Of Sheep and Music

Great East Road: Near Staddle

The countryside along this stretch of the Road rises to the west, as it nears

Bree-hill. For a long stretch the Road runs in a fairly straight line east and

west, before it bends around an outstretched 'foot' of Bree-hill to the

southwest. Both sides of the Road lead off into a wooded, not quite forested

country. To the north, some of the houses and hobbit-holes of Staddle are

visible on the gentler south-eastern slopes of Bree-hill. An occassional wisp

of smoke rises up out of a hollow to the east of Staddle.

Obvious exits:

 North leads to Lower Staddle.

 East leads to Great East Road: East of Bree.

 SouthWest leads to Great East Road: South of Bree.

================================== Bree Time ==================================

Real time: Fri Jul 09 03:02:30 2004

Bree time: Late Morning <10:07 AM> on Highday of Summer - August 18,1432

Moon Phase: New  Moon

                              Breelands Weather

The late morning summer air is very hot and dry around you. The sky is clear

and the sunlight shines brightly.

===============================================================================

It's a fine, sunny morning, with barely the hint of a breeze, and the August

sun beats down on the dusty road that leads from Bree proper to Staddle and the

other villages beyond. The swaying boughs of beeches by the roadside provide

patches of welcome shade, and it's beneath one of these that two figures, Big

and Little, are standing talking. Both seem agitated - old Hugh Bramblefleece

is red in the face, and huffing as though out of breath, and his bushy brows

have risen in consternation. His companion, a rustic-looking round-bellied

Hobbit, is fidgeting from foot to furry foot.

"... an' that's all I saw," the little fellow is saying, with a flustered

glance back towards Staddle. "An' I've got to be on my way, Mister

Bramblefleece, the Missus is waiting on me! It's past mid-morning, high time

for elevenses, an' all ..." With that he takes off at pace down towards the

nearest scattering of smials.

[Megan(#26974)]

 Skipping. Skipping along comes Megan Tasselberry-Thatcher. Today she wears a

straw hat upon her curly-haired head. Something has caused her excitement, or

joy or something along those lines, for it's only that something which could

explain her skipping, and rather off-key humming. Her eyes are everywhere

except on the road- her gaze strays to the cloudless sky, the higher

tree-branches. Yet she doesn't fall but continues on skipping. If the song

wasn't enough to give away her arrival, the clinking and clattering of jars and

mysteries inside her satchel aught to do it. As she rounds the bend and nears

the birches, and the sounds of voices reach her ears, she slows and pauses

momentarily- listening earlerly. Then, as she hears them clearly, something of

disappointment finds her, and she continues on with less of a skip, and more of

a determined stride.

"Thank ye, have a good mornin'," Hugh calls after the departing hobbit, who's

scuttling off as fast as his short legs can carry him - the old man heaves a

sigh, though, as he watches, and shakes his head. Then the sound of off-key

humming reaches him. Hugh swivels round, raises a hand to his eyes to shade

them from the sun and peers ... and slowly a smile spreads across the old man's

features. "Good mornin' to ye, Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher," he calls out eagerly,

before adding darkly, "if ye can call it good, that is." And of course he's not

going to miss up on the opportunity to complain about something-or-other - here

it comes. "Terrible news - one of me sheep's gone missin', an' there's not a

sign of tracks leadin' off from the field she was grazin' in. Not a single

sign!" The old man looks quite perturbed at this, as well he might.

[Megan(#26974)]

 Almost does Megan cringe as the greeting catches her. Perhaps she had hoped to

make it wherever she's going without delay. Yet, with a dazzling smile she

comes to a stop somewhere nearby Hugh, "Good morning, Mr. Bramblefleece," eyes

peek out from beneath the brim of her hat. One eyebrow raises at the news (yet

the eyebrow is invisible and hidden beneath the hat and hair) and involuntarily

her gaze shifts briefly to the south. "Maybe it were E--Never mind. Maybe

someone picked him up and stole it away... though... sheep are a bit big for

that, aren't they? I'm sure there's plenty of places it could have gone, Mr.

Bramblefleece, and plenty of explanations. It could just be hidin' up somewhere

and will be back with the flock when you return!" Now, to anyone insightful in

such things, it might /almost/ sound like she's trying to hide something, but

that smile remains sweet and forever innocent...

Hugh's not insightful - and who could resist that dazzling smile? He smiles

worriedly back at the woman, and nods. "It ain't wolf or bear, that's for

certain - reckon it /could/ have been bandits?" Poor old Hugh's voice is a

little shaky. "There's a few funny folks out there, fellow in the Pony the

other day was warnin' me about them," he adds, before turning his own gaze

towards Staddle and frowning.

"Mister Bywater there was telling me he'd seen a giant bird overhead with

somethin' clutched in its legs, claims it was my sheep gettin' carried off for

lunch. Did ye ever hear such a thing?! Them Bywaters are far too fond of their

stories. I don't hold with such nonsense as walkin' trees and talkin' birds!"

He does, however, glance round uneasily, and moves out of the beech tree's

shadow - just in case it decides to walk - then squints up at the deep blue sky

to check it for sign of giant birds.

[Megan(#26974)]

"It might have been!" Megan replies, hopefully. "Could've been anything, like I

said... but.." She stops short as he meantions the bird, and quickly swallows,

licks her lips and offers another smile- one that suggests she agrees with his

evaluation of the story. "Giant bird!? That's ridiculous! Aint no such thing!

Don't worry Mr. Bramblefleece- aint nothin' to be afraid of... he.. he probably

just saw some large cloud goin' over and thought it were a bird and a sheep..

clouds can sometimes look like things, you know!" Not all so sure of herself

does she sound, yet she continues on, "It might be bandits... maybe you should

get a guard dog or somethin', Mr. Bramblefleece..."

"Clouds?" Hugh sounds rather uncertain too (he's still squinting up towards the

sun), but then he states firmly, "There ain't no b- eh, clouds around today."

Probably just as well: next time, the enthusiastic Torobald Bywater had

claimed, it might be a Hobbit that was carried off! Likely he's scared half the

inhabitants of Staddle with that suggestion.

Returning to earth, and blinking sun-dazzled eyes in Megan's direction, Hugh

responds to the suggestion with a despondent, "Sally's Henrick has dogs - but

he was out in the Chetwood that day, at the cuttin' ... ah, it's a terrible

thing! Not that a dog would stop a bandit anyway." The words pause, and then he

looks round, lowers his voice and takes a step closer to the behatted Megan.

"Ye know, that black-clad feller who was hangin' round town, Mr Hunter or

whatever - he seems to have disappeared all of a sudden. And he was a right

queer one, to be sure. Ye don't think /he/ ..." The sentence is left hanging.

[Megan(#26974)] "Aye, there aren't.. but it didn't happen to--" Again, she

stops short. Apparently she knows a bit more than she's been told. "Well, a dog

could alert you, I suppose... if you were around... but-- Oh! Oh no, it weren't

him..." /Now/ she sounds sure of herself. "Though I don't know where he's gone,

Gla-- Mr. Hunter wouldn't do that.. Like I said, Mr. Bramblefleece- could be a

hundred reasons and places your sheep could have gone.."

"What?" Hugh's bushy brows are furrowing into a frown of plain confusion. All

those half-finished phrases are having an effect, and eventually he just states

simply, "I ain't understandin' ye right, Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher. What didn't

happen to who?" After a pause he shakes his head and adds, "An' how d'ye know

it weren't that Mr Hunter? Betsy told me he was up at the Healin' House

threatenin' another youngster." Mention of the Healing House deepens the frown

on his face - for presumably even elderly Hugh has heard tell of the strange

events of late ...

[Megan(#26974)]

"Oh, sorry Mr. Bramblefleece, my mind is all over the place this morning. Maybe

I'm not makin' sense." Megan pauses, offers a smile, and the continues on, "And

I know it weren't Mr. Hunter because.. well, he were sort of my friend, afore

he left. He wouldn't have done that. But there's other strange folks in Bree-

coulda been anyone!" Of course, she has no excuse for his threatening of

Breefolk, unless she wanted to risk being asked more quesitons and having to

explain herself further. So, she shrugs.

Hugh considers that, letting out a doubtful-sounding 'hrrm' - though he doesn't

pursue the topic any further. The topic of Glaurion, that is - of course he's

still preoccupied with the matter of his sheep. "Do ye have any idea who did it

then? If it weren't Mr Hunter."

[Megan(#26974)]

"No idea, Mr. Bramblefleece. But I wouldn't worry about it being giant talkin'

Eagles or nothin'." Oh dear, "They're just children's stories... meant to

frighten them 'n all... Could've been anything.. Maybe she just wandered off on

her own and will be back grazing before you know it!" Doubleful, yet hopeful is

her voice.

"E- Eagles?" Hugh forces out, sounding incredulous, though it's hard to say

whether it's caused by fear or derision. "An' she ain't wandered off - would

have been tracks if she had, mebbe a gap in the hedge - ye know the kind o'

thing. No, me good Bramblefleece ewe's probably sittin' in some ruffain's

cookpot by now. Unless they've taken her to sell ... ye think they might do

that?" He looks hopefully in Megan's direction, and finally the old man seems

to notice that something's not quite right there, for he adds, "Ye're lookin'

all of a fluster. I hope I've not scared ye, Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher? Didn't

mean to disturb ye ... not me place ... not with ye all worried about that

other funny business an' all ..."

[Megan(#26974)]

 "Eagles?!" Megan squeaks her reply. Perhaps she forgot she'd said it. "What're

you talking about, Mr. Bramblefleece?! Eagles indeed!" A gittery laugh follows,

and one hand raises to wipe at her brow. "Oh! Oh I'm sure they sell them. Or

maybe take them back to their homes.." Then she pauses, attempts a smile, and

then appears puzzled. "Fluster?! Oh no, it's just the weather. Not good with

the heat, you know... I don't see what I've to be frightened of!" A pause, more

puzzlement, "Other funny business? Like what?"

"Well, ye'd know better than I." Old Hugh, warming to his topic (and forgetting

the subject of missing sheep for a few happy moments!), leans on his staff and

looks down to focus on Megan's hat. "I heard," his weathered features are grim,

"that ye'd had a problem up at the Healer's House, with dead birds. Folk are

worried, see - it's not good when critters drop dead right on the Healers'

doorstep. I heard as some folk reckon-" He breaks off, it's Hugh's turn for

unfinished sentences now.

[Megan(#26974)]

 "Aye, indeed..." Megan's attention is beginning to drift. After all, she

originally didn't want any distractions... "Aye, that's all true- ravens, all

with things in their beaks- rue and nightshade.. I don't understand it and.. a

travelling friend of mine doesn't understand it... Might have just been a

disease but-- some folk reckon what?"

Hugh fidgets, shuffling his feet. "Don't want to disturb ye, Mrs

Tasselberry-Thatcher," he mumbles, looking away from Megan, but a little later

he overcomes his reticence to explain, scowling fiercely at the ground all the

while. "Some folks reckon as it was done deliberate. And people are gettin'

scared. Wonderin' if next time they go up to the Healer's House fer herbs it'll

be them an' not a bird that's lyin' there poisoned ..." Even though it's a

scorching day, with bright sunlight streaming down from overhead, Hugh suddenly

shivers.

[Megan(#26974)]

 "Hrmm..." A thoughtful noise now finds Megan, her own brows furrowing in

thought. "I don't think it's anything like that... And I can /assure/ you that

it aint any of the Healers that done it.... But.. I'm afraid I can't stay to

talk, Mr. Bramblefleece; I promised my da I'd be there by noon and the mornin'

is getting on. I'll be talkin' to you later- I hope you find your sheep!" These

last words are said even as she's beginning to hurry off, waving and smiling

Hugh's head is still downcast, and he doesn't look up until Megan starts to

bustle away. "Aye ... well ... good day to ye, Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher. Have a

nice lunch an' all! An' I'll be headin' down the road this way, just in case

what Mister Bywater said was right." He lifts a hand to the waving Megan, then

turns away, shoulders hunching as he does. Soon he's heading down the road to

the south of Staddle, muttering to himself all the while, and the occasional

grumble floats back: 'sheep' ... 'birds' ... 'bandits'.