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RL (Arizona) time is Fri Dec 28 17:34:19 2001 (+time).
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IC time is about Time for a Midnight snack on Friday
Solmath (February) 27, 1425 S.R.
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IC Weather Conditions
Patches of ice cover the ground in spots, and a ferocious, staggering wind blows
from the west on this Solmath night. The full moon soars above the horizon
encircled in twinkling stars.
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Lucky-Tucky Inn
Behold the Lucky Tucky Inn: finest in ale and merriment in all of Tookland! The
inn has a cozy feel to it-- many paintings adorn the wooden walls as well as a
rather large map of the Westfarthing. Behind the rustic oak bar stands quite a
small hobbit, Brant Thudder, keeping busy cleaning glass and serving drinks and
such.
The inn holds many distinguishing features. In the center of the spacious room
is a spring wood dance floor, kept clean at all times. The bar is usually busy,
various hobbits chatting and drinking jovially. Round tables are spread
throughout the room with orange tablecloths and baskets of assorted crackers on
each table. A few barrels of Ol' Toby Pipeweed can be seen to the side of the
bar, and the tavern's patrons merrily fill the air with its sweet smoking
aroma. Towards the back wall of the establishment a small stage rises above the
tavern floor, a perfect place for small side acts and musical performances. Next
to the bar there is a small door that leads outside to the back yard.
Contents:
Isila
Shire Chronicle Paper
Ale Keg
Brant Thudder
Obvious exits:
Back Door and Out
Lucky-Tucky Inn
Behold the Lucky Tucky Inn: finest in ale and merriment in all of Tookland! The
inn has a cozy feel to it-- many paintings adorn the wooden walls as well as a
rather large map of the Westfarthing. Behind the rustic oak bar stands quite a
small hobbit, Brant Thudder, keeping busy cleaning glass and serving drinks and
such.
The inn holds many distinguishing features. In the center of the spacious room
is a spring wood dance floor, kept clean at all times. The bar is usually busy,
various hobbits chatting and drinking jovially. Round tables are spread
throughout the room with orange tablecloths and baskets of assorted crackers on
each table. A few barrels of Ol' Toby Pipeweed can be seen to the side of the
bar, and the tavern's patrons merrily fill the air with its sweet smoking
aroma. Towards the back wall of the establishment a small stage rises above the
tavern floor, a perfect place for small side acts and musical performances. Next
to the bar there is a small door that leads outside to the back yard.
Contents:
Isila
Shire Chronicle Paper
Ale Keg
Brant Thudder
Obvious exits:
Back Door and Out
A silver plaque is mounted on the wall behind the bar. "The winner of the
November Baking Contest is Panadrin Took!"
Isila
Chin-length curls fall in a mess of auburn tinged tangles, who, unconcerned with
the huge ears that hold back the bulk of hair, seem to perpetually stray into
Isila's eyes. Peering from beneath the mass of hair are two watery, brown eyes -
large as saucer plates in comparision to her otherwise small head, their
half-lidded appearance giving the faintest notion of sleepy intelligence and
curiousity. Her body is round, the upper-half made of sturdy flesh while
pudginess exudes in playful rolls that consist of her stomach and legs.
Clothing belies her feminine nature, being tomboyish in style, and covered with
the rips and stains usually associated with young boyhood. A green, rough
fabric'd shirt tucks into a pair of calf-length, breeches. Her cloak is a tad
more ornate - its hue the color of dark wine; embroidered in gold thread along
the edge are tiny leaves twisted 'round a snaking vine.
Emerila folds up a long piece of paper and tucks it into her sachel as she plods
on into the Inn, she looks weary and tired from her walk, but satisfied at what
she's done so far. She looks around at those other hobbits within the Inn and
appreciates them with a bow of her floppy hat. She takes a moment at the front
door to scrape the icy mud from off her feet, then moves in.
Never the one to miss out on the chance of something *interesting* happening,
Isila's head whips around at the sound of the door opening and closing. "Hello!"
she babbles cheerfully at no on in particular.
Never one to miss out on a chance of *making* something interesting happen,
Emerila's red floppy hat bobs and she returns an enthusiastic "Hello!" to Isila
Emerila takes off her hat, head covered with a few flecks of snow and mostly
sweat, her face is ruddy along her nose and cheeks. She knocks twice upon the
wood table where she sits and then stands and pads over to Brant.
Emerila orders Tookies.
Brant Thudder says, "That'll be 2 c p."
Emerila +gives 2 Copper Pennies to Brant Thudder.
Brant Thudder serves Emerila some Tookies with a flourish. He says, "Thank you!
It's always a pleasure to serve you."
The door crashes open again, and with another gust of ice and cold air in comes
Omfast a-flying, only half-dressed. With an angry shout he throws himself at
Emerila and tackles her. Her sits on her and shouts, "Gotcha, thief!! What are
you sneaking around this area at times like these, eh??"
Emerila takes her food back to her table, then stands again and gets a pinch of
Old Toby Pipe-weed from the barrel and rejoins her table, stuffling the weed
into a long thin pipe and lighting it with a match.
A positively delighted smile creeps 'cross Isila's face - hand quickly moving to
cover it up. Muffled speech floats from between the cracks of her tiny hand: "Oh
my goodness." She wasn't expecting *that*.
Emerila erps! and crashes to the ground, her food goes everywhere
Omfast shouts, "I've seen you sneaking around me new hole all right! The same
thing, for three days now! Peering into the windows! Scratching at the boards!"
Emerila shrieks when she gets steamy hot soup on her face
Isila is all eyes on Emerila now; /wide/ eyes, mind you, glowing eagerly as she
watches the confrontation. "She doesn't look like a thief to me," add in
two-coppy pennies for that little hobbit sitting in the corner.
Omfast keeps on shouting, "Confess now!" while struggling with Emerila, trying
to hold her hands down.
Emerila says, "You Egg-splattered Bearded pea-brain! I havent been sneaking
anywhere! get off me!"
Emerila , not being that strong, watches him with her hands down through the
curtain of brown goo on her face and crushes Tookies beneath her bum. Her Ale,
however, has been saved, laying upright right beside her
Emerila says, "What, in name's sake, would a Took want to still anything?"
Omfast repeats, "Confess now! Confess now! I know your face under that hood! The
same cloak you wear! The same boots you wear!"
Emerila looks down at her bare, rather conservatively curly feet.
Emerila says, "I have no Boots you sheep-headed fool!"
"Hey - yeah. What would any good hobbit be doing with a pair of boots? Don't
need no boots." It's Isila, again, making no attempt to budge from her luke-warm
seat. Violence, is, after all, the spice of life.
Emerila gives Omfast a swift shin to the twig and berries
Omfast stops and looks at Emerila's feet. He looks at her face. He looks at the
mess. He gets off her back. He sits on the floor and looks around.
Omfast says, "Uhh."
Omfast says, "Where did he go?"
Emerila misses
Emerila peels a portabella mushroom from her forehead and tosses it deftly at
Omfast
Omfast gets hit in the eye. With the other eye, he looks at the clothes he is
not wearing.
Isila slips off of her chair, plodding slowly over to where Emerila lays. Her
hand is offered, along with a grunt: "Need a hand up?"
Emerila says, "Crazy as a Bolger."
Emerila takes Isila's hand and stands upright, Tookie crumbs falling from her
bum, and mushrooms sticking in her hood and hair
Emerila says, "Queer times these are! one cannot even sit down to a decent meal!"
Slowly Brant is approaching. The flames cast his shadow at the opposing
wall. Like a troll, he advances, step by step. The heavy footfall comes
closer. Omfast looks up. Brant looks down. Brant bends down. Brant looks Omfast
in the eye (the one without the mushroom). He screams: "OUT YOU FOOLISH BASTARD
ROWDY SHEEPHEADED TROLL AND SON OF LUNATIC CRAZY STEAMING FAIRY TALE EATING
MOTHER OF A DUMB CRUMB!!!!!!"
Emerila takes a whole, rather sticky, Tookie off of her arm and places
on the plate she got it on
Even as her head is nodding in eager agreement, Isila's foot pivots
around and 'mouth hangs most unpolitely agape. "Oh my. Oh my. No need
to yell, dear. He simply made a mistake." This time directed at Brant.
Brant turns around, bows profusely at the two ladies, "Please, let me apologize
for this oaf. I'll get you a towel. Just a second." With that he kicks Omfast
and goes to fetch a towel, clean plates with food replacements, and a shovel. He
shoves the shovel into Omfast's hands and says, "Clean."
Emerila gulps down her ale with no further words said
Midien comes in from the square.
Midien has arrived.
Emerila uses the bottom of her dress to wipe off the soup from her face, her
face is red....she has a mild burn.
Isila makes a half-hearted attempt to brush some crumbs off of Emerila's
shoulder, tossing a weak smile at Midien in the process, before wandering back
to her seat. "Best not to get into the affairs of what you dun' know, ma used to
say."
Omfast stares at the shovel in his hands and blinks. Behind the counter, Brant
growls. Omfast starts cleaning the mess without saying a word. Brant
relaxes. After a while, Omfast gets up. He brings Brant the shovel and the
towels. He comes back and sits at Emerilas table. His voice nearly breaking, he
whimpers, "How can I make that up? Oh boy oh boy."
Emerila says, "I'm Going to go up to the Great Smial and have me a quick bathe
and change of clothing...when I get back, have a bowl of mushroom soup and
Tookies at my table."
Emerila stands and rubs her chin, her face looks like she has a really bad
sunburn, and she dosent look too happy. Her hair is brown and mucky from all the
soup. She pads over to the door and exits without another word
Omfast nods, "Of course. As you wish. There are no words to say how sorry I am
for this mess... I... I really... ah, thought, or not, as it may be, that you,
or not you, actually..."
Looking up from her comfortable perch in an armchair next to the fire as it
dances in the fireplace, Midien smiles to Isila as she just barely glances up in
time to catch her smile. Her dark eyes look back down at the book that lies
perched upon her knees, rumpling the green material of her skirts a bit as she
finishes reading over something after a few moments, apparently, and folds its
cover closed and gently reaches to slide it back into her bag.
Emerila makes her way to the door.
Emerila has left.
Tongue clamped tightly between her lips - working hard, she is - Isila gropes
around her table for the last of the stray tookies scattered 'bout her
table. With these clutched in hand, the young hobbit's feet are once more on the
ground...this time she's wandering towards Midien. "ello there."
Midien looks up again as she ties the bag shut and folds over the top, and she
smiles. "Hello. How goes the evening?"
"Good. Good. Fairly interesting tonight, I'd say. Did you see that hobbit jump
the other? I should say! What is the 'shire coming to these days." Isila
wrinkles her nose, signifying that all was said in good humour - really.
Omfast looks around at the other guests. Not many are left after
midnight. "Sorry, people. I really am. I'm not sleeping too well these
days. There really is somebody sneaking around my hole these last days. There
really is." His voice dies down as he walks over to the bar. He mutters, "Some
cloaked fellow. A boot wearer! And a cloak, too."
Brant looks at Omfast and says, "For mercy's sake, Omfast. Get a grip on
yourself. And get dressed! What a scandal!" Omfast shakes his head and says, "I
know. There's no helping it. Will you get all that late night stuff for the lady
I threw down again? I'll go and get dressed and fetch some money. I'm sorry. I
really am."
Her brown eyes widening slightly, the Tookish ladyhobbit blinks a few times as
Isila explains the evenings events. A small grin eeks its way out and tugs at
the edge of her mouth ever-so-slightly. "Oh, /goodnesss/... I must have had
myself quite wrapped up in my work to miss /that/! Everyone's all right
though?... I'd hope no one was hurt." She sits back up in the chair as she
speaks, leaning the bag up against one of the carved legs.
Isila glances over her shoulder, pointing a finger towards the Omfast-Brant
vicinity. "That was him. The one with-ain't a stich on 'im." Voice lowers, head
bobbing closer to Midien's - "He *is* fine, isn't he? Nice...I mean."
Emerila comes in from the square.
Emerila has arrived.
Emerila plods in, her red hair kept in a tight wet braid, and her face a rosy
red from the soup. She still dosent look pleased, her green eyes shine angrily
and she looks around
"Oh, him?... Well, yes, I suppose he is... I haven't but spoken to him once in
passing before..."
Midien smiles slightly, slowly nodding her head affirmatively in reply as the
long mahogany tendrils of curls shift gently with the motion, a few falling over
her shoulders. "I am glad no one was hurt, then... Who was the other fellow?
Left already?"
Isila glances nervously over Midien's shoulder. Her hands twitch compulsively,
fingers 'twining together as rapidly uttered words fall from her mouth. "No,
she's back 'gain. The girl who just came in - she's got green eyes. Dun' look
happy."
A small, meek looking hobbit steps through the door, smiling a small, polite,
businesslike, and slightly nervous, smile. He steps in, and looks around for a
table.
Omfast left the Lucky Tucky a few minutes ago, but now he's coming back in,
dressed and face washed, hair combed, and with some money in his hands. Eyes
low, he walks over to Brant and exchanges some words and some coins with
him. After that, he looks around and sees Emerila has come back. He walks up to
her table, and says, "Well, I, uh, didn't... quite... introduce myself, did I?
My name is Omfast Cotton... Not that you're pleased to meet me I expect... I,
ah, wanted to apologize again..."
Emerila wants to stay angry but....she slowly relents "Emerila Took." she says
"Oh, I see... Emerila? Well, maybe she'll take kindly to his apology - I
hope... Poor fellow." The cheerful smile shifts from Midien's face as she looks
to the ladyhobbit before her, a tad curious at her nervousness.
"What's the matter?... Is everything all right?"
The hobbit looks around, and spots a table in a corner. He sits down at the
table, and, as he sits, a large bruise is apparent on his forehead. He pulls hat
on quickly, glances around, and motions for a drink with a heavy sigh.
Omfast sighs with relief, "Truly, I was expecting this other fellow to show up
again... I was hearing him every night these last nights. I woke up again
tonight, heard him scratch at the window boards, I did. Got up, ran out the
door, down the causeway, into the street, and I saw you enter the inn. And you
know the rest..." He takes a seat at Emerila's table as he talks.
"Weeellll..." Tongue flicks, drawling out the last of the 'l's for all they're
worth. Isila's face scrunches together, a relunctant smile spreading 'cross her
face. "I dunno if I can /trust/ you to know..."
Emerila looks down "Anybody could have made this mistake." she says somberly "No
harm done."
The prospect of a secret? The interst is obvious on Midien's face. "I promise I
shan't tell a soul..."
Emerila says, "Not all that glitters is gold...so its been said."
The little hobbit sits in his corner, an expression of indecision, and worry,
apparent on his face. Suddenly, he seems to come to a decision. He stands
up. And sits down again embarresedly.
Isila glances at her feet, smile growing ever wider: "A friend of a friend said
there was to be a party tonight - with all the boys..." and, again her voice
quiets, barely above a whisper, "I thought I might just go take a peek."
Suddenly Omfast notices something fishy going on at another table. He mutters
under his breath, "Hmm... did you notice yonder fellah, the nervous one? Have
you seen him before? Remember, that sneaky thief must still be around... And I
did hear somebody run this way. Even if it wasn't you, Ms. Took." He smiles
tentatively at Emerila.
The nervous little hobbit, again, seems to come to a conclusion. He stands up,
and strides, in a determined way, towards the table at which Omfast is
seated. Upon reaching, he stands nervously for a second, and says, quietly, to
Omfast, "Hello, My name is Griseldo Boffin, and I...Err...Am a tailor." Here
Griseldo pauses, and then smiles sheepishly. "May I be of any assistance? I make
very good trousers, and shirts, and the gentlemen may like a coat."
Omfast jumps up, "A coat!? At times like these? Hobbit, have you no eyes to see
the darkness outside? There are hooded hobbits in cloaks sneaking around my home
and you offer me a coat? Although... perhaps I should counter-sneak them, hm?
Get a dark cloak meself? Hehe..." He chuckles. "Nay, good sir. Take a seat,
Mr. Boffin. It has been a hard night for me. Join us here for a late night beer
and let there be no talk of work."
"But..." Griseldo mutter, and then, something which sounds very like, "Johanna
can w-w-wait.", escapes Griseldo's lips. But it is difficult to be sure.
"Oh well." Griseldo mutters, and then, turns, smiling a smile which would make
many men think of rolling pins attached to there heads, sits down. As he sits,
his hat falls off, and a bruise is displayed on the top of his head, until he
puts the hat back on with a grimace.
Omfast says, "Cheers!" and looks around the table. "No beer, eh? Brant! Bring us
some more of your early-morning brew!" He grins, but suddenly his eyes pop
again. "Hey, what was that bruise, there!? Your head? What's this? You been
sneaking around outside?"
And then something registers to him. "Hobbits in dark cloaks?" He
yelps. "Figures." And he goes on to explain in hushed tones that he got that
bruise by tripping, about as likely a story as if he had said that he got it by
whacking himself on the head with a wet noodle. Evidently this hobbit had been
hit with a rolling pin!
A small, meek-looking hobbit, Griseldo looks rather nervous. His eyes are wide
and round, forever surprised, and further enlarged by a pair of glasses; he has
sandy hair, and brown eyes. He is unhealthily thin (for a hobbit) and wears a
dark green waistcoat (which has seen much better days). He wears a set of
expertly patched trousers; one might almost think they weren't patched or
mended, if one did not look closely. He wears an empty pipeweed pouch at his
belt, and has a pipe which apears long unused.
Omfast looks at Griseldo, confused. "What's the matter with you?" he asks. "You
tripped and got that bruise? Where did you trip? How did you fall? Why didn't
you mend it? Whee, maybe you need to see healer about that! And let me see your
feet! Do you have boots on??"
Midien turns a carefully cautious glance around at the other hobbits around the
room, and then looks back to Isila, whispering almost silently. "...It's not the
one that's supposed to be in Bywater, is it?... I heard my cousin Orrin talking
about it yesterday..."
Eyes light up - "Yes!" the sound of Isila's own voice startling her into a
pregnant silence, before: "Yeah. That's one all right."
Griseldo looks increasingly nervous, and finally said, "I don't have boots on, I
fell of a bridge, and my wife, I mean there isn't anything to mend...Oh, dear."
And he takes a large swallow of beer, and, as a result, starts into an extremely
large fit of coughing. His clothes are completely dry.
A *distinctly* mischevious glimmer sparks in the mid-tweenager's bright eyes and
she grins, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees to be able to
speak quieter with her newfound friend. "... /OH/, that does sound like good
fun... I -"
She bites her lip for a moment for a nervous moment with a HUGE grin apparent on
her face. "... I mean, I know I shoudln't because my mother will have a
/fit/... but..." She pauses once more before winking. "... Is there room for
another member in the invading party?"
"Why, /of course/." Isila offers up generously, perhaps even a little bit of
relief tinging her voice - "The more the merrier - it /will/ be fun. We'll give
those boys somethin' to look at 'sides the bottom of a cup."
Omfast stares at the Boffin and says, "Well, all is well, then I guess." He
pauses and looks around. Not many people left. "I think I will have to go,
now. It's growing much too late, now." With that, he gets up.
Griseldo is almost too busy sighing in relief to wave a small goodbye, and then
sits back down, and keeps on drinking his beer.
Midien giggles a bit excitedly before she manages to quiet herself into calm
cautiousness and a placid demeanor and expression, save the unfading shimmer in
her large eyes as she whispers in an extremely hushed voice to Isila. "Thank
you! And that we will... Actually... I think I have the perfect disgise for the
occasion back at Great Smials..."
Omfast leaves after paying his due and darkly scanning everybody's feet...
(
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