Combe(#30894Rnto)
 
The village of Combe rests deep in a wooded, stream-cut valley. The village
itself is cut in two by the stream, simply known as Combe Stream. The stream
itself is tree-lined for much of its course, with a gap in the trees where a
wooden bridge has been constructed across the water. This section of the
village is the northern half, and is sprinkled with several houses of Big Folk.
The walls of the valley rise behind Combe to the north, while to the east and
west are the Orchard and Farmland, respectively.
 
Obvious exits:
 Wooden Gate leads to Courtyard.
 Pathway leads to Riverside.
 Bridge leads to Combe.
 
================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Wed Apr 14 02:46:43 2004
Bree time: Early Morning <8:19 AM> on Trewsday of Winter - December 7,1431
Moon Phase: First Quarter Moon
 
 Breelands Weather
The early morning winter air is cold and dry around you. Moist snow, perfect
for snowballs, falls down from the sky.
===============================================================================
 
It is a blustery and cold Trewsday morning, and Bree has been covered in a
blanket of white snow. The air is crisp and biting and a fine mist hangs over
the farmlands of Combe as snow still falls from clouds above. Winter has
thoroughly settled over Bree and doesn't hesitate in making sure everyone knows
it! Despite the chill, there are people coming and going occasionally, though
most of those who are sensible are staying inside where it's warm...
 
 There is a certain amount of bustle in areas as people discuss rumors and
gossip.. One of these is a rather robust woman, chatting excitedly among a
group of women, all of whom are clad in warm coats, scarves and jackets. The
words "Bears!" and "sheep!" Often appear in anxious or animated voices. This is
Rebecca Tasselberry and she is actively partaking in a morning gossip session.
 
Snow! It carpets the roadway, softening and smoothing the many tracks that
criss-cross Combe's single street, and gathers on the white thatch that is Hugh
Bramblefleece's hair ... for that bundled-up shape who comes tramping along the
road, muttering as he goes, could be none other. The old fellow seems agitated,
for every now and then he halts to thump his staff on the ground for emphasis,
sending a spray of snow flying. The sight of Rebecca and friends gossiping draw
him like a fly to honey, and a moment later he's marching straight up to the
group, demanding without even a 'good-day', "What's all this about bears? Ye've
not seen any?" He glares suspiciously at the women as though one of them were
hiding a brown furry coat beneath the layers of jackets and scarves.
 
And of course, Rebecca quickly accepts the man into the circle; eyes lighting
up that she can spread the gossip further. "No! I haven't seen any bears
myself, but, a friend of my cousin, she says her brother was out hunting and he
said he saw bear tracks! Not actual bears, mind, but bear tracks, and bear
fur!" All around the other women mutter and nod in concern. Another pipes up,
her eyes still excited and animated. "My brother were out th' mornin' the bears
were saw! He said he saw them too! Says they were thinkin' about the sheep! I
know he's thinkin' about his sheep! Worried sick!"
 
"Eh ... good mornin' ta ye, Mrs Tasselberry." Old Hugh leans on his stick,
panting as he gets his breath back, before glancing at her companion, the
excited-looking woman who'd mentioned her brother, and letting out an
apoplectic, "Worried? An' ye think the rest of us /aren't/ worried?" He glares.
"Well, they won't be takin' their lunch out o' the Bramblefleece flock, that's
fer sure. Not if I spy 'em first. This old feller's still got some fight left
in him yet ..." The words trail off then, as though the speaker regretted them,
and he adds rather more nervously, "How many tracks did ye say? How big?" He
swallows nervously, and his seamed features are growing paler. Bravado's all
very well if you're not asked to prove it - what if the women should require
him to go out to the fields and drive off bears right now!
 
"Hello, Mr. Bramblefleece," This comment is said merely in passing, rolled off
the tongue of Rebecca- after all, her mind's on much more important matters!
The excited woman rolls her eyes skyward at Hugh's comment, "Well certain
you're worried! Jist me brother's a bit closer t' home y'know?! Didn't never
say you weren't worried! A sheep farmer too? But a bit ol-- Oh, well, I'm sure
you do! And some strong sons and sheep dogs to help you, aye?" The woman nods
her head once, then turns to babble quickly to the woman at her side as Hugh's
attention is turned to Rebecca again. At this, the Tasselberry seems to think,
then raises her hands, making a circle about the size of dinner-plates. "About
this big he said. 'Course, I only seen them once, and they were covered in
snow, but big, yes indeed. And there were tracks enough for at least twenty
bears, or so I've heard! And maybe more! There's been bear spottings all over
since the first story!"
 
"All over?" Hugh's eyes grow wide as ... well, perhaps not as wide as
dinner-plates. Saucers, maybe? A moment later the old man is confessing,
"Suddenly these old legs don't feel too good. Think I need a bit o' a
breather," and he's leaning against a nearby stone wall, knocking a layer of
snow away as his rear finds a handy spot to rest against. A moment's peace
before he speaks again, and then he wonders almost plaintively, "I was goin'
down ta check on the sheep now. Don't suppose ye'd like ta accompany me, Mrs
Tasselberry? Ye know what they say about fresh air bein' good fer a body an'
all ..." Yes, Hugh the Brave is now looking distinctly worried.
 
Giggles come from all the women as they witness Hugh's sudden lack of bravery,
where bravery had once been. Rebecca, meanwhile, is looking rather concerned
for Hugh's health, and of course, there's only one solution to that.. "Oh! You
don't look so good, Mr. Bramblefleece! D'you reckon you need me to get Megan?
Your legs? Maybe she could take a look- give you something for them.. She's
become awefully handy like that...Oh! You're sure you'll be right to walk all
the way over there?If your legs aren't well.. Perhaps it's best if I help
you..."
 
Hugh's face is gradually regaining its old colour, and more - it's now turning
a beautiful shade of crimson. Well, it /is/ rather cold out here ... At
Rebecca's offer, he ducks his head in a nod. "A helpin' hand would be good -
eh, what was that about your Megan? Has she bin visitin' up this way?" Which is
worse - Megan's remedies or the threat of bears? Hugh appears to consider that,
for he takes several deep breaths before levering himself up again.
 
The women perhaps notice the change in colour and this sets them off in a new
fit of giggles and mutterings.. Then, with a series of farewells, they're off;
bustling their way back further into town, or to their own homes. "Oh yes!
Well, news reached Bree proper you know, and we call came over to make sure
James and Jacob were fine: that there hadn't been any bears around the
house..If you'd like we can go get her, it's not very far! But... Oh! Are your
legs better, then?" Obviously Rebecca has never experienced Megan's 'healing'.
 
"Aye, legs feel a bit better now," Hugh reassures Rebecca hastily, taking a
couple of wobbly steps to prove it. "There's no need to go an' fetch Megan,
none at all. Right as rain, I'll be. Now ..." another step, and a smile for the
concerned woman, and he goes on, "Field's over that way," he waves an arm
vaguely west. "Maybe there's no need ta go, think I c'n see a sheep from here -
or mebbe it's just a bush. Wretched snow, makin' everythin' look the same!" He
sounds quite indignant. Less indignant, though, is the quavering, "Bear's don't
walk about durin' the day, do they?" The oldster looks pathetically in need of
reassurance.
 
"Oh!" Rebecca looks as though she doesn't quite believe Hugh, until he takes
those few steps. Even still, she is sceptical, but lets it pass. "That way?
Well, let's be on it then. That way we can check the sheep, and get out of the
cold in no time at all!" Off she begins, taking her large, bustling strides in
the direction indicated. "Yes, everything's rather white in the snow.. I
suppose it doesn't help that sheep are white.." Such insight.. "And.. well, I
can't tell you I'm exactly sure, Mr. Bramblefleece.." Rebecca stops and turns
to regard him. She doesn't seem to pick up on his need for reassurance. "I've
been hearing all kinds of stories, and not all of them involving bears at
night!"
 
Hugh hobbles after rather more slowly, catching up just as Rebecca turns to
face him. "What- what sort of stories?" He blinks owlishly. "Anythin' I oughter
be worryin' about? Not bin keepin' up with things lately - ye know, with it
bein' winter an' the old joints slowing down, an' suchlike. Best time o' year
ta stay in by a nice warm fire, so it is." He nods sagely.
 
And then it comes, from the field over the wall - a distinctly sheepish
bleating. "Why there they are!" he exclaims delightedly, shuffling away to peer
over the snow-covered stones at the huddled forms doing their best to stay out
of the wind and the snow. "One, two ... there should be two dozen of 'em in
there, mind!" Is that a new note of worry?
 
And now Rebecca is more in her element than ever before! "OH! All /kinds/ of
stories! People seeing bears, and sheep running to and fro, and children being
chased by bears.. bears during the day, bears at night.. bears coming into
houses, bears stealing food away when no-one's looking.. those kinds of
stories! I can't /believe/ you haven't heard any! Almost everyone I know has a
story!" Certainly she has nothing to do with this?! "But by the fire, yes..
Except then you miss out on all the news and what-not, when there could be
bears prowling around outside and you wouldn't even know!" (And you'd probably
be a lot happier not knowing, too!)
 
"Oh look! Sheep!" How delightful. "I'm sure they're somewhere! With all these
people wandering about well.. if there were bears, you'd know about it! What
with the yelling and panic and what-not... Is everything well then, Mr.
Bramblefleece? If it is, I'd best be getting home.. my James will be expecting
me.. And Jacob.. with all this bear news, it wouldn't surprise me if he's out
somewhere scaring the daylights out of some poor and unexpecting soul." Oh,
motherly love...
 
Hugh blinks again at this veritable barrage of tales. And there he'd been
hoping for a nice bit of gossip. "Aye, well," he mutters, not really looking at
Rebecca as he continues to count by eye the huddled sheep. "Four ... five ...
what's that? Oh yes, I'd best let ye be gettin' back. Wouldn't want them twins
to be gettin' up ta any mischief now, would we?" No familial love echoes in his
voice, just deep, grumpy suspicion. "Anyways, it was good seein' ye, Mrs
Tasselberry, an' I thank ye fer the company ..." He returns to his chanting of
numbers. "Sixteen, seventeen ... an' there's another two up there, over yonder
... wait! There's only twentythree!" Horror fills his gaze. "Mebbe I'd best
count 'em again."
 
"Thank you, Mr. Bramblefleece," Rebecca looks as though she's about to leave
without another word, but Hugh keeps on talking and she is forced to stay a
moment later. "Yes yes, and good to see you too! Remember to keep an eye out
for those bears!" Nothing like reassurance before parting ways! "Aye, best be
counting them again.. make sure the bears haven't snatched one!" And more
reassurance, of course! Nothing like reaffirming suspicions! "Good day to you!"
And with that, she's turned, and is bustling merrily home. Bears certainly
aren't her main concern!
 
"Bears? Oh deary, deary me ..." Poor Hugh's sounding quite distraught at the
very thought of it, and he gives the escaping Rebecca no more than a fearful
nod before he's back to his counting. "One ... two ..." Perhaps one of his
woolly charges has jumped a gate, or found some corner out of sight in which to
shelter, or been taken by bears, or - even worse - by thieves ... or perhaps a
cold-numbed and gossip-alarmed old man can't count. Slowly his mutterings fade
into silence, and once more Combe lies peaceful beneath its white blanket - for
the moment, that is.