Logs

The storm is still rolling and brewing, lightning occasionally darting through the sky, followed by the low grumble of the thunder. The air is still, but filled with that static anticipation which always precedes a storm. The temperature is cool, verging on cold this afternoon, and, despite this, Megan Tasselberry has found herself sitting on the ferry-dock, legs crossed beneath her- a very sad and sorry forherself look on her face as she stares across at the other side of the water, a fishing pole held absently in her hand, though it looks as though it's about to slip at any moment as Megan's head nods and she almost falls asleep again.

Whistling cheerfully despite the omonous look of the weather, a hobbit strolls casually towards Buckland's ferry docks, a fishing rod in his hand and a pack slung over his shoulder. He seems either to miss, or to ignore, the human sitting at the far side of the dock, as he unloads a few small wooden logs and a short piece of linen from the pack. It is only as he takes a tinderbox from the pack that he turns his head, noticing Megan for the first time. A smile crosses Talvo's face as he calls out, "Hello there, Miss Tasselberry! Didn't expect to see you down here! Enjoying the Shire so far?"

Megan has fallen asleep again, it appears, and notices neither the whistling approaching, the tug of the fishing pole in her hand, nor the hobbit that has sat himself at the other side of the ferry until he speaks. The Breegirl's eyes fly open, and she lets out a terrified "Wha!?", then the rod slides out of her hand and makes for the end of the dock. Weary hands grab for it, but she's just not quick enough.. Mourning the loss of her fish, and her fishing pole for a moment, Megan then turns her eyes to Talvo- a pained look on her face as it's her turn to speak.. "Hello, Mr Fogbreather... Yes- the Shire! It's wonderful.. wonderful wines, you have here..."

Talvo fails to supress a slight smile as Megan jerks await, though it disappears as soon as she drops her fishing pole; springing up from his seat in an explosion of linen and logs, the hobbit dashes forwards to the edge of the river and carefully grabs at the pole, lifting it from the water with a fish still attached. Strolling over to Megan, he holds the rod towards her. The Hornblower's eyebrows arch slightly as she greeters 'Mr Fogbreather', though he does not correct her. "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying your stay, Miss," he comments instead, offering her a warm smile. "Looks like we've some nasty weather on its way," remarks the hobbit, glancing up at the ever-darkening skies, "though I'm about to build a fire to fish by, so feel free to come over, if you'd like?"

Megan seems hardly able to comprehend what's going on with all this hobbit-dashing as if he were moving too fast for her eyes to be able to see. Though- as he returns her fish and the pole- she looks up at him as if he were a valliant hero- eyes wide with wonder and amazement. "Thank you Mr. Hornblow..." she stops herself, mid sentence, then lowers her eyes.. "I'm sorry, I've never been good at names.. Thankyou Mr. Fogbreather!" she corrects herself, then seems delighted that she's managed to "remember" his name... "I'm not looking forward for when that storm hits, but I'd be delighted to join you by a fire- I feel like I've been sitting here in the cold for so long that my limbs have frozen solid.."

A smile starts to edge over Talvo's face as Megan gets his name correct. However, as she 'corrects' herself, the smile turns into a wide grin and he gives a hearty laugh. "So I see, Miss Tassleberry, so I see. Aye, I daresay you've been dozing there longer than you realise. C'mon, then, you can give me a hand finding some little rocks for the fire..." Seating himself once more in his initial position, Talvo carefully arranges the four small logs, draping the small length of linen over them. He then picks up his tinder box once more and turns, offering a smile to Megan as he waits.

Megan, obviously is wondering what's so funny, after all- her head is aching and she's certainly in no condition to actually observe the hobbit and actually figure out what he's laughing at. "I think I have, though I don't remember what time I actually arrived..." she doesn't seem impressed at all at the idea of having to actually get up and /do/ something, though apparently she's forcing herself awake. "Rocks?..." a frown, and she drags herself to the edge of the dock and collects some rocks from near by, making her way back to the hobbit and placing them by the fire, still in no condition to arrange them or do anything more with them.

Talvo offers a sypathetic smile as he leans forwards and places the stones carefully around the edge of the logs, in a neat ring. Then, as he strikes a flame on the tinder box, he glances up at Megan again. "You said you'd found some rather good wines here?" he asks, a trace of amusement showing through in his tone. Looking down again, he lights the linen draped over the logs from his tinder box, and then gives a satisfied nod as the logs begin to take to the flame. Producing a frying pan from in his pack, and a few items wrapped carefully in cloth, he smiles to Megan. "Sit here by the fire, then, Miss Tasselberry. And if you'd like, I'll fry that fish up for you while I try and catch one? Nothing better than a good meal for too much win- for being tired."

Megan has already sat herself by the fire- no longer able to stand or crawl anywhere it appears. Megan nods her head slightly. "Yes- quite good. Ivory and I visited the wine festival.." a little laugh- one that suggests she doesn't feel she's come off much better for doing so-"I must have tried nearly every wine in the Shire!" Megan reaches over and grabs her fish- passing it to the hobbit with an appreciative smile. "Thank you, that's awefully kind..." though it appears as though the Breegirls' mind has begun to slowly click into gear.. "I didn't have too much wine, I just stayed up much too late last night.." wine stains on her tunic tell another story...

"Ah, of course," agrees Talvo in a gentle tone as he takes the fish. He gives a slight chuckle, nodding his head as he says, "The Wine Festival's a wonderful event. I go every year, now, what with the Perch - get some of the Headstrong's best for the patrons..." Producing a small folding knife from inside his pocket, Talvo begins working on the fish, and within minutes, salted, buttered and with a touch of parsley, it begins to sizzle in the frying pan. "Fire's not too warm yet, but it'll cook well enough," he remarks as he prepares his rod, baiting the line carefully.

As Talvo speaks, it becomes apparent that Megan has no idea what he's talking about.. Perch? Headstrong? He may as well be talking a whole nother language for the amount she's understanding.. Still, she takes a gamble, nodding understandingly with a polite smile- "Yes, well, that makes sense..." Though she can't bear to look at the more gorey details of fish-preperation, once it's on the fire- her stomach growls loudly and she licks her lips in delight. "Thank you again, Mr Fogbreather.. I think I'd have sat out here all night and caught all these fish and not have known what to do with them..."

All bundled up, as if to stand a horrible storm, or perhaps a drowning, Nilcogar rushes through the streets of Brandybuck, seemingly more or less heedless to the fact that his attire, some two or three cloaks wrapped about his rotund little form, all capped off with a wide-brimmed hat and a large, distinctly feminine orange parasol tucked under his arm, seems just a little out of place on the chilly, but dry winterfilth evening. As his current direction takes him closer to the river, however, and his eyes alight upon the roiling and rushing waves of the Brandywine in the distance, the lad stops, all at once, his arms and legs stock and still and the little woven basket he held in chubby little fingers dropping to the ground with a dull thud. Quivering slightly, at the magnitude of the great natural wonder before him, his eyes go wide with a little bit of terror, and possibly awe, and he takes a step back.. Before giggling, nervously, and, grasping up his basket again, he continues forward, slowly, though, creeping towards the river with little baby steps, half-crouched over, as though he were sneaking up on something. Naturally, given that his eyes never once leave the river, it's unsurprising that he doesn't seem to notice either Talvo nor Megan, nor any sort of fire between the two, so caught up is he in his furtive little shuffling towards the waters.

Talvo smiles again at the name 'Fogbreather', and then nods his head. "Not a problem, Miss Tasselberry, not a problem! I used to go fishing with my grandfather all the time, on this very spot, when I was a young lad. And this is exactly how I learned to do it!" The hobbit sits quietly for a moment, enveloped in nostalgia, though the smell of the sizzling trout soon brings him back to the present. With a soft sigh, Talvo picks up his fishing pole and, with a flick of his wrist, casts the line out into the water. He apparantly doesn't notice Nilcogar's arrival, as his attention is fixed firmly upon the frying pan, as he flips the fish over.

Another grateful smile is sent toward the hobbit, however, and Megan now seems to be increasingly gathering her senses about her- her eyes widening and brightening to their former glory.. "There aint much fishing in Bree- a bit in Combe, though I never had time for any of it..." what she was doing instead isn't spoken of, though anyone who knows anything about her could probably imagine what had diverted her attention from the law-abiding (and bording) activity of fishing.. Perhaps it's the orange parasol that attracts Megan's attention; maybe it was even the nervous giggling or the somewhat suspicious sneaking, but Megan's gaze is snapped onto Nilcolar as a cat would watch a mouse.. though, she doesn't hold so much of a look that suggests she intends to eat the hobbit...

For the next 'tense' few moments, Nilcogar's attention stays locked on the river that he oh-so-slowly creeps towards, his head down and his curly-haired feet padding soundlessly upon the ground.. And then, in an instant, he darts his head up, letting out a little bit of a gasp, which he quickly covers behind his one free hand, before reaching down and, from the pocket of his vest, he pulls out a scarf and wraps it haphazardly about his neck. Craning his head from side to side, he half-jumps as he finally notices Megan watching him, dropping his parasol, and then crouching and gathering it up again in one movement, before hopping up and starting towards her.. And away, at the same time, seeming to be torn between the river and the human lass for several good moments before he lets out a mournful sigh, and a bit of a shout, "O-oh.. H-.. Help! Mo-.. Monsters! Gi-.. Giants! Eeee!" Seemingly abandoning whatever plans he might have had, the lad flops down on the ground for good now, covering his head and throwing himself to the fates, where the Giant Monsters are concerned, his entire body shivering, though it's very hard to tell under all his cloaks.

"About done," beams Talvo, flipping the fish out of the pan and onto a small wooden plate. He holds the plate out to Megan.. though as the screams of "monstor" and "giant" break out, it's all he can do to keep ahold of the food. Leaping to his feet, Talvo searches for the source of the sound, soon spotting Nilcogar. "Shush, lad, shush!" he calls, walking over towards Nilcogar. "What's all this noise about, lad?" he asks, bending down to look into Nilcogar's face. Smiling warmly, he says, "Calm yourself, there, lad, it's alright."

Megan's attention is diverted as Talvo holds out te plate, and she gives another grateful smile. "Thankyou so much, Mr. Fogbreath.." It seems she's forgetting his "name" again, though attention is again drawn to the strange hobbit with the orange parasol.. An eyebrow is raised in question and fingers pull absently at bits of the fish- popping some into her mouth as she watches curiously- wondering if perhaps this hobbit has been recently visiting the wine festival. Megan turns herself to face the situation though doesn't get up from where the's sitting.. Yes- monsters indeed. Apparently this gives her an idea- and; eyes shining with mischief, she jumps to her feet and looks fearfully the way the hobbit had come: "Look out! I can see the monsters coming your way!!!" Her voice is a shriek, and she even goes so far as to point..

As he's approached by the somewhat older gentlehobbit, Nilcogar seems slowly to calm down, and slowly, after a few moments, he even goes so far as to pull his hands from about his head, and, sheepishly, he stands to his feet, reaching down to collect his fallen paras- But as he does so, he's interruped by the shouts of the mischievious bigfolk, and, hopping up once, his eyes widen like two little saucers in his head, and he lets out a high-pitched, bone-twisting little shriek of terror, flipping about and floundering for a few moments, in a befuddled fashion, before turning to the side, and, his mind made up, he bounds straight towards the Brandywine, not showing any signs of slowing down as he nears ever closer towards its banks, not looking back even once as he lets out, now and again, little punctuated, fearful shouts, "Eee! Monsters! OH no! Run, Mister Talvo, run!"

"Wait, lad!" As Nilcogar dashes off, Talvo hurries after. Calling over his shoulder to Megan, he shouts, "I don't know why you did that, lass, but come and help fix it! Nilcogar, wait now, before you go and drown yourself!" Eyes fixed on the flailing parasol, Talvo hurries after the young Bolger as fast as his short legs will take him.

Megan, now standing with a plate-full of fish seems to have a decision before her. A tiny smirk and a nod of her head.. "Yes- I'm coming!"... to actually run after a dellusional hobbit, or to return to the warmth of an inn with a whole plate of freshly cooked fish... Decisions decisions.. One last glance along the way where Talvo and Nilcolar have run to; making sure they're not looking back, and Megan ducks her head and slips off the dock, heading happily back into Bucklebury.

His short, chubby little legs carrying him at a surprisingly fast pace, Nilcogar strides towards the river unseeingly, the small hobbit lad seeming almost ready to leap right into the roiling and boiling waters of the Brandywine... But, at the last moment, he seems possessed by fear, his entire body visibly shivering as he stands only scant feet away from certain 'drowndeding', 'bravely' deciding to turn and face the 'monster' that follows him, his wide, fearful eyes finally alighting upon Talvo, ".. Oh! Mister Talvo! Hurry up! I don't see the monster, but he might be really close! I don't want to be drownded.. But Monsters! Eeee! Save me!"

Talvo skids to a halt besides Nilcogar, his breath rasping in his throat. "There's.. there's no monstors, lad," he manages to pant as he stands, his thick hands pressed against his thighs as he struggles to regain his breath. "It's a Big Folk from Bree, not a monstor, or a giant, or anything else." He shakes his head slightly at the mention of monsters, before turning to glance back inshore. "And.. it looks like she's gone, anyway. Hrm. Lets go back up, shall we?"

Slowly and carefully, Nilcogar allows his eyes to rove about the riverside, before, still retaining a skeptical little gleam and a hint of suspicion in his voice, he does, however, relent to the older gentlehobbit, nodding, finally, "Oh.. Well, I guess if you say there aren't any monsters.. Then.. I guess there aren't any.. I've seen a really big... Big folk.. Named Graham.. Or Gra.. George.. Or.. Um.. Anyways, he keeps the bad men and crazy things in Bree.. So.. And monsters and giants, too.. Okay.. Can we go have something to eat for second supper, maybe? Or.. Yum! Okay, Mister Talvo.. It's getting pretty cold out here, and mama might get worried if I'm gone too long.. I'd better go in right quick. No swimming for me today!" Giggling, just a little nervously, with a backgward glance towards the river, he slowly sets away from its bubbling waters, heading towards the bustling town o' Bree with quiet little steps, "... Monsters sure are scary, aren't they..? Why, they could be anywhere...!"

"That's probably a good idea," agrees Talvo. "If you give me a moment to put the fire out there, lad, I'll walk you back to where you're staying. And don't worry, there's no monsters in the Shire. They all live in Bree, I promise." He offers a slight smile to the lad as he begins walking, slowly, away from the river. As he reaches the fire he kicks it out carefully, stamping on the last piece of wood with his heavy boots to kill the last traces of flame, before kicking the branch into the river and watching it for a moment as it floats away. Then, gathering up his things, he nods to Nilcogar. "Where is it you're staying, lad?"

Offering a little bit of a cheerful giggle as he observes the older gentlehobbit brutishly kicking out the fire with such a cumbersome thing as boots are, Nilcogar quickly enough regains some colour in his cheeks, and, even after such a scare only scant few moments ago, he seems to be quite swiftly returning to his normal, cheerful self, even going so far as to wave toards the branch as it floats away down the rapids of the Brandywine, "Oh.. Well, I'm staying in the inn, in town..! We just got here, but I hope I'll have a chance to talk to all of my friends here.. Even maybe Bridgie! And.. Snowpea! She's my cousin.. But she has lots of pretty insects that her aunt made her, out of ribbon and things, and they're nice.. Anyways.. There are all sorts of nice people in here..! It's always fun to visit! And no monsters, neither, right...? Right..." Slowly, his high-pitched, rushing voice droning on into a torrent of rambles that seems to speed along almost as quick as the river itself, the lad half-follows, half-drags the poor Hornblower gentlehobbit up towards the main street of Bucklebury, heading in a vaguely straight, but more or less meandering path, his bright orange parasol tucked safely beneath his one free arm.