and tugs the other skinny leg up against her. Curled in her chair, she watches the precedings with confusion, the entire ordeal beyond her understanding. A frown tugs down her lips as her green eyes looks over the 'competetors'.

Randel thumps on the table to encourage the hobbits and humans.

Glancing at his competitors before he reaches for his third mug, Gerthan grins slightly, confident in his drinking abilities. At his back behind him, the common room is filled with raucous laughter and drunken shouting so that it is almost impossible to hear anyone, let alone yourself. He shrugs slightly and downs his third mug of ale.

Dwarin, still completely sober, accepts the next mug presented to him and throws his head back as the brew flows down his throat, though some of it remains on his beard. He continues drinking without stopping. This Dwarf is one who seems to be of the view that oxygen comes second to alcohol. As he slams the empty mug down on the table, some of the head remaining foam drips onto the table. His eyes widen and a devious smile creeps across his normally smiling face. "Ach," he begins, "I'm just getting started." he winks slightly and awaits the next round.

Stodo hoists up his third mug and swallows the liquid down. some of it dribbles down the side of his cheek, but he wipes it off. Stodo calms down and relaxes on the chair, getting ready to drink another mug.

Randel stands up to see who thought the dwarf could "drink 'em down", but cannot identify the speakers in the mad whirl of activity. She yells, "we'll see!" good naturedly in the general direction and sits down again.

Palto stands up on his bar stool and raises his third mug above his head and waves to the crowd.. he holds out one hand and sticks out a foot so that he stands on only one leg as he begins to pour the mug down his gullet. His face is beet red and the stool wobbles dangerously, gulp... gulp... gulp... and swallow. Palto finishes the mug and puts his foot down and bows to the crowd, nearly toppling forward as he does so.

Spirak throws his head back, ignoring the indignant Heflin, and downs the last drink... from a foot over his head! That's right he pours the drink down his mouth, and seems proficient enough not to spill a drop. Grinning ear to ear he sighs and throws the mug at Bob.

Stodo is overwhelmed by the crowds chanting, and drinks tries to gulp down two mugs just to show off, as Barliman did. He pauses in the middle of a gulp and faints, being overloaded with beer. the glasses clatter on the floor as he lets go of them and falls to the ground.

Tandern begins singing loud and boisterously, the effect of the alcohol playing no small part: "Where the beer be brown, and always goes down...ash schmooth ash shilk, at the Taverrrrn..ah! me hearty fellowes, thish is the life...the life the liiiiiiffeee". As he hurls his empty third mug high in the air, against finding it way near the young dunlending girl, missing her head by a handspan. He makes start on his fourth beer, and gets three quarters of the way through before stopping, and patting his belly, muttering "come on, Tandy, ye can do it...just relax". He dry-wretches, leaning forward as if to vomit..feeling the alcohol coarsing through his blood...with a sigh, he takes his mug and drowns the rest...red-nosed, with a grin on his face he sways slightly on his stool, but still manages to hold himself up.

Spirak laughs as he grabs another round from Nob, and hoists it up in the air. "Then Shire hobbits ain't got nothin' on me! I'm the talk of the town, and I'll drink till ya'll drown!" With that he pours another one like before, urged on by the earlier applause, but this time without much success. Instead, the ale splatters him in the face, and drips down into his mouth. Slowly he corrects his aim, and finishes the mug.

Letting out a tremendous belch, Gerthan smiles faintly and mutters, "Excuse me." He starts to chuckle at the sight of Stodo, who has fallen off the bench and is now getting carted away towards the door. Perhaps inspired by Tandern's impromptu song, Gerthan, completely out of tone, sings, "Knock it back 'ave another one, cause drinking ain't thinking, but it sure is fun!" Several nearby hobbits, who are also drinking, but remain apart from the competition, take up the song in a chorus of off key singing.

Looking at the latest mug of ale, Gerthan raises it up, over his head, eyeing it all the while, so as not to spill a drop. He sways a little in his seat, and it looks for a second like his ale is going to spill over, but it doesn't and he cries out, "Here's to getting drunk!" And with that he drains his fourth mug.

Palto steps down from his stool to get his ale, and nearly falls over in the effort. With his fourth ale in hand, he tries to climb the stool again, but misses his footing on the rung and slips cracking his chin on the stool. He falls to the floor with a thump.... within seconds, a loud snoring can be heard from under the stool.

Dwarin smiles at the Dwarves in the corner, "Aye, cousins. With Mahal's help I'll teach these human-folk something about drinking!" He gives a slight bow to his kin before turning his attention back to the ale. "You folks should come to Kheled-dun and try the ale there! This is nothing more than foamy water!" He accepts the next mugfull and gives an evil look to his competetors as he prepares to down another pint. As he does, he squints a bit. His face becomes a bit flushed and he puts some of his weight against the bar. As the feeling passes he straightens himself up a bit and shakes his head wildly and lets out a shrill cry in a raspy dwarven voice. "Next!"

Randel waves her handkerchief frantically. "Go on, Heflin! go on! you can drink 'em down, do-o-o-wn do-o-wn!" she hollers.

Pryderi shakes her head as the combatants falls to the sidelines, some litterally. Baffled by it all, she watches seemingly simply because it is what happeneing at the moment.

Nogrim rises suddenly and shakes his head for the Nth timestill mumbling silent words to himself. "This is nothing for me, if it had only been wine, then..." he didn't complete the sentence as he understands that he's talking with himself again, and slowly he leaves the room.
Nogrim steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Nogrim has left.

Randel claps excitedly as Heflin returns to the Bar.

Spirak makes a grab for his ale, inteading to slosh it back and win the contest, but he mistakenly grabs Heflin's mug. A little more than tipsy, Spirak looks like he's about to fall off his stool, but instead he takes a big gulp of ale and slams the mug back down on the bar. And also his head. He tries to rise slightly, and after a minute or so he manages to make it back up, but it doesn't look like he can last much longer.

With a matyr's sigh, Randel nods, saying "get along with you, lad. This ain't a place for younsters as you right now." She wolfs down the last of her pie and waves to the valiant battlers at the bar. "Well, duty calls!" she says regretfully, standing up with reluctance..

After downing his fourth ale, a funny look comes over Gerthan's face and it turns a very pale shade. His eyes close for a second and he looks around, and sees that Maple is, for the moment, distracted, and the other contestants seem to be in a daze of their own. Quickly he gets up off his stool and runs to the water closet, not even bothering to close the door behind him. Those closest to the water closet hear the sounds of vomitting for approximately one minute, before Gerthan re-emerges, looking a little better for the sudden pit stop. He quietly resumes his seat at the bar, just as Maple turns her attention once again back to the drinking contest.

He looks a little concerned as Maple places the fifth mug in front of him, but his resolution is strong and he grabs the mug in his right hand, raises it up and toasts, "For Bree! For the Big Folk!" Several locals cheer Gerthan as he says his toast and downs his ale, some of it running down his chin, before he wipes it away with his sleeve.

Spirak looks over at the two slumped contestants beside him and tries to laugh. Unfortunately for him, this turns into a series of gasping hiccups. "You silly *hic hic hic

Dwarin runs his hand with pride through his 'longbeard' at hearing the crowd's words. With that he eagerly awaits the next round to be given out. He simply rolls his eyes at the humanfolk and their sexual bumbling. He looks relatively unaffected by the ale, save for a little woozy and a flushed face. But, who knows how Dwarves react to drunkenness. He listens to what Ferny has to say as the next pint of ale is delvered to him. He swallows it down quickly, "Lishhten, YOU! I'll not be bribed away frrrrum my ale! So take those...whatevers and git!" he makes a shooing motion with his hand, almost losing his balance as he does so.

Riflo comes into the common room from the foyer.
Riflo has arrived.

Palto is passed out on the floor... pushed aside and out of the way in a corner.

Willem catches Maple as she slumps forward, almost falling off of the bar. Scootin his stool forward as far as he can, he holds her passed out form gently against his left shoulder and motions to Nob for one more mug of ale. "Ah, come on folks.. Maple here can't outdrink us, but I'll be outdrinkin ya'll for her!" he calls out, trying hard not to slur his words too bad.

Spirak looks over at the two slumped contestants beside him and tries to laugh. Unfortunately for him, this turns into a series of gasping hiccups. "You silly *hic hic hic* I'm a gonna win this contest, no *hic* no mat-*hic*- no matter *hic hic hic* yeah, that's a right, nobody's go *hic hic* gonn *hic* gonna beat me!" With that he grabs his own mug this time, and tips his head back, sloshing the ale down his throat and laughing the whole way. His face becomes bright red and he falls off his stool backwards hitting the ground with a heavy thud. "S'okay! I'm a gonna get up!" he yells off the ground, and after a few minutes he finally mannages to move his way back onto the barstool.

Scrunching his face up into a funny, contorted shape, Gerthan's eyes look really glazed over and he is visibly swaying on his barstool. Reaching out, he grabs the bar and steadies himself, only to find the room is still spinning. He belches again, and unlike before there is no excuse forthcoming this time.

Eyeing his latest mug warily, he finally reaches out and grabs it, downing it down, with a noticeable struggle. He takes a deep breath, and gives Spirak a hard 'friendly' pat on the back, saying, " 'ats the stuff there laddie, isn't it?" It looks for a minute that he is going to lose his balance, but steadies himself by leaning heavily on Spirak.

Dwarin waves off Ferny again, the alcohol obviously making him forget how to whisper. "Shoo! Buisness-shmissnes. He mubles something in an unintelligable mumbling before accepting another round, "Dwarvesh donn't lose drrinking contests. So unless you've got some missthril from Khazad-dum, I don't want to year it! Got me, stranger!?" his voice is loud and out of control. "More Ale! MORE!" he turns back to the stranger, "Now see what you've done?! You've gotten me all rillled up. Git! Git! He makes yet another shooing motion with his hand. Go away! I'm sure that fool Gragor would be intereshted."

Lotila comes into the common room from the foyer.
Lotila has arrived.

Willem's latest mug falls to the floor with a clatter. His body is leaned forward against Maple, she slouched against him. Somehow they seem to be perfectly balanced at the bar in their passed out state.

Fiadhan comes into the common room from the foyer.
Fiadhan has arrived.

Spirak grabs his mug out of Nob's hand and stand's up on his bar stool and waves to all gathered around. "Seein' as 'ow I'm about to win all this here drinking contest and whatever nonsenseily stuff we've got a goin on around here. This one's for you Bree!" He attempts to down the last of his ale, but unfortunately the motion send him spinning off the chair, clubbing Ferny in the head with his cup, and falling on Dwarin, making him topple to the floor. Spirak smiles, and murmurs, "Scuse me," before passing out.

Dwarin's vision is clearly blurred by the alcohol, but he certainly does feel a prick of pain, "All right, all right, you Git. Let me finish this round. He grabs a mug and downs its contents just as Spirak falls on him. He pushes the body off of him as he stands up, "You lead the way, 'dark-and-dangerous'" he comments cynically.

Peregrin comes into the common room from the foyer.
Peregrin has arrived.

Lotila catches sight of Spirak as he gives his little speech just a moment before she'd been about to turn right around and leave again. With a sigh as the hobbit falls from his stool, she begins to make her way towards the fallen Spirak, as well as the rest of the group around him, muttering about the pointless festival.

Willem seems to wake a bit and grabs Maple just in time before she falls to the floor. Taking her gently in his arms, he ignores what's left of the contest and staggers towards the door.

Managing to focus his somewhat blured vision, Gerthan looks to his left, then to his right, eyeing Spirak and Dwarin in turn. Seeing that rascal of Bree, Ferny, engaged in mischief with Dwarin, he is glad for Ferny's intervention this once. As the mugs get passed around, Gerthan watches as the remaining two contestants crash to the floor as Spirak falls on top of Dwarin and Ferny both. Still in shock, Gerthan realizes he is the last man standing- or in this case sitting.

He grabs his mug and manages to rise to his feet, as he sees Dwarin wander away out of the corner of his eye. "For Niebel!" he cries, "For Bree!" He raises his mug up in salute and pours it down his throat, falling down hard on his barstool once his mug is drained.

Palto is passed out on the floor, in a corner of the room.

Pendebet walks into the smoky common room from the foyer, to see what all the commotion is about.

Peregrin steps through the door surreptitiously, scanning the crowded room for a crony or relative. Noticing neither, he winds his way through the crowd, getting jostled and bumped by the larger folk, until he makes his way to the bar. Hoising himself upon a stool, Pippin cranes his neck to see the current excitement offered by the Prancing Pony's common room.

Dwarin begins to follow, mug in hand. As soon as Ferny turns his back again, he lunges at him with stunning speed for a drunk Dwarf. Taking a clue from Spirak, he swings the mug at Ferny, attempting to hit him with all of his might in the back of the head.

Lotila stops near Spirak, looking down over the unconscious hobbit first, then over the other inebriated contestants. With the slightest shake of her head, and possibly thinking the pain in their heads when they wake up will serve them right, she does turn back towards the door, preparing to make her way through the noisy room to leave.

Ferny turns around and glares at the dwarf who has just struck him in the head, and realizes that it hit him the same place that Spirak's mug hit him earlier. Reaching up to feel the crown of his head, he winces in pain and shakes his head. Bending down, he grabs a nice-sized chunk of wood from the pile of firewood nearby, and rushes forward, bumps into Lotila full speed, and raises the wood above his head, aiming to strike Dwarin in his own head with it...

Dwarin's eyes widen as he sees the figure bearing down on him. Knowing that he hasn't enough time to dodge, he instinctively, even in his inebriated state, lunges towards Ferny's legs, hoping to trip him up...

Perhaps realizing his chance of winning the contest is increasing with every passing moment, Gerthan stands up, wobbling back and worth uneasily on his bar stool and shouts out to the crowd, "Bar fight!" His stool wobbles forward a bit too much and he manages to throw his weight behing him, and he lands hard on his rump on top of the bar, laughing all the while at the scene of chaos around him. Realzing that Nob, too is distracted, he reaches for another mug of ale, and holds it in his hands before him, though he makes no attempt yet to drink it.

Several drunken roustabouts in the back of the room seize this moment to add wood to the fire, and throw mugs of ale, some full, though most empty, towards the bar, crashing behind Gerthan. Falling over backwards off the bar, he lands on the floor, spilling most of his ale on him. Surprised that he has any ale left, he drinks down the last little remaining ale left him, and raises his head up over the bar, slowly, as he hears his name being hollered from somewhere in the room.

Pendebet claps for a moment, uncertainly, quickly assesses the high risk factor involved in being so close to the action when the guards arrive, and makes tracks towards the bar, pushing his way through the throng of eager spectators towering over him.

Spirak, who hadn't really passed out, but just decided enough ale was enough, opens an eye at the sounds he hears from around him. He stands up slowly and removes his bow from the strap at his back, and throws his big cloak over his shoulder to reveal the quiver. "Alright, that's enough you rascals! If you don't quite down and get out o' here in 2 ticks, I'm a gonna shoot you in the arse! And don't worry about my aim, drunk as I might be, you two are big enough fools to hit with my eyes closed!" He raises the bow and strings an arrow to emphasize his point.

Peeking his head above the bar, Gerthan ducks back down as a mug flies over his head, crashing into the wall behind him. Slowly but surely, he starts to crawl along the floor behind the bar, hoping to escape the madness that has griped the Common Room.

Lotila simply offers a nod to both the hobbit and human who rushed to help her. Not even reaching for her bag (which she knows full well has had -something- shattered in it), she turns her head upwards to glare angrily at the combat-ready Ferny just in time to see him coming at her and her rescuers. She doesn't move, always stubborn when it comes to dealing with this man, instead crossing her arms. Or at least, she would have if she hadn't been litterally lifted out of the way.

Spirak aims for Ferny's behind, just as he promised, but he's jostled by the huge crowd, and his shot goes wild, causing it to *plunk* in the ceilling. He gives a big "Aw shucks" and strings another arrow, but is pushed to the ground by another stumbling hobbit. Nob, on the other hand, does not miss. He takes a flying little leap off the bar, and manages to catch Ferny around the ankles causing him to stumble and trip end over end, almost directly out the door.

Spying a familiar figure from back West in the midst of the fight, he smiles smugly.

Climbing up, off of the floor, Gerthan looks around the room. The room is a mess. Broken mugs of ale are all over the place, and the floor is very sticky with spilled ale. Numerous patrons are passed out, scattered around the room, most of them hobbits, though the dwarf Dwarin is also unconcious. Pushing a few mugs out of his way, Gerthan climbs back over the bar, and lands on the other side, staggering as he tries to remain standing. Deciding he best be getting when the getting is good, he staggers across the room, towards the exit, bumping into Spirak's back en route.

Muriel comes into the common room from the foyer.
Muriel has arrived.

Spirak, after being bumped and jostled around for a few minutes, heads over to the bar, trying to shield himself from the commotion. Forlornly, he looks up at his arrow, still sticking in the ceilling. "How the heck am I gonna geddit now?" He sighs, and hops up on his old stool, helping himself to a mug of Cider courtesy of an open barrel on the other side of the bar.

Lotila manages to summon a half-smile, however forced, as she takes her bag. 'Thank you...and that oaf, as you called him, is always doing such rude things." Looking down at her bag with a slightly disgusted glance, she sighs once again. "If you'll excuse me, though, I must see what damage has been done." With that, she quickly makes her way through the room to the exit.

Ian comes into the common room from the foyer.
Ian has arrived.

Fiadhan nods as he hands the bag back to Lotila. "Aye," is all he says as he surveys the mess in the common room.

Dwarin sits up slowly and rubs the back of his neck, "Where is that bastard?!" he exclaims angrily.

Muriel steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Muriel has left.

Riflo steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Riflo has left.

Several rowdy hobbits rush through the room, towards the door, moving fast for their fat little frames as someone in the room calls out, "Bonfire in the courtyard!" Those patrons who still retain some sense of the real world, turn their heads and the room is filled with muttering as a chorus of people join the chant, "Bonfire! Bonfire!" Whether most of the patrons are hoping to distance themselves from the mess in the common room, or out of a genuine desire to see go to the Bonfire, remains to be seen.

Peregrin breathes a sigh of relief as the brawl seems to fizzle. He kicks some shattered glass to the side of the room with his calloused soles, so that an unsuspecting entrant does not receive the unfortunate experience of walking on broken glass. His eyes trace from the arrow lodged in the ceiling, to Pendebet at the bar, at which point his eyes narrow and he promptly makes his exit.
Peregrin steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Peregrin has left.

Fiadhan steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Fiadhan has left.

Spirak steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Spirak has left.

Ian steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Ian has left.

Heflin steps through the open doorway that leads out to the Foyer.
Heflin has left.

Seeing Spirak still attempting to drink something, Gerthan heads back over to the bar, grabs a mug for himself also and drags Spirak out of the room towards the bonfire, saying to Spirak, " 'ey lad, I reckon, reckon, we've done enough drinking in here, lets go outside now." He pushes Spirak out the door and follows him out.

Foyer

Spirak steps out of the large doorway and walks down a few steps until he stands under the archway beyond.
Spirak has left.

Archway to the Prancing Pony

Ian steps out of the doorway and descends a few broad steps, arriving under the archway once more.
Ian has arrived.

Cobblestones crunch under your feet as you make your way towards the Courtyard between the wings of the Prancing Pony Inn.
 

Bree - The Prancing Pony - Courtyard

Ian strolls into the courtyard from the archway beyond.
Ian has arrived.

Riflo strolls into the courtyard from the archway beyond.
Riflo has arrived.

Muriel strolls into the courtyard from the archway beyond.
Muriel has arrived.

Heflin strolls into the courtyard from the archway beyond.
Heflin has arrived.

Fiadhan strolls into the courtyard from the archway beyond.
Fiadhan has arrived.

Bodobrus strolls into the courtyard from the archway beyond.
Bodobrus has arrived.

Randel strolls into the courtyard from the archway beyond.
Randel has arrived.

Bill_Ferny strolls into the courtyard from the archway beyond.
Bill_Ferny has arrived.

Abigail strolls into the courtyard from the archway beyond.
Abigail has arrived.

Swaggering with a mug of ale that he managed to sneak out of the common room, Gerthan walks into the courtyard. "Oh my, will you look at those shh-stars!" And with that he promptly falls down.

Dwarin strolls into the courtyard from the archway beyond.
Dwarin has arrived.

        "Well, here we are, after a very exciting evening! We've got food, and we've got fire, but we need some stories from y'all. I heard some people mentioned they had 'em, so who want's to volunteer?!"
Spirak sits down amidst the gathering of Breefolk. He sits down next to Heflin, and nudges him. "You should tell a story! You know some great ones, I'll warrant!"

Randel looks up as a hobbit approaches Barliman. "A story!" she cheers, her foot making a dull stomping sound in the snow.

Fiadhan hovers in the shadows near the back of the crowd at first, but as it seems the tales are about to begin, he begins edging his way forward to be sure to be able to hear.

Dwarin stands up, the light of the bonfire dances in his eyes and the shadows play games upon his face. He runs his hand subconsciously through his thick, wooly beard. The ale seems to already be wearing off, as Dwarin has no problems finding eloquent words as he begins to speak, "I would like to tell a story to you all. But not just any story," his left eyebrow raises slightly as he scans the faces of the growing audience.
        "This tale," he begins, "has been passed though my house from generation to generation and I share it with you now." he takes a deep breath as memories of tales told to him as a child flow back into his mind, "It begins like this..."

Nimiwe sits down on a rock near the fire. The flame reflects light off her face as it barely reaches it within her deep hood. She glances around at the many faces and people in the courtyard and giggles to herself that most of them are very drunk.

Managing to stand up, Gerthan looks at everyone gathered around him, and notices there are two of each person. He closes his eyes and staggers off into the cold night, leaving the bonfire behind.

Randel leans forward in interest, barely noticing the hunter's departure.

Randel settles down comfortably next to the lady from Dunland.

Nimiwe looks over at Randel and smiles at her when she recognizes her face. She nods to her. "Goot eve, Randel. Et es goot ta see ye 'gain." She tries to say it soft enough not to interfere witht he story telling.

Spirak sighs slightly, and slides down to the ground, near the fire. He munches quietly on a cracker and waits for Dwarin to continue.

Dwarin takes a deep breath and conjures something from deep within his heart. To the surprise of much of the audience, the stout Dwarf does not being to speak, but he sings with a raspy, yet somehow elegant voice.

                Long ago in mountains fair,
                Did Durin's folk a great abode did share,
                and deep within such a woundrous deep,
                a great secret forever did sleep.

Bodobrus makes his way along the cobblestone path that leads back towards the archway in front of the Prancing Pony Inn.
Bodobrus has left.

Randel nods, then nudges Nimiwe as the dwarf begins, "got a rough voice doesn't he? Make a fair towncrier."

Riflo scrunches his face and begins drawing pictures on the ground with his cane, ignoring the Khazad's story completely.

Nimiwe giggles softly and nods towards Randel. "These...dwarves..'ave a gruff voice. I jus got ta talk ta one last eve."

Abigail sits a little distant from the fire, her arms pulling a blanket around her, she hugs her knees close to her body and rests her head upon them. Rocking slightly, she listens to the story while she watches the flames in a trance.

Randel whispers back. "talk about gruff! This one could sandpaper a grater with his singing!" But her tone is good-natured, no malice intended there.

Dwarin the tone of his voice is filled with such a passion that his voice paints as much a vivid picture as the words do. As he continues, Dwarin's voice crescendos and decrescendos, easily keeping the interest of the listener.

                Like the stars in the night - not a cloud in the sky,
                our axes shone bright and deeper did our mines lie.
                Like the dark of the night when evil is near,
                Our axes awakened our greatest fear.

Riflo begins laughing out loud as he has drawn an exceptionally funny picture, at least to him. When he sees he is attracting too much attention, his laughter dies down slowly to a cough, and he slowly scratches out the picture.

Nimiwe does not seem to notice anyone else around her as she giggles with Randel. "Aye, et sounds like he bae sufferin' from a wound ta the throat." He smiles with mirth as she listens flightly to the gruff singing od the dwarf.

                For the darkest of darks was awakened at last,
                And even Mahal shied away as it passed.
                For in the halls of our kin there rose such a chill,
                And the mithril mines did stop and forever grow still.

Dwarin now sings at a much softer tone. One feels a sense of forboding as he continues in his fine, yet trademark Dwarven voice,

                Deep within Moria it crafted its lair,
                And now there was evil felt in the air.
                And there lay the axes upon the ground,
                And nowhere could a Khazad be found.

                And the Evil that rose from the depths of our home,
                will one day be wasted, withered and strown.
                For the Khazad will have never have died in vain,
                For one day we shall cast out dark Durin's Bane.

Nimiwe looks at the Derwydd as he says her name. Her face pales as if she saw a ghost. She looks upon her friend from long ago. "Fiadhan?!" She calls out with surprise and a little louder than she expected. She stands up and backs up slightly only to fall back over the rock she was sitting upon with a hard thud.

Dwarin his voice retreats to an almost nostalgic tone as he recites the last line of his song,

                And the Uruk shall be cast from Khazad-dum
                And the foul evil shall meet it's last doom.
                For the might of those warriors who died in the fight,
                Shall always be with us as we march through the night.

The Dwarf takes a deep breath as he finishes the song. He quietly sits down, awaiting for someone else to take his place.

Abigail shivers a bit under her blanket, not fully understanding the story, but feeling dread nonetheless.

Riflo begins to fidget on his rock, setting his cane down on the ground and crossing his arms. He looks around the bonfire, and then at the fire itself, squinting his eyes. A few moments later, he begins shuffling through his vest, removing his pipe. He strikes a match on it's side, and carefully settles it into the bowl, before throwing it into the fire. Slowly he begins blowing small smoke rings. Riflo notices the Dwarf finish his song, continuing to smoke his pipe casually.

Dwarin takes a deep breath and reclines next to the warmth of the fire.

Heflin raises his hand. "I've got a TRUE storrryy to telll... *hic*" he replies.

Fiadhan springs forward as Nimiwe stumbles and catches her, perhaps too late to prevent a bump, and lifts her again to her feet. "Ach, Nimiwe, I'm soory tae startle ye. Come sit, and enjoy th' tales. 'Tis fine tae see ye again!"

Riflo is about to say something, raising his right hand slowly again, but frowns as he sees Heflin speak first.

Randel nods in agreement and looks expectantly at the hobbit. "Heflin's too soused to tell anything straight, anyway." she says in an undertone.

Nimiwe takes Fiadhan's hand as he help her up. He looks totally astonished to see her friend in Bree. She nods slowly as she takes her seat again as she just stares at the Derwydd. She says softly. "Aye, et es goot tae see ye. Wha..What are ye doin' ep 'ere?!" She glances up at Randel. "Thank ye, Randel. I em fine."

Heflin, in the process of getting up to tell his story, is cut off by Barliman. However, he's in no condition to argue, so he sits back down and awaits his turn.
 

Fiadhan smiles as he sits beside Nimiwe. As he sits he carefully swings a bulky pack from off of his back and settles it between his feet. "Some o' th' brewmasters in Forthunn heard o' this festival and must come, so I joined th' party." He turns the question back to Nimiwe. "But what are ye doing here?" Then after a brief thought he adds, "But ye needn't answer that. Lets listen tae th' story."

Riflo raises his head in a startle and blinks a few times, fumbling his pipe in his hands. He looks around the bonfire, his sight darting from one person to another before falling on Barliman. He bends his head down and swallows, leaning over to grab his cane. Slowly he stands, nodding to Barliman shakily, cupping both hands over the top of his cane. "Very well then," he begins, "I'll tell a story."

      "My story...is a frightful one indeed." he says, looking from one side of the fire to the other, "And I am sure, it would be of more fright to all of the Hobbits that have come here tonight." Riflo pauses to take a drink of his ale, which he has to bend down to get. Shortly thereafter, he continues. "One morning, in the Shire, there was a little hobbit named Terro, who lived by himself in a long forgotten smial. It was a beautiful morning outside, the sun was shining, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky."

Randel grins skeptically to herself at Riflo's opening words, but she listens courteously. The peaceful scene he describes and the warm fire has a rather soporific effect on her, and her attention drifts away somewhat.

Nimiwe looks at her friend and lowers her gaze down as he starts to question the questions she knew he was going to start to ask. "Et might bae bes' ef we wait till later er leave ef ye really wish tae know." She looks up at him with a questioning too. Her eyes looks slightly glassey as they reflect in the fire light. "Who all bae 'ere from Dunland?"