Logs-Clouds of Smoke

Gatekeepers' Lodge

A small room, filled with a couple of tables, a desk, a large locker and
some benches lining the walls. A single lantern hangs from the rafters above,
adding a reddish diffuse light to the entire room, needed even during the
daylight hours, as there are no windows in the building. A constable of Bree
is on duty here, yawning and talking idly with the clerk behind the desk.

Obvious exits:
Out

====================== Bree Time =====================
Real time: Fri Jan 23 03:47:05 2004
Bree time: Mid Afternoon <about 4 PM (tea time)> on Mersday of Spring - April
6,1431
Moon Phase: New Moon

Breelands Weather
The mid afternoon spring air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky above is
a glorious pale blue.
==================================================

It's a fine April day, with only a hint of chill in the air. Outside the trees
are budding, the birds are singing and it's an altogether pleasant day for a
stroll. So pleasant, in fact, that door of the gatekeeper's lodge has been
thrown open to allow the fresh air into the smoky room.

The clerk at the desk is industriously scribbling, but the elderly-looking
Breeguard who's serving his turn as gatekeeper today is sitting in the
armchair by the fire, smoking and chatting ... with none other than Hugh
Bramblefleece. The old man has cast his fleece aside, and leans back in his
chair to stretch out his legs and let out a puff of smoke. "..none so bad,"
he's announcing. "From the Shire, ye said?"

A curly head pokes around the doorway to the Gatekeeper's lodge- searching
quickly, before it disappears again... It looks as though Megan hasn't
noticed Hugh inside the lodge until she reappears. "Ah.. Hullo... I was...
Oh, he's not here... Hullo Mr. Bramblefleece..." Megan scrunches up her nose,
shifts uncomfortably, glances outside and then steps through the doorway. A
nod is sent to the Breeguard on duty and a faint smile lights up her face.
"Everythin's fine, I hope?"

"Aye, Southfar- why, good afternoon, ma'am. All's well, of course," the
Breeguard responds, returning the smile but not moving an inch.

Hugh, in contrast, jerks his head round and the greeting, and is overtaken by a
sudden fit of coughing. The pipe he'd been holding is unceremoniously tapped
out on the hearth, and he shoves it behind the coal-scuttle as though to hide
it before he straightens up again to give Megan a hearty (and smoky), "Why,
good afternoon, Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher. Fancy meetin' ye here! Were ye
looking fer summat?"

Megan is taken aback- not only once, but then again- the coughing, and then the
overly and rather uncharacteristicly jovial greeting. One hand moves to
scratch briefly at her head and she hesitates a moment- brown eyes drifting
briefly to the hearth, as if trying to put together pieces of a puzzle. Maybe
it's all too much for the girl (as she already looks flustered and
bewildered...) for she shakes her head lightly to Hugh. "Oh, no.. I don't
think so... Not exactly. Well, you aint seen Harry about, have you? My
sister's in town again."

At that the Breeguard looks up. "He ain't on duty today," he tells the girl
firmly. "Heard e'd got the night shift again. Yer sister has a thing fer him?"

At those words the pen of the clerk at the desk pauses, and one can almost see
his ears stretching as he listens out for any gossip.

Hugh, for his part, focuses on Megan and notices, "Ye look a bit out o' sorts,
or somethin' - like ye'd forgotten yer purpose in life. Need ta sit down for
a moment?" Gallantly he rises from the armchair, to the accompaniment of a
few groans.

Megan hovers on in the doorway- glancing outside quickly perhaps to make sure
her older sister wasn't approaching as she talked about her. "A thing? Well,
I don't know. She's twenty-three now, and she aint married... I was just
thinkin'... and, well she's spoke of him before..." A shrug rolls lightly
across the Breegirl's shoulders as she looks between the two men, before
taking a deep breath.
"Forgotten my..? Oh.. Uhm.. I wouldn't mind.. been rushing all mornin' and.."
Perhaps realising she sounds the part of the old-woman, Megan pauses, takes a
deep breath and attempts to sort herself out.. "It don't matter... I aint
interuptin' anything, am I?" She questions, already moving toward the seat..

The Breeguard lets out a chuckle. "Don't ye worry, I'll tell 'im she was askin'
for 'im." There's a nasty gleam in his eye that suggests he'll do just that.

Hugh vehemently shakes his head, and hobbles a few steps away to collect his
staff from where it leans against the fireplace. "No no, Mrs
Thasselberry-Tatcher ... eh, ye don't have the easiest o' names ta say," he
adds in a grumble. "We was just takin' a little rest by the fire, chattin'
an' well ..." The elderly Breeguard opposite leans back and takes another
pull on his pipe, while the one tucked behind the coal-scuttle continues to
smoulder.

Somewhere outside in the street a childish voice is raised: "... seen Granda?
Mama sent me out to look for him."

"That's not Harry Goatleaf, you realise..Harry Whitethorne.. Poor Anna's been
put out, I think. 'Parrently she met up with my Andrick in the market and
came home in a terrible mood.. said somethin' about your Betsy the other
night, Mr. Bramblefleece.." Megan says, not yet sitting herself down.
"I know... I didn't want to lose my Tasselberry name, though Mr.
Bramblefleece, not yet, anyway.. " eyes move curiously between Hugh and the
Breeguard, one eyebrow raising. "Chatting and smokin', Mr. Bramblefleece??"

"Oh." The elderly Breeguard's eyebrows hunch down in disappointment - maybe
Harry Whitethorne wouldn't be such a good butt of any jokes?

Hugh is busy listening to the rest of Megan's speech. "Eh, just a little," Hugh
confesses, averting his eyes from the smoking pipe. "Aid ta the constitution
an' all that." He still looks furtive about the whole affair. "Eh, what was
that ye were sayin' about our Betsy? She's not been gettin' herself inta any
trouble, I hope?"

And there, as though conjured by magic, she stands in the doorway, ginger
pigtails askew and her face flushed. "/There/ you are, granda. I looked
everywhere ... why, hello Megan! What are you doing here? The other lady -
Anna - said you wouldn't want to play with me any more, is that true?"

Finally Megan sits herself down, eyes glancing briefly up at Hugh and she gives
an unconcerned shrug. "I aint goin' to tell anyone- you don't need to
worry... And Betsy? No, I don't.. I don't think so..Anna was just--" the
Breegirl is cut off as Betsy appears- her face brightening considerably and
her posture instantly relaxing, as if the little girl was her own personal
saviour. "Hallo, Betsy.. I was comin' to look for Harry and.. yes, Anna said
she'd met you.. and no! It's not true! I still want to play with you. Anna is
just silly, and she's certainly no fun."

At the sight of Betsy, old Hugh clears his throat and shuffles over to block
her view of the hearth. "An' what was all the hurry about?" he asks her,
shaking his head. "Can't an ole man get a bit o' peace sometimes? I can't be
runnin' around all the time like folk yer age."

Betsy more-or-less ignores this, her attention completely focussed on Megan.
"Anna said it was because you were gonna have lots of babies - but I told her
I could help look after the babies," she announces proudly. "Who's Harry?"

The elderly Breeguard, meanwhile, rolls his eyes, mutters something about
"Childer" and goes back to drawing on his pipe and blowing out neat
smoke-rings.

Megan watches the goings-on between Hugh and Betsy- one eyebrow raised in
amusement- gaze sweeping briefly to the hearth and then back again- looking
the girl over before scrunching up her nose- one hand moving to be placed on
her stomach. "Lots of babies? Not yet I aint! And I'm not going to have
/lots/ of babies anyway. Anna is.. different, to me. You shouldn't listen to
much of what she says. She doesn't know what she's talkin' about, usually." A
pause now and eyes glance briefly to the door before Megan shrugs. "Harry's a
man what Anna's talked about and what I thought I could get in touch wi' her,
before she leaves and--"

Cut off again as another figure appears in the doorway- Anna too, has been
conjured as if by magic. "Megan! I've been looking all over! What are you
doing? It smells in here. Who're they?" she points to the Breeguard, and then
Hugh before her gaze rests briefly on Betsy and a polite smile crosses her
face. "Hello, Betsy."

Old Hugh, listening in on the conversation between Betsy and Megan, begins,
"Why congratulations, Mrs-" and then stops, a bemused look on his face. Now,
is she or isn't she? Setting the puzzle aside for the moment, his gaze rises
to look on the woman in the doorway, and he calls out a genial-sounding,
"Afternoon, ma'am. My, it's gettin' awful crowded in here, isn't it?"

Betsy peers at Megan's stomach as though she expected 'lots of babies' to pop
out at any moment, and then responds. "Oh. How do I know whether I should
listen to someone or not? Mama always says children should listen to grownups
- oh!" That second exclamation comes at the newcomer's words. "Hello Anna, we
were just talking about you." Then she sniffs. "It does smell funny, all sort
of smoky ... but funny smoke, not just the fire ..." She scrunches up her
nose.

"I en't having any babies yet, Mr. Bramblefleece." Megan replies quietly- but
at least they aren't ruled completely out of the picture, right? "Anna, this
is Mr. Bramblefleece... I think you met his Grand-daughter the other day..
Mr. Bramblefleece, this's my sister Anna..." a pause now, and Megan winces
slightly as Anna turns her critical gaze on Hugh, and frowns lightly.
"Hello.. You were?!" Anna, for a moment lights up, and looks delighted,
before (in order to not stray too far from her chatacter) she frowns, again.
"You shouldn't talk about people behind their backs. It smells like pipeweed
smoke."

Hugh coughs (sending out another waft of pipeweed-smoke) and then makes his
slow way over towards the doorway so that he can offer Anna one grimy hand.
"Delighted ter meet ye, Mrs- Now, I can guess it won't be Tasselberry." He
waits for confirmation of Anna's name.

Betsy, meanwhile, takes another sniff, and announces to Anna, "You're right, it
does. Granda," she turns to fix her grandfather with a stern nine-year-old
glare, "you've not been smoking pipeweed again, have you? You know Mama says
you shouldn't, she can't abide the smell." Then, skipping over to Megan's
side, she asks her friend in a stage whisper, "Are you going to tell Anna
about Harry?"

The Breeguard in the corner mumbles something about "Too many visitors," gives
the clerk a meaningful 'get rid of them!' glance and goes back to his pipe.

Anna pauses in uncertainty, a rather unimpressed frown settling on her
features- extending her own hand- one that has seen much cooking and
cleaning, but little outdoor or 'real' work. "Well, It's miss, And yes, it is
Tasselberry. Perhaps you're not too good at guessing games, hm?" she
questions, pursing her lips- one rather bushy eyebrow arched in question.

Megan looks down to Betsy and shrugs lightly. "What's there to tell, other
than that he aint here? She doesn't even know I were goin' to look for him
and--" Megan's attention moves to the guard and his mumbling. "If there's
somethin' you'd like to say, you'd be better sayin' it to all of us, rather
than mutterin' about so'n some of us can't even hear..."

Hugh seems quite lackadaisacal about his inability to guess names. "Eh, a man
can't know everythin'," he reflects as he shakes Anna's hand. "Pleased ta
meet ye, anyway." And especially pleased that the ritual of greeting gets him
out of having to respond to Betsy's pipeweed comment.

Betsy herself frowns up at Megan, then guesses, loudly enough for all the room
to hear, "Is it a secret? I'm good at keeping those."

The Breeguard, meanwhile, fixes his gaze on Megan and says, loudly this time,
"I was saying there's too many visitors - yer clutterin' up the place. If
ye've got business here, then do it one at a time, otherwise I'll thank ye
kindly fer leavin' us in peace. Poor Henry over there," he points at the
clerk, "can't get a scrap of work done."

Anna shrugs her shoulders- "I never said you had to know everything." she nods
her head though, and takes back her hand- glancing outside impatiently. "It's
not a secret, no. But," Megan lowers her voice slightly now. "Anna doesn't
know I'm lookin' for Harry, and I'd rather it if she doesn't know." Now the
Breelass glances across to Henry, who- at meantion of his name looks up and
shrugs- unconcerned. "Well, I can tell when we're not wanted..." Megan
comments, stepping toward the door only moments before Anna reaches out and
plucks at her sleave. "Come along Megan- you've been here for much too long.
Good day, everyone." and with that, the older Tasselberry girl disappears
through the door- tugging poor Megan behind. "G'bye," she manages to
splutter, stumbling through the doorway and onto the road.

"Goodbye, Mrs Tasselberry - eh, Thatcher, an' Miss Tasselberry too," Hugh calls
cheerily after the pair as he watches them go. But any hopes he might have
had of returning to a quiet afternoon of sitting and smoking are dashed by
little Betsy, who tugs now at his sleeve. "Come on, granda! We'll be late -
Mama said I was to find you and bring you right back. And you know you'll be
in trouble smelling like that ..." The child dances ahead and Hugh must
perforce follow, with a regretful glance back at his acquaintance the
Breeguard.

Soon all is quiet in the little office, save for the scratchings of a pen as
the clerk scribbles away furiously - and the Breeguard sighs in contentment
and returns to his pipe.