The Bakery(#28212R)
This is a smaller adobe-type structure, with wood and whitewashed walls
intermingled to give a rustic but clean effect. The windows are hewn in a
softened round design, showing the walls to be quite thick and insulated. The
counter of this establishment is dual-tiered, one standing at about 2 feet and
the other at about 4, and the deck behind the counter includes a set of stairs
for the bakers to tend to customers of all heights. The ceiling is sloped
upwards towards the higher-countered side, and there is a back room behind the
counter with large wrought-iron oven doors set into the adobe.
 
There is bread on racks in the rear, as well as pastries and confections of all
sorts, and the smell in this place is perpetually divine, if a little floury.
There is a large sign on the wall near the door.
 
<OOC> Type 'bhelp' for help with the Bakery Menu.
 
Obvious exits:
Out
 
 Menu of The Bakery
==============================================================================
*** All Items ***
Apple Pie * 6 OUT Blueberry Pie * 5 cp
Mincemeat Pie * 5 OUT Muffin * 1 cp
Pastry * 4 cp Peach Pie *  6 OUT
Potato Rolls * 1 cp Pumpkin Pie * 5 OUT
Rye Loaf * 2 cp Wheat Loaf * 2 cp
White Loaf * 3 cp
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* Items that can be 'inspect'.
 
================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Thu Apr 08 02:48:16 2004
Bree time: Early Morning <8:24 AM> on Highday of Autumn - November 19,1431
Moon Phase: Waning Gibbous Moon
 
 Breelands Weather
The early morning autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The murky sky is
overcast and dreary.
===============================================================================
 
Morning has come again ... unfortunately for Bree, the November skies are
leaden and the knife-sharp wind is icy. Could there be snow in the offing?
Certainly the passers-by in the Market mutter and huddle deeper into their
coats and scarves as they tramp along. The warm air and aroma of fresh bread
coming from the bakery are doubly inviting on a day like this.
 
Old Hugh Bramblefleece is one of the would-be customers - as he shuts the door
behind him, leaning on it to get his breath back, he grumbles loudly, "Can't
feel me nose any more. Wouldn't surprise me if it were frostbit." He reaches
for a spotted handkerchief to dab at his watering eyes, and adds plaintively,
"Can't even smell that there bread." He gazes longingly towards the massed rows
of shelves.
 
Turning as Hugh enters, Megan's gaze falls instantly on his nose. She /is/ a
healer after all. Without even offering him a greeting, she shakes her head
vigorously. "Nah Mr. Bramblefleece, it aint frost-bit. Just a little cold by my
reckoning." Her voice is one of a professional healer- one expert at her craft
(though, anyone that has ever had to experience her healing knows better than
to believe her tones). "And if you en't able to smell.. 's probably just the
comin' of a cold, or flu or somethin'. Should just stay rugged up 'n inside if
you can." Now she gives a sharp nod and reaches up as the baker hands her a
paper bag full of warm pastries.
 
"Are ye sure? What colour is it?" Hugh reaches up a trembling hand to feel his
(rather red) nose as though to check it's still there. "I-" Whatever else he
might have said is cut short, for at that moment the door opens and the old man
staggers forward with a yelp, staff flying from his hand. By windmilling his
arms he manages to keep his balance, and a moment later he's glaring in search
of the source of this rude disturbance. "Mind what yer doin'. Jist what d'ye
think-" The words break off as he realizes he has to drop his gaze /down/. The
hatted and mufflered hobbit-lad looks properly repentant, and a moment later
Hugh is offering in embarrassed fashion, "Eh, well ... never mind."
 
"I'm sure, though it's a bit red.." Megan seems to ponder on this new
information for a moment, before inspiration strikes; "Maybe it's infected! You
should probably take it up to the Healer's House, Mr. Bramblefleece- get it
taken a look at!" Well, perhaps Megan's a bit over enthusiastic about her job,
but at least she's /trying/ to help.. right? And then, disaster strikes! "It's
just a hobbit, Mr. Bramblefleece! No need to get angry now!"
 
"Sorry 'bout that, little sir," Hugh offers the poor hobbit-lad with a weak
smile and a step back. "Ye jist took me off guard. Now - where's me staff?" A
moment later he's scrabbling around the dusty floor trying to find it. As he
does, he call loudly over his shoulder to Megan, "Infected? What d'ye mean,
'infected'?" A few of the other bakery's customers eye Hugh warily and start to
draw back in alarm.
 
Was her her comment merely a practical joke? Made for the sole purpose to alarm
the old man? If so, she's certainly doing a good job of hiding it- hardly a
hint of a smile finding her lips as the bakery customers begin to back away.
"Staff's just there, near your feet, Mr. Bramblefleece.." A pause as she moves
as if to further inspect his nose when he stands again. "Well.. 's just lookin'
a bit red, y'know.. Sometimes, when people get pricked by things, or bit by
somethin', their fingers or arms all go red, just like your nose there.."
 
 The door of the bakery opens, again letting in an icy blast of air, and in
comes Andrick, carrying a small barrel under one arm, and dressed in his thick
leather coat. He smiles at Megan, and nods to Hugh, and makes for the counter,
picking his way around the hobbit and various other living obstacles, clearly
in a hurry to set the barrel down. He says to the man behind it, "'ere y'are
Mr. 'ardwood. I'll come round yer 'ouse later fer the payment, if that's
alright." The baker nods enthusiastically, and Andrick hefts the barrell over
the counter to him. He then turns, breathless, and walks towards Hugh and
Megan. Standing beside Megan, he says, "Mornin' Mr. Bramblefleece. Is it that
yer've 'ad a drop of our wine yet? It's fresh an' new yet, but it's pleasant
enough. Doubtless it'll be nicer when it's 'ad a while to sit, but, can't 'ave
yer wine an' drink it, eh?" He grins, and winks, and adds, "'Course, we'd not
charge yer if yer wanted some, eh Meg?"
 
A hobbit-matron peers suspiciously across the room in Hugh's direction, and
remarks to the baker's apprentice serving her, "That man doesn't look well, you
know. Crawling round the floor like that. If I were you I'd not have him near
the goods, might scare folk away, after all." She gives him a knowing look.
"Ah, and here's my muffins. Thank you!" With that she's whisking briskly out of
the shop, giving Hugh as wide a berth as possible and barely missing the
barrel-hefting Andrick.
 
By the time Hugh's fingers are curled round his staff again, the mysterious
barrel has been handed over. The old man glances curiously in that direction as
he rises to his feet (with a painful grunt, of course), then demands of Megan.
"Bit by somethin'? Think I'd know if somethin' came an' took a bite out of me
own nose." His gaze sliding to Andrick, he adds, "And I'm not much of a one for
w- oh." Free? Did he say free? "I reckon I might like to give the stuff a try,"
he amends in a much more friendly tone. "Support local business an' all. An'
speakin' of business, I've not forgit that offer I made ta ye a while back, Mr
Thatcher. Bramblefleece sheep did well at market this year."
 
Distracted by the opening door, Megan offers a smile to Andrick, and then
returns to the conversation with Hugh. "Nono, I don't mean you've been bit..
But.. well, maybe the cold makes it infected? Either way, I reckon they'd have
somethin' good up there to sniff at, or some teas or somethin' to drink.." A
pause now, as Andrick too starts speaking of drinking. "Aye, we'd not charge
him! You're welcome to it and-- Offer? What offer?" Voice now laced with
suspicion, she glances between the two men...
 
 Andrick nods, and says, "S'good of yer Mr. Bramblefleece, I'm sure we can find
one o' those barrels to spare fer yer." He then looks at Megan, and nods,
saying, "Aye, I 'ave to a'mit, I can't recall yer offer, neither. Bin at these
vines the past few weeks, an', well, yer know 'ow it is, Mr. Bramblefleece, one
thing an' another, it pushes things out o' the mind, as it were."
 
The hobbit baker's apprentice trots over to murmur something to the taller
baker Andrick had dealt with, pointing worriedly at Hugh as he does.
 
The old man seems oblivious to that, but at Megan's mention of sniffing he
gives a loud one himself. "Ye know ... think me sense of smell is comin' back.
I can smell ... taters! Tater scones or summat like that." He beams, clearly
proud of himself. "So there's no need fer me ta go up ta the healer's house -
not that it wasn't kind of ye to offer, Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher," he adds
hastily. Perhaps he'd rather not be poked and prodded by an eager Megan, or
made to sniff foul-smelling concoctions?
 
Looking to Andrick now, his craggy brows draw down in a frown as though he
himself were trying to recall exactly what he'd offered. At last he volunteers.
"It were about the house. I said that if ye were goin' ta rebuild, I'd give a
little contribution, since an old man can't help out with all that liftin' and
carryin' and stuff." (Unless it's pigs being lifted, of course.) "Set somethin'
aside, I did. Course, if yer not goin' ta rebuild that house it ain't needed."
He gives another sniff, and his nose must have unblocked, for it turns now
toward the bakery counter.
 
"Oh.." Poor Megan looks a tad disappointed that she won't recieve another
patient today. Well, there's plenty of time left to injure people and have to
send them up there on another occasion, after all. "OH, well.. it's good you
en't sickly anyway, though if it gets any worse, or any redderer, then make
sure you go up there Mr. Bramblefleece! We wouldn't want your nose fallin'
off'v your face on account of the cold and that you didn't think you /was/
sickly, even though you was.. sickly..' Now Megan too scratches her head,
shrugs, and takes a step toward the door.
 
 "And that's mighty kind of you, Mr. Bramblefleece, to offer somethin' like
that.. But I reckon with winter comin' on, we en't goin' to be able to do much
buildin' until the foul weather clears up.. But after then, any donations'd be
required.. But.. that's what I reckon.. I don't even know anythin' about
buildin' houses.. Maybe the snow and rain and cold don't matter to men-folks
who're busy outdoors makin' houses..Either way, speakin' of cold, I'd best get
out in it myself.. find a sheltered little area and eat my pastries. Have a
good day, Mr. Bramblefleece... I'll be seein' you later, Andrick.." And,
pausing to wave, she clutches the bag in hand, draws up her scarf and pushes
open the door.. stepping outside a moment later.
 
 Andrick nods to Hugh, and says, "Oh, aye, I remember now. Aye, it's plenty
gen'rous of yer Mr. Bramblefleece, though, as Meg says, we'll not be startin'
buildin' owt 'til the new year, at least. Prob'ly not 'til later on in Spring.
Not that we couldn't, jus' that while we've somewhere to live, there's no need
to be out 'urtin' ourselfs buildin' when we've already a place to live, if yer
follow." He nods, and says, "Thanks again, though, I'll remember that when we
start." He smiles, and then calls, "'Ang about Meg, I'll come with yer!" He
turns to Hugh, and says, "I'll bring over a barrel later on then." And with
that he steps outside behind Megan, following after her.
 
One remark of Megan's gives Hugh pause. "Sickly? What d'ye mean. I'm not ...
sickly?" Oh dear. The poor old fellow's getting worried now, for he raises his
hand to rub at his nose again. "Feel right as rain," he murmurs stubbornly -
but he's not unaware of the glances that a few of the bakery customers are
giving him by now. After all, if a Healer thinks he's not well ...
 
Belatedly he manages to wave at the departing Thatchers, calling after them,
"Have a good day an' all!" then he's turning back to the baker. "I'll have some
of those tater scones, if ye please - why, ye're very fast with the service!"
For at the mere mention of the 'tater scones' the baker has scooped a handful
of them into a bag and is holding them out at arm's length. Poor Hugh - looks
like they're eager for him to begone. Ah, the perils of complaining ...