Logs-Never Your Fault

Bree Market - East
This part of Bree is known simply as Market East. The street here runs east and
west, with east leading to the Great East Road, and west leading to Market
South. There are shops and stores on both sides of the street, though the
ruins of the Town Hall seem to draw the most gawkers and onlookers. The
street is quite noisy and filled with Folk, both Big and Little looking at
everything available here.

The day sky is clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead. The late
morning summer air is very hot and dry around you.

Obvious exits:
Barber Shoppe leads to Barber Shoppe.
Rubble leads to Ruins of the Town Hall.
East leads to GER: Centre of Bree.
West leads to Bree Market - South.

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Wed Oct 29 01:29:15 2003
Bree time: Late Morning <about 10 AM> on Hevensday of Summer - July 25,1430
Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous Moon

Breelands Weather
The late morning summer air is very hot and dry around you. The day sky is
clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead.
===============================================================================

There are many people wandering to and fro from the main market square and the
GER and stone houses. Megan is out already, and wanders slowly, thoughtfully
toward the market- her head bowed and a look of deep concentraition on her
face as she goes. The basket is missing from her arm, though all else remains
the same about her- except for this troubled feeling that she carrie with her
as she goes. Apart from that, she is no different to all the others who pass
her by on the road.

Unlike Megan, most of the passers-by (both Big and Little) have smiles on their
faces: it's a fine summer's morning, after all, with only a few puffy clouds
drifting past like sheep that have escaped their shepherd - just the kind of
day for a stroll. Old Hugh Bramblefleece, however, stands in the middle of
the road with his chin resting on the crook of his staff, lost in thought as
he stares at the rubble of what used to be the Town Hall. "Somethin' oughter
be done about it," he mumbles, shaking his head as a couple of times. "It's a
disgrace to the town - and mind where yer goin', Mister!" This last to a
bustling deliveryhobbit who's trotting along with a basket piled high with
vegetables clasped in his pudgy arms. The hobbit stops, swerves and changes
course.

It seems that Megan too, almost makes the same mistake as the hobbit, managing
to draw herself up and stop with a start. About 10 different expressions
flitter across her face- from anger, to coldness, to something afraid,
something confused and finally she settles on a warm- though surprised smile
as she takes a few half-steps backward, eyes sliding to glance at the rubble
for just a moment. 'I'm sorry, I didn't se you there!' she exclaims, turning
her gaze from the town hall to Hugh, bright brown eyes dancing over him
quickly.

"Hmm?" Hugh's head turns slowly, and his own gaze focuses on Megan. "Oh, it's
the young lady from the market," he identifies her after a moment. "Good day
ter ye, Miss - Tasslefeather, was it?" Then he chuckles. "My grandaughter's
taken quite a shine to you, keeps askin' where you are. She's off in school
this mornin', book-learnin' and stuff," he adds with the contempt of one who
knows better than to waste time on such things.

The delivery-hobbit simply bobs his head to both Hugh and Megan, calls out a
"Goodmorning, sir, miss," and bounces onward on whatever errand he's running.

Megan's smile is now polite as she shakes her head just lightly. "Tasselberry,
actually- though I'm afraid I don't know your name.." she says, now inclining
her head . 'Oh? Has she? I don't think I'd make a very good role-model or
anything though!' Megan's grin widens at the meantion of school as if it
brought back some memory, her eyes drifting momentarily to the delivery
hobbit. 'Well..' she looks back to Hugh, 'I'm sure all that book learning and
what-not will come in handy..'

"Ye don't? It's Hugh, Hugh Bramblefleece," the old man responds, unclasping one
gnarled (and slightly dirty) hand from his staff so he can offer it to Megan.
"Shepherd by trade, though the hirelings take care o' most stuff fer me these
days. And what is it ye do for a livin'? A young lass like yersel' might have
more use fer book-learnin' than an old feller like me-"

The delivery-hobbit is now scurrying round the rubble of the Town Hall, perhaps
taking a shortcut. Oops! His furry foot catches on a stone, and moments later
vegetables are flying through the air.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bramblefleece," Megan replies, not reaching
out to shake his hand with her own, slender, delicate though covered in old
scars and grazes... "A living? Well- this and that.. delivering bread and
vegetables, though I might be venturing into a new buisness soon, I just
don't know exactly what.." her comment is followed by a gentle shrugging of
her shoulders- the movement of the hobbit tripping and flying vegetables
catching her attention- and upon seeing the scene, she tries to stiffle a
laugh, chuckling politely instead.

Hugh frowns when Megan doesn't take his proffered hand ... and that frown only
deepens as something thumps into his back. Scowling fit to raise a downpour,
he turns stiffly round, and stoops to pick up - a turnip? "Who-" he starts to
bellow, and then finally catches sight of the delivery-hobbit, now sprawled
flat on his front, and surrounded by a pile of vegetables of various sorts.
Hugh doesn't laugh, but he does state darkly, "Told yer ye should look where
yer goin', there. Now - any damages?"

Of course, gawkers have already started to gather. "Eeew!" exclaims one
bonneted matron as she treads on a ripe tomato.

Perhaps sensing, or even seeing the turnip out of her eye, Megan jumps to the
side with a frightened yelp. Now she is on full alert, quick brown eyes
darting about quickly, not missing a movement, seeing every new face that
arrives in the crowd. 'Are you alright, Mr. Bramblewool!?' she says, her
voice concerned. Unreadable eyes fix on the hobbit- though they do not turn
cold. Even an impressed and impish shine might appear there for the briefest
moment but is gone quickly as she looks to fuss over the man again.

Hugh, of course, doesn't see Megan's expression as she looks at the hobbit -
probably just as well. "Bramblefleece," he corrects her without looking
round, weighing the turnip in his hand. "This thing," he holds the slightly
battered vegetable up for inspection, "won't do me rheumatics any good. I
dunno, some folks these days ..."

"Yessir," the hobbit gasps in response to Hugh's earlier question. "These
vegetables were for Mr Mugwort - oh, he'll be so mad at me. If anyone'd lend
me a hand -" His curly head ducks, then he staggers to his feet and starts to
gather up those vegetables still in one piece.

"Sorry- Never been good at names.." Megan says absently, eyes skimming over all
the fallen vegetables. 'Are you alright?' she asks of Hugh again, hearing
about his rheumatics- though something in her voice suggests she's slightly
unsure of what he's taking about.

Something in Megan then compells her to bend down and pick up a few vegetables
at her feet- looking sympathetically at the hobbit. 'You don't need to worry-
he won't be mad...'

"I suppose so," Hugh admits to Megan grudgingly, tossing the turnip back in the
delivery-hobbit's direction.

The little fellow yelps, twists and deftly catches the vegetable in midair,
tucking it back into his basket. "You don't know Mr Mugwort," he claims, "-or
do you? Maybe you'd put in a good word for me." His bright button-eyes are
worried.

Hugh has clearly been ruminating on something - and now, finally, he speaks up.
"Not yer fault, lad," he offers to the deliveryhobbit now. "Ye know,
somethin' oughter be done about this mess," he points with one gnarled finger
towards the remnants of rubble. "It's a Hazard to Public Health, that's what
it is," emphasized with a nod. "I'm goin' ter speak to the Council about it,
I am."

Megan now seems far more interested in the hobbit than Hugh- perhaps this is an
opportunity to pass on her skill, though she can't easily do so and still
appear a good honest person in the eyes of Hugh. 'Well, I wouldn't worry-
it's not exactly your fault, so there's no way he can be mad at you... there
are always a million ways by which you can truthfully get out of trouble..'
she says, now glancing quickly at Hugh.

Her eyes shift to look at the rubble and she nods her head in thought. 'That's
true- something should be done. I hear the dwarves build our south gate..
they're in town again now, perhaps they could help us to build a new town
hall too... '

"Foreigners, the lot o' 'em," Hugh snorts. "Almost as bad as that wild feller I
sold the lamb ter. But yer right, they do say 'em Dwarves have skill with
stone. Reckon the Council'll pay fer it?"

The hobbit has continued clearing up vegetables, though his cocked head
suggests he's still listening. Now he wipes his hands on his breeches
(leaving streaks of tomato-red on the bright yellow) and asks Megan, "What
should I say to him? Mr Mugwort that it?" He's ready to accept helpful advice
from any quarter right now ...

"I don't mind foreigners at all- I think they're interesting! And it's
facinating to hear about them and their homes and their stories...And I'm not
sure if the council will.. They may, if the Dwarves will work for cheap
enough... They haven't done anything about the problem yet...' and she
shrugs, turning her attention again to the hobbit with a warm smile.

"You can say you were in such a rush to get there and there was a tiny rock,
and you didn't see it, and you fell- which is the truth... or, if you don't
fancy telling the truth..' and here her eyes light up with mischief, as if
this was her real area of expertise..

"Interestin'? Lass, yer head's been turned with all that book-learnin'," Hugh
tells Megan, shaking his head. "Bunch o' barbarians, the lot o' 'em. Anyway,"
he glances up at the blue sky, noting how swiftly the sun is climbing, "I'd
best be on me way. Can't stand here all mornin' chatterin'. Have a good day,
Miss Tasself- uh, berry. And you, young feller." With a nod of his shaggy
head to Megan and the hobbit alike, he turns and starts to hobble off,
surprisingly swiftly for an old man.

The delivery-hobbit, a lad in his tweens, looks up at Megan and asks
thoughtfully, "What else could I say?"

Megan doesn't try to argue against what he believes - perhaps she sees no
point. Her eyes move to look at the sky also, inclining her head
thoughtfully. "Good day Mr. Bramblestick..." she says, giving away nothing
that might suggest she's only pretending now to have forgotten his name.. Now
quickly she turns to the hobbit- with almost a sense of urgency.

"It's simple- be sweet, and innocent, and whatever happens, the fact that you
fell over was /never/ your fault, you understand? Do exactly this," and here
she puts on her most sickly-sweet, innocent, child-like face, eyes wide and
almost ignorant.. 'Mr. Mugwort- I was rushing here, and then someone stuck
out a stick under my feet and I went flying- and then..' and she pauses to
draw in a deep shuddering breath, as if she were on the verge of breaking
down.. 'And no one even stopped to help! I.. I tried to get here as soon as
possible!..' and then her face clears and she smiles brightly. 'You see? It's
simple- blame anyone else except yourself- any nameless hobbit you might have
met once in a lifetime.. but whatever happens- it wasn't your fault.. Simple!'

Hugh doesn't turn round when Megan gets his name wrong. Either he doesn't hear,
or he pretends not to hear.

As for the delivery-hobbit, he nods, his round face breaking into a grin. "You
mean like Benbo did that time we were caught stealing mush- er. Uh, I
shouldn't have said that," and his chubby face flushes. "Thank you, miss,
I'll remember," he promises, bobbing his head and then picking up his basket
again. "I'd best not keep him waiting." As he huffs and puffs his way along
the street, a few phrases drift back as he practises his story. "Not my fault
... there was this girl ..."

Megan grins broadly and it looks as though she's almost about to add a story of
her own, but she nods her head sternly. "Run quickly- it will make you look
more innocent!" she calls, bright smile on her face, listening as he goes,
before the smile falls back into that thoughtful revered look and she
continues about her way.