Logs-Wagging Tongues

Inside the South Gate
The Great East Road enters and leaves Bree here, through an opening in the high
hedge that surrounds Bree. Where the road meets the hedge, a large stone wall
has been erected, of well set stones. Under an arch of stones is a wooden
door, with two small windows: one high, one low. On the west side of the
road, near the door, is the gatekeeper's lodge. On the eastern side of the
road stand a few houses. The Great East Road winds its way north, around the
western flank of Bree-hill. The air is cool but pleasant and the ground is
somewhat cool and turning brownish once more.

The day sky is clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead. The mid
afternoon autumn air is cool but pleasant around you.

Obvious exits:
SouthEast leads to Outside the South Gate <GER>.
Stone House leads to Bill Ferny's House.
West leads to Gatekeeper's Lodge.
North leads to GER: Centre of Bree.

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Thu Dec 04 03:52:58 2003
Bree time: Mid Afternoon <about 4 PM (tea time)> on Sterday of Autumn -
November 13,1430
Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent Moon

Breelands Weather
The mid afternoon autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is clear
and the sunlight shines brightly.
===============================================================================

The autumn air is crisp and clear, the sun is shining ... and the coppery
leaves in the tall hadge that surrounds Bree whisper in the wind. The gates
are open, of course, and old Hugh leans on his staff by the side of the road,
watching the comings and goings. Mostly goings, actually - those Staddle
hobbits who've chosen to come into Bree for the day are all too aware that
it's almost Time for Tea. A rosy hobbit-woman with a squeaky barrow wanders
past, and he shakes his head before offering some advice for free - and
unasked. "Ye want some oil on that, ma'am." Alas, his advice doesn't seem to
have much effect, and as she continues on her way he's left to grumble to
himself, and wait for the next passer-by ...

Coming from outside the gate bustles a wide breewoman. A cloak is thrown over
her shoulders and her steps are fast; brisk, her head bowed thoughtfully and
her arms swinging by her sides. As she approaches the gate, any standing near
by may be able to hear her muttering to herself.. Mostly innane chatter about
the weather, buisness, and her children; "always going off and causing
trouble, told me I couldn't make a good mother, but I tried didn't I? Yes-
tried out my very soul I did, and I did fine with Anna, she's a perfect young
lady, but those twins, and Megan! Still in the Shire- don't know when I'll be
hearing from her again- especially not if she's headed off with that Thatcher
fellow- didn't they hate each other..." and on she goes- occasionally shaking
her head and tutting to herself- completely oblivious of the world around her.

The mutterings catch old Hugh's ear, at least. Someone else as desperate to wag
their tongue as himself? From his position at the side of the road he calls
out a genial-sounding, "Afternoon, ma'am. And a fine one it is, for sure.
Come far today?" Even as the words end his brown eyes narrow so that he's
squinting at the woman thoughtfully. Something familiar about the features?
He lets out his breath in what sounds rather like a snort.

The woman stops mid-step and looks up at the man by the side of the road- muddy
blue eyes, reserved and thoughtful (not unlike... who?) regard him for a
moment- cheeks reddening lightly at having been caught talking to herself.
"Good afternoon, sir- quite, the sun is out at least before the winter comes
in... From Combe- myself, not visiting for too long, I hope.." there's
something in her voice that implies that under certain circumstances she may
be forced to remain for a longer time. A gentle smile- one of politeness
lights up her features and with an absent hand she reaches to push the tumble
of semi-curly brown hair off her shoulders.

"Ah, Combe?" And Hugh's off ... "Born in those parts meself, had a farm up that
way. Daughter Sally and her man look after it these days. Goin' out on the
hills at this time o' year's no work for a man with rheumatics," here he
leans on his staff a little bit harder, just to prove his point. He continues
to squint against the sun to see the woman he's talking to, bushy brows
drawing down suddenly. "Got family in these parts yer up ta visit, maybe?" he
guesses, determined to make this conversation last as long as possible ... or
else he's checking out some sudden suspicion.

The woman nods lightly- "Yes, I moved there only a year ago, I think 'twas near
her birthday if I remember- due to my nerves it was. Settled down a lot more
now, thankfully- don't think I could have lasted much longer here and there's
plenty of work for a bakery down in Combe, less ruining to the nerves
though..." Yes- it appears as though this woman can chatter away as well as
Hugh. A brisk nod, a reconsideration, then a quick shake of her head- "Yes,
well no... usually.. My sons are staying in our house in Bree-proper for a
while, usually they're over in Combe with me, as it were..." Apparently she's
not going to give out any vital information without a fight, or being
directly asked.

Hugh raises his free hand to rub at his forehead, for the frown of earlier
doesn't seem to be disappearing. Eventually he just ploughs on, "Yer not the
only visitor here from round those parts. There's been a couple o' young lads
in town recently, causin' trouble. No respect for the older generation, them
Tasselberry twins. Ye'd think that with a sister ta show 'em how ta behave
they'd do better ...!" A brief pause, during which his scowl deepens, and
then his suspicions are given sudden voice, "Yer not related ta them, are ye?"

The woman doesn't seem to ever notice the frown, but continues to smile
politely until she hears about the trouble makers. Now, her face falls and
becomes a scowl of its own- though not directed at Hugh. "Tasselberry?
Causing trouble? How? What've they been up to now? I tell you, I can't let
them place one foot outside the door before they're up to some mischief, and
don't you go telling me Megan is some high and mighty angel! She's no better
than the rest of them! There's only one good offspring in all mine and that's
Anna- she's the oldest and... Well, I'm their mother, yes.." Though the lady
shoots Hugh a firey look as if to warn him of relating any of her personality
and behaviour to that of her children.

"Ye are?" Hugh returns the woman's fierce look with a doubtful one of his own.
"Well, in that case, ma'am, I reckon ye should have a word with 'em. Other
day they were out kickin' balls at innocent passers-by - knocked me right
over, they did!" He doesn't mention that he was quite happy for the
youngsters to target Maeldur, oh no. "An' before that I'd heard they were out
causin' trouble in the Dwarf camp - ye know, we had a whole troop of 'em
camped outside town. They're gone now, which is jist as well." The long
tirade ends, and his craggy features soften as he adds, "Young Megan though,
she's quite respectable girl. Nicely brought up, ye've done well there. My
little grandaughter's taken quite a shine ta her ..."

A curt nod, "Yes, Rebecca Tasselberry, and I certainly intend to! I came up
here to make sure they were keeping out of trouble- promised me they would
and I've not put a food inside Bree proper and I already hear they're
terrorising Breefolk with no respect! Even Jacob? He seems to have settled
down lately I thought..." The woman- Rebecca, trails off, looking like she's
close to a break down of some kind. "They were troubling dwarves too!? Oh my!
I'll have to get to the bottom of this as soon as I catch up with them!" Now
she pauses, and snorts- a look of disbelief on her face. "I'd keep your
granddaughter away from Megan if you want her to grow up like a lady... I
don't like to say bad things about my own children, but Megan isn't all as
respectable as you think. Often times she's just as no-good as Adrian, or
worse!!!" though, apparently not wanting to bad-mouth her children too badly,
Rebecca sighs lightly. "She can be good sometimes though- perhaps she shows
you this side of herself often?"

Hugh looks a little bemused at this revelation that Megan isn't the 'perfect
young lady' he'd thought. "Always seemed like a helpful lass ta me," he
answers finally. "Offerin' ta help carry things, and stuff ..." Then changes
the subject. "Aye well, I'd be grateful if you'd give them boys a talkin'-to.
I know youngsters are excitable an' all that, but seems to me they need a
firm hand." It's at this point he realizes he's been talking to a complete
stranger (more-or-less), for he shifts the staff from one hand to the other,
sticks out his right hand and states, "Here am I, ramblin' on and I didn't
even give ye me name. It's Hugh Bramblefleece."

"Well like I said, Megan can be a good girl sometimes and I haven't actually
seen her on her own of course- I only know about her and her brothers
together... Hardly heard a word from her since she came to Bree on her own-
maybe she's become reformed since coming here, I don't entirely know..."
Rebecca sounds a little doubtful, but after getting such a good report on
Megan, she seems to brighten noticibly- perhaps her work has payed off and
all is not lost! "Yes- well, I've given them plenty of talking's too, but
they don't listen. Their father's exactly like them, well- in his youth he
was out making trouble too, so he fully endorses it all. Maybe if he had a
more active role in their upbringing then they wouldn't be so.. " she trails
off, apparently forgetting the word she was looking for. Now she extends her
own hand. "Rebecca Tasselberry- I think I already said that, didn't I?"

"Pleased ta meet ya," Hugh responds as he shakes Rebecca's hand firmly. "Ah, ye
must have a hard time bringing up that pair," he admits. "Mebbe they'll
behave now ye've come ta visit, ye know? Expect it jist takes a parent ta
keep 'em in order." His hand drops back to his side, and he turns back to
safer topics of conversation: "Anyway, I wish ye a pleasant visit. Market's
doin' well these days, traders all stocked up when we had some of the little
folk from the Shire visitin'. So I'm sure there'll be plenty for ye ta do."

"Yes, quite- though I hardly saw them most of the time- always out and about
you know; Megan too. I'd be about to give her a lesson on cleaning, or
cooking and I'd turn my back for a second, and she'd be gone, just as if she
disappeared, then I'd hear the three of them laughing as they ran off down
the street and Anna would come in and shake her head, and help me with the
cleaning..." Is there a hint (oh, so subtle) of favouritism here? "I don't
know if my visiting will do much good, though they're without their little
sister, perhaps they'll be more restrained... They'll probably go out and
make trouble just to spite me. Honestly, Mr. Bramblefleece, I don't know why
I bother with them..." now she sighs and hangs her head a moment, as if to
recover from this continuous onslaught of speach... then, she begins again:
"Why thank you! I'll be certain to visit, and there are plenty of my old
friends in Bree still- bakers, General store owners and what-not.."

Oh dear. Hugh's head had been drooping slowly, as though the old man were
losing interest in the long stream of speech - but at the mention of the
General Store his head comes up like a bloodhounds. "Well, if ye know the
owner of the General Store ye can tell him from me that place is unsafe.
Other week a shelf collapsed, an' a whole pile of pots an' pans came
clatterin' down on me poor head! I intend ta make a complaint to the Council
about /that/," he announces, chin raised and his old voice defiant. And maybe
he will ... one of these months.

Rebecca almost jumps as Hugh's head shoots upward, though she listens intently
to what he has to say- brow furrowing thoughtfully. "Well! That's terrible!
He used to keep a good clean shop as I remember it, but by the sounds of
things he's let it go down hill, what with shelves collapsing! I think that
maybe complaining to the council is a tad extreme, Mr. Bramblefleece. Perhaps
you should just write him a heated letter stating your opinion and
suggestions that he should install new shelves.." In her tone, Rebecca is
obviously implying abuse and outrage as a part of the "heated language" and
that "suggestions" should be orders and/or insults, along with a smattering
of offensive language..Of course, she wants to sound as though she's still
polite and respectable and would never think of sending an abusive letter
anywhere!

"Mmm," old Hugh mumbles. "I suppose yer right at that, ma'am," he responds
doubtfully, staring at the ground rather than meeting Rebecca's eyes. And
then it comes out: "Thing is, I ain't so good at this writin' business. Never
had much time fer all this book-learnin' an' stuff. 'Course, it's wonderful
all the things 'em youngsters learn these days, but it's not fer an old man
like me. I suppose I could find someone else ta write a letter ..."

"Ah yes, of course- kids are lucky these days I suppose, what with the
school... Jacob Adrian and Megan never spent too long there of course- but
they can read just fine, and write letters too, though it takes them a fair
while... There's plenty about in Bree who'd write it for you, Mr.
Bramblefleece! I'd do it myself if I were still living in Bree all the time,
but I'm not here enough to do that sort of thing, and I'm not the best writer
there is, either. You've got to find yourself someone good and educated is
all.." Rebecca shrugs lightly- she certainly is babbling on today! Is there
no end!?

Hugh nods to that. "Anyone ye'd recommend?" he asks now. "Most folks I know
aren't book-learners any more'n I am. There's that Thistlewool fellow - ye
know, the little man. I'd wondered about askin' his advice, seein' as they
say he has an interest in the Council. Heard he went missin' though, and came
back not quite right in the head." He taps his own head with its thicket of
white hair, and shuffles his feet uncomfortably.

Rebecca has begun to get restless, peering up along the street. Apparently she
spots someone, or something, and a deep frown is set into her features. "Yes,
no, I'm not sure. Ask around- someone will be bound to know I'm sure. You
could ask Mr. Thistlewool, he lives just over in the stone houses there, if
he can't do it he's bound to know someone that can... I'd best be off, Mr.
Bramblefleece- I think I just saw my Adrian run by, up to no good I'm sure.
'Twas nice to meet you- I hope my boys don't cause you any more trouble!" A
nod, smile and she's off- bustling her way up the street, possibly muttering
something about "keeping to one's buisness, needn't go prying in other
people's affairs..." and so on.

"Adrian?" Hugh's head whips round - but too late, he doesn't catch sight of a
Tasselberry twin. Probably just as well, going by the scowl on his face.
"Aye, enjoy yer visit, ma'am," he calls after Rebecca as she heads away; he
remains standing where he is, but he's now scratching his head thoughtfully.
"Letter ... letter ... now, who'd write a nice fancy letter?" Rebecca has
definitely given him something to think about.