Logs-Family Likeness

Hobbit Smials
The road winds up the side of Bree Hill, going past many hobbit smials on the
way to the hilltop. The view from here is lovely, looking out over the city
of Bree and the lands beyond to the west. On a clear day, one can see the
Blue Mountains far, far to the west.

Obvious exits:
South leads to Above the Prancing Pony.
Overhill Smial leads to Overhill Smial - Entrance Hall.
Bushroot Smial leads to Bushroot Smial - Living Room.
Up leads to Near the Top of Bree Hill.
Down the Hill leads to North Bree.

=================== Bree Time =====================
Real time: Thu Jan 22 02:58:09 2004
Bree time: Early Afternoon <about 1 PM (after lunch)> on Monday of Spring -
April 3,1431
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent Moon

Breelands Weather
The early afternoon spring air is cool but pleasant around you. The murky sky
is overcast and dreary.
===============================================

It is just past lunch time, and so the hobbit smials are a-bustle with activity
as hobbits go from lunch to afternoon tea, while a few scurry to late lunches
or early afternoon teas- checking their pocket-watches as they scuttle along.
The spring air contains a chill and the sun is again hidden behind a pocket
of cloud that seems to have settled over the whole of Bree- though, at least
the rain has stopped for now. Heavy and damp hangs the air, and overcast and
dreary are the clouds.

Up the hill trudges a reasonably tall figure- tall for being female and of
Bree-origin, though not abnormally so. This is a face that hasn't made an
appearance in Bree for some time, and now it appears she's taking a walk to
the top of the hill. Cheeks are flushed and red- fine and wavy brown hair
held back losely- a concerned frown stamped almost permanently into her face
again makes its appearance as she pauses to inspect the view and catch her
breath.

"Hello there, Megan!" pipes up an eager voice, and a moment later the
ginger-pigtailed figure of little Betsy is flying towards her, from the
direction of one of the smials at the end of the row. "It /is/ Megan, isn't
it- oof!" This last as she cannons into a portly middle-aged hobbit huffing
and puffing on his way towards hobbithole and the thought of food. "Oh, I'm
terribly sorry, Mister, I didn't mean it," she tells him apologetically,
backing off - he, in response, shakes his head, tut-tuts and murmurs, "Some
of the young ones are /so/ irresponsible these days as he goes on his way. At
least there's a twinkle in his eye.

At the name, the figure does indeed turn around- though not because it's her
own name. Upon closer inspection, it could be determined (by anyone looking)
that this certainly isn't Megan- face lacking especially in freckles, hair
lacking in curls, eyes lacking in mischief.. and yet, there is something
Meganish about her... A frown, then eyebrows are raised in shock and
surprise. "Look what you've done! You should be more careful when you're
running, and watch where you're going," she scolds; hands on her hips as
those frowning brown eyes are locked on Betsy, head shaking lightly. And
again, there is joking and playfulness lacking in her voice, which rings of
seriousness and concern.

"Oh." A frown of disappointment crosses Betsy's young face as she stares up at
the figure, blinking. "I thought you were someone else. And I didn't mean to
bump into someone, it's just it's very busy here, and I'd been running an
errand for Mama, and ... who are you? Ought I to know you?" She hops from
foot to foot as she awaits the answer. "I suppose you're bigger than Megan,"
she adds reflectively, craning her neck. "But I couldn't see that when I was
running, you know."

The figure nods and looks as though she would leave now, had Betsy not
continued her speach. A sigh of effort as she now turns back and regards
Betsy quizzically. "Well, you should be more careful. Then you'll be sure not
to run into anyone. No, you shouldn't know me, though you were calling the
name of my sister as you came running up.." Yes, she isn't going to make
anything easy for Betsy... "I am bigger. I'm older than Megan, too. You
shouldn't run. Not when it's crowded."

Betsy considers that for a moment. "A sister? I didn't know Megan had a sister.
She never speaks about you, you know ..." Her speech trails off for a moment,
then she claims, "Megan wouldn't say I shouldn't run. I like her, she's
/nice/." Not like you, is the words imply. "Where is she? If you're her
sister, you ought to know things like that." She nods vehemently.

A frustrated frown crosses the figure's face, and she crosses her arms across
her chest. "Yes, Megan has a sister. Anna. I'm Anna." Strangely, she doesn't
make a comment about not being meantioned- perhaps it wasn't all that
surprising.. "Megan isn't sensible, that's what she is. She wouldn't care if
you run because she's silly, and isn't polite and doesn't have manners, like
she should." another pause, another frown, and yet another sigh. "She's back
at the houses, with her husband." Something in Anna's tone suggests she
doesn't think too highly of Andrick, either.

"You're not polite," Betsy claims in turn - she doesn't fold her arms, but her
lower lip is definitely pouting. "But /I/ know how to be polite." She sticks
out her hand, which is warm and slightly sweaty from the exertion of running,
towards the woman she's facing, and bobs a curtsey. "Hello Anna, I'm Betsy.
How do you do?" Sadly, 'politeness' doesn't last long, for a moment later
she's rambling on, "If Megan's down there," 'there' being the stone houses
they're gazing down on, "then I'll go and visit her - once I've finished doing
errands for Mama. She sews, you know."

Anna frowns (yet again!) and momentarily rolls her eyes toward the sky-
glancing around to check the time (as if she had a million more important
appointments that she was certain to be late for now!).. though, Anna
certainly can't stand to be shown up by a child, and so returns the curtsey.
"Pleased to meet you, Betsy. I'm doing just fine," (these words are grated
and forced, and anything but "fine") "Thank-you, and how're yo--" she is cut
off as the girl begins to ramble again- eyes sliding to where the stone
houses sit below.. "I'm sure she'd enjoy your visit, but her and Andrick are
probably tired and don't want any visitors," (especially little girls)
"Today.. they just got home earlier and have been working all week on their
vineyard. Maybe you should visit another time, hm?"

"Oh." Betsy's face falls. "But I've not seen Megan for ages, and I miss her ...
maybe she's too grown-up to play with me now she's married," she reflects
sadly. Then a new idea comes to her: "I could visit you instead?"
"As I said," Anna replies shortly, hands moving again to her hips and a
matter-of-fact nod moving her head. "She's been in Combe. But, maybe she is
too 'grown-up' now.. she /is/ married, and I suppose she'll be having
children of her own soon and will have to play with them instead..." Anna
comments, offhandedly, before shaking her head slightly. "Oh, no.. well I
don't play. And I live in Combe. And I'm not nice. You said so yourself."

Betsy's head tilts to one side. "If Megan has lots of children, then maybe I
can play with them," she proclaims triumphantly. "I'm sure I'd be good at
helping her look after them. I look after Megan too sometimes, when she gets
ill." She beams up at the tall woman, but her smile fades at Anna's final
words. "Oh, that sounds so rude! I suppose I did say it - I didn't mean it,
honest. I'm sure you're nice really, once people get to know you." She waits
hopefully for a response to her 'peace-offering'.

No frown this time, but a tiny smirk instead. Anna probably has no idea what
kind of hole she's digging herself into. "Oh, well of course you'll be able
to play with them- I doubt Megan would mind at all... Do you really? I
thought that was Andrick's job..." Now the frown appears, and there it stays-
brow creased in concern. "Yes, you did say it. I'm sure I am, too, though I'm
not like Megan. She's still a silly girl that hasn't grown up properly yet.
Why, I'm surprised she got married- she hardly ever acts her age..." Is that
a hint of jealousy?!

"I've never met Andrick," Betsy admits thoughtfully. "I don't know if he looks
after Megan or not - Ma always says that men are the ones as need the looking
after. She only says it when Da's not around, of course," a cheeky, pert grin
flits across the little girl's face. The amusement slowly fades as she
regards the frowning Anna, and after a moment the child asks curiously, "How
old are you then? Is it ..." she scrunches up her features in concentration,
then guesses, "ooh, twenty? As old as that? I'm nine now." She tries to puff
out her chest triumphantly at that statement - of course, it'd be more
impressive if she /had/ more of a chest ...

Anna nods thoughtfully, but says nothing about Betsy not having met Andrick-
keeping her opinions to herself... "Well, my father won't take care of mam
unless she's terribly sick, and I can't do it for him because I'm sick,
too..." A frown now as Anna regards the child- and then, the tiniest hint of
an amused smile lights up her own features, though this fades again to a
smirk and she shakes her head lightly. "Not twenty. Twenty-three. Nine?
Well.. you'll be grown up and marrying and having children soon, too.." Of
course, this is said to scare the child, more than anything else..

"Oh, no." Betsy shakes her head solemnly. "I don't want to marry. It must be so
boring having to spend all the time cooking and cleaning and things like
that. When I grow up, I'm going to travel. Just like that lady with the big
stick I've seen going around, Johnny says she's called a 'messenger' ...
what's her name? Miss Rushfoot or something? That must be fun." A brief
appalled pause while she digests Anna's age, then she wonders innocently,
"Why aren't you married? Twentythree sounds so old!"

"But cooking and cleaning and things like that can be fun!" Anna comments,
before giving a shake of her head. "You sound like Megan when she was
younger. /She/ didn't want to learn how to cook or clean, and /she/ was
always off with the twins, and look where it's taken her!" (What's that
supposed to mean!?). "You want to be a messenger? Bree has enough messengers.
You should become something useful, like a dress-maker or something... and
I'm not married... because. I haven't found the right person, and I'm busy
helping mam and dad out at Combe."

Betsy looks horrified at Anna's first statements. "You mean that if I don't
like to cook and clean I'm going to get married?" What a terrible prospect!
And she's undaunted by Anna's attempt to change her career path. "Well, maybe
when I'm grown up all the messengers will be old and want to retire. Besides,
Bree's got plenty of dressmakers. And staying indoors sewing all day would be
boring." She yawns, and fidgets - she's been standing still a long time for
an active child. "Would you like me to look for a husband for you, Anna?" she
asks brightly. "I could ask around ... maybe Andrick has a brother! Then you
and Megan could live next door ..."

"No. That's not what I mean. But men are more likely to like a woman who can
cook and clean and who likes to cook and clean for them." A pause now, and
Anna frowns again- looking down briefly at the town. "Maybe they will. And
no, I don't want you to look for a husband for me. You wouldn't know what
kind of people to look at. And I already know that Andrick has two older
brothers, and a twin brother. And I don't want to get involved with any more
twins, thank-you very much. I've had enough of them to last my last time."

"What does - oh, you mean Adrian and Jacob!" Betsy's face lights up in sudden
comprehension. She lowers her voice and confides to Anna, "I'm a bit scared
of them, sometimes. They said," her lip wobbles and a quaver comes into her
voice, "they might cut my hair off. But Megan seems to like them, and I like
Megan." Noticing Anna's glance towards the town, she wonders, "Were you going
somewhere?"

"Yes, Jacob and Adrian," Anna repeats (and corrects?), then listens bemusedly
again. "Well. I'm sure they said they would, but I don't think they would
have. They're like that sometimes. They lie to scare people. But Megan does
like them. When they were young they used to run off all the time when they
were meant to be doing chores... " a pause now, and eyes move longingly to
the top of the hill. "I was going to take a look at the view.. it's been a
long time since I've been in Bree.."

Betsy nods at that. "I like it up there. When you're up on top of the hill you
can see for miles and miles," she stretches out her arms and does a
pirouette, narrowly missing knocking into Anna (fortunately there aren't any
scurrying hobbits for her to collide with this time). "And there's a seat
halfway up if you need to rest, with you being old and stuff. Granda sits and
sleeps there sometimes."

Anna nods absently, though finally her attention has begun to waver. "I know. I
haven't been up there for nearlly a year. I thought I'd go up and see if
anything has changed--" she cuts herself off short as she is nearly collided
into, and takes a half-step back, scowling down at the girl. "Be careful. You
could injure someone." (As if a 9 year old could do all that much damage.)
"And I'm not old. And I won't need to rest. And I'm not going to sleep there."

Betsy giggles at the last remark. "That's good. If you fell asleep, someone
might come and wake you up." Her expression is impish. "And I'm not going to
hurt anyone - can you spin round like this? See, it's easy: whee ... oops."
She dances out of the way of a portly hobbit-matron emerging from her
doorway, not a bit abashed.

Anna frowns, yet again- and perhaps it shall be the last Betsy sees from Anna
today, as she now seems set on leaving. "I'm not going to fall asleep. I'm
going to walk to the top of the hill. Don't you have errands to run? I'm not
going to try, look! You nearly ran into someone else." Anna says- shaking her
head and tutting quietly. "Nice to meet you, Betsy. Remember what I've said."
another tiny curtsey, and Anna has turned and begun to make her way back up
the hill again.