Logs-Penny for the Guy?

GER: Centre of Bree
The Great East Road wraps itself around the bottom of Bree-hill. The Road bends
northwest as it skirts around the base of the hill. Where the Road clears the
hill, it straightens out and runs in a line toward the South Gate. To the
northwest, a short distance along the Road, a large inn is visible. To the
south, the gate stands open.

The day sky is clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead. The midday
spring air is cool but pleasant around you.

Obvious exits:
East leads to Stone Houses.
West leads to Bree Market - East.
NorthWest leads to At the Sign of the Prancing Pony.
South leads to Inside the South Gate.

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Thu Feb 05 02:23:17 2004
Bree time: Midday <12:09 PM (noon)> on Monday of Spring - May 15,1431
Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous Moon

Breelands Weather
The midday spring air is cool but pleasant around you. The day sky is clear
with only slight wisps of clouds overhead.
===============================================================================

It has just barely hit the hour of noon in the central core of Bree, yet one
needn't be by a clock to see it was such. Natives from this crossroads towne
pour out onto the streets from their jobs and chores to fill their stomachs
with lunch. The brilliant yellow rays of the Sun beam down across the ground,
and only a light breeze occasionally swings through the cool air.

One such fellow, albeit a ruffianly and foreign looking type, walks
northwestward along this road from the south gate. His gaze and posture gleam
of arrogance as the thug proceeds to wherever his distance may lay.

One of those beginning their hurried journey is Megan Tasselberry-Thatcher and
from the western side of the town she hurries onward to the stone houses- a
spring in her step, basket on her arm, eyes shining and face flushed with
life and energy... Stepping onto the road now, and nearly dead in the centre
of Bree, the life and energy fades from her cheeks as those eyes pass over
the people coming to and fro, and then spy Saevern.. Quickly the gaze is
averted and sent ground-ward and instantly her whole stance and walk changes-
head is bowed and she seems to close in on herself- hands being shoved into
pockets and her step quickening-- perhaps she'll make it to the other side of
the road and saftey yet!

Alas, if Megan was hoping to pass unidentified her hopes are to be dashed. A
little girl of about eight or nine with a blue dress and a pair of ginger
pigtails streaming behind her comes flying down the slope from the Pony,
rolling a hoop as she goes. the moment her eyes light on the basket-carrying
figure, her whole stance changes. She rushes forward, waving her arms and
shouting at the top of her voice, "Megan! Megan! Is that you?" The hoop rolls
on alone, completely forgotten.

The little girl's cries certainly catch the attention of the ruffian, and his
dull eyes quickly roam to spot the brown-haired lass Megan that Saevern has
come to know, perhaps too well for Megan's comfort. Seeing this as an
opportunity that cannot be missed, the marauder swiftly moves to intercept
the young Breelander, calling as he does. "Hullo there!"

Megan hesistates in her stride at the girl's call, then she looks as though she
will continue on... but, intercepted now, she draws up and stops- sighing
softly before finding herself a confident and dazzling smile which she
directs first toward Saevern (though it is intentionally made to look more
fake than her skill allows), and then one more genuine and friendly is sent
to Betsy- whom she greets first with a bright: "Hullo, Betsy! It's me,
yes..." And then to Saevern- over-confidence in her voice (perhaps to hide
any nervousness at the encounter) though much lacking in enthusiasm she
greets him too with a simple: "Good afternoon."

The little girl, Betsy, skips cheerily up to Megan, and beams back. "I haven't
seen you for /ages/. What have you been doing? I've got a new hoop - well, I
did." The hoop has rolled to a stop further down the road, narrowly missing a
pedestrian judging by the tut-tutting.

To Saevern she responds with a cheery, "Hello. Are you one of Megan's friends?"
And then she takes a second look at the man and her mouth drops wide open.
"Why are you wearing those funny clothes?" she demands of him innocently.

As Saevern arrives within proximity of Megan and the little girl, his
impatience shows at the small one's presence. "Because I stole them from your
father. Off with you, twit!" The last sentence is uttered in a rough tone,
seemingly meant to frighten the lass off. Sighing, frustration evident, the
ruffian begins to speak with Megan, though his tone is filled with pompous
sarcasm. "We oughta' have a bit of a talk in a quiet like place. You have
some debts to me, see? Its best we talk business."

"I haven't been doin' anything.. Except for plannin' the spring dance.." Megan
replies to Betsy's question- though her voice has (for the moment) lost its
excitement.. even the pretend excitement she uses while talking with the
child has not yet found its way into her tone.. At the meantion of the hoop,
the Breegirl glances up- an amused smile on her lips. "That's ni--" Of
course, cut off by Saevern, she turns to him with a frown. "Don't tell her to
go anywhere- you're the stranger in this town, not us. Remember that." Though
she attempts to hold some kind of authority in her voice, her supposed
confidence begins to diminish.. "A bit of a 'talk'? And debts? I have no
debts. I'd rather not." she replies- folding her arms over her chest and
looking as though he'd have to drag her, would he want to take her anywhere..

Saevern's response isn't quite what Betsy was expecting. She digests it in
silence for a moment, then pipes up, "You never did! Da's a butcher - he
wears an apron, not wear funny clothes like that." She moves off to collect
her hoop, sticking her tongue out behind Saevern's back as she does.

Saevern cares only to give the small girl have a glance as she walks off in
search of her toy, but he quickly goes to work on Megan now that he can
divert his entire attention to her. "Ah, you do, lady. Remember when I helped
your fine husband up when he was on the ground? Did your find husband tell
ya' about that?" He pauses for a moment, taking another step forward and
peering downward at Megan with his colourless eyes. "Well he owes me more for
that, see? And I reckon if you ain't willing to chat I can pay him a visit..."

Megan's eyes follow Betsy as she leaves- reluctant to be left here alone with
this man, though apparently enough is enough, and Megan appears no longer
intimidated (or maybe this is just another attempt at figuring this stranger
out and get the upper hand...), but instead stares back defiantly; challenge
in her eyes.. "He did, but he also said he gave you money. And, I doubt
muchly, sir, that you can expect much more than what he has already given
you, since it cost you /nothing/ to help him up in the first place."

By this time Betsy has picked up her hoop and is trudging back along the road
towards the conversing pair. Sensing some tension in the air, perhaps, she
stops uncertainly and then takes a few more steps forward, tilting her head
to listen but (for once!) not saying a word. The hoop is clutched tightly
between her hands.

"No! No!" Cries the ruffian satirically, a wide grin on his face. "It cost me
more than this mail-shirt!" He continues, patting his hauberk and causing his
heavy armour to clink. "He touched and grabbed my axe, see? Well, if you knew
better, I had to go off and get it fixed by some blacksmiths, because he
broke it, see? So, you do owe me a few coins, I reckon."

Eyes dart nervously once to Betsy as she approaches- perhaps Megan seeks
support (in a child?) or perhaps she doesn't want the girl to hear this
conversation between her and Saevern... One eyebrow is raised as he speaks,
though she is obviously disbelieving, and stands her ground. "Perhaps you
should have offered a hand then, instead of an axe, or perhaps you should
have bought a better axe originally.. either way, you en't gettin' a single
copper out of me, nor Andrick, because I don't believe a word of it, and
honestly? I don't care what you reckon."

At Saevern's words, Betsy stares interestedly at the hauberk. Her eyes widen at
the sight of the axe, and for the first time the child seems nervous,
stepping carefully round the man's back and closer to Megan. She does,
however, hear the rest of the conversation. Listening with a frown on her
young face, she bites her lip and then moves forward to tug at Megan's
sleeve, attempting to whisper something into the woman's ear.

Betsy whispers to Megan, "Why do we need to give the funny man money? I've got
a whole copper penny - but Da would be angry if I lost it." Her little face
is woebegone.

Saevern's grin disappears at Megan's stubbornness, and his expression turns to
one of defeatism. Too bright and with too many people about, the risk is far
too high to risk any threat of violence or abduction, so the armoured ruffian
takes a few hasty steps back from the woman and the girl. "Fine. But it's
best you listen to what I have to reckon now, because there might just be
some folly around your house one of these nights." Turning with a flap of his
old tunic, Saevern makes off northwestwardly once again away from the centre
of Bree and the woman and child.

Finally her attention is pulled away from the foreigner as Betsy appears at
Megan's side. "We don't need to. We en't goin' to. He just thinks we.. I owe
him somethin', which I don't. And don't tell him about that," Megan replies-
looking to Betsy sternly, as if not telling the man about her penny was a
matter or life or death (it probably was, really).. A pause now, and a
relieved sigh as Saevern makes her retreat, and Megan even looks momentarily
victorious! No reply follows his words- though, as his back is turned, her
eyes turn fearful and she doesn't move from the spot as if glued there.. She
watches him until he's well and truly gone- making sure he doesn't want to
come back and threaten them some more. Finally she begins to relax, though is
now very much on edge.

Betsy listens to Megan's words, heaving a sigh of relief that she's not going
to be asked to give up her precious penny. And then the 'funny man' leaves
... The child stares after the departing Saevern, her brows screwed up in
puzzlement. "What did he mean about something happening round our house? Is
/he/ the Lawn Thief?" So struck is she by that thought that she forgets to
whisper. "He does look funny - is his shirt really metal? He looks like a
teapot."

A long breath passes between Megan's lips as she finally finds the will to
move- though now tense, she glances around frightfully as if expecting more
vagabond-types to come jumping out at her.. "I'm not sure.. maybe he is the
La-- No, I don't reckon he's the lawn thief... maybe he is, I don't know..
And I don't know what he means exactly.." Of course she knows, but she
doesn't have the heart to tell an 8 year old that she was just threatened
with destruction of property, or something along those lines... "Yes, it's
really made of metal.. but if you see him around, Betsy, you be careful about
what you say, and.. well, just be careful. Don't talk to him."

"I don't think I'd want to talk to him," Betsy responds seriously. "He was very
rude. And ... that axe looked scary! Granda says Mister Thistlewool is the
lawn thief, though, and that man doesn't look at all like Mister Thistlewool.
Anyway - did you see my new hoop?" She lifts a hand and proudly displays her
new possession for inspection, the memory of the 'funny man' and his threats
already fading. "Are you good at rolling hoops?"

"Good. If you see him, don't talk to him.. And if he starts to follow you, you
go straight home." Megan says sternly- concern in her voice. After all, the
whole matter has shaken her, and she couldn't bear the thought of Betsy being
threatened by Saevern, too! "Well, no one knows who the lawn thief was, and
maybe it was Mr. Thistlewool or maybe it was that man but...yes, I saw your
hoop. It's very nice." Megan is obviously a bit thrown at the sudden change
of conversation, but happy to be off the bleak subject of ruffians and lawn
thefts (even if she partook on said lawn theft...) "I.. well, no, not really.
Maybe you could teach me?"

Does Betsy actually absorb Megan's instructions? Hard to tell, for the child's
eyes are shining as she addresses the topics of hoops. "It's very easy - you
just find a bit of space and set it rolling, and then keep pushing to keep it
going. Johnny uses a bit of stick for that ..." She sets the hoop down, eager
to demonstrate, despite the bustle of the crowd and the high chances of
hitting someone. "Want to see? An' then you can spin it round an' round your
arm - I can't do that yet, but I will sometime soon." She pouts in
determination.

"Maybe not here, Betsy.. there's too many people around..." Megan comments- the
energy now gone from her voice as she stares around. "Maybe I'll see next
time, hm? I'd best be gettin' home, anyway.. I were on my way there before,
and I've still got to make lunch.. You can show me all about your hoop next
time, alright?" Megan attempts a smile, though her mind is elsewhere now..
Raising one hand, she takes a step toward the eastern side of the road..
"G'afternoon, Betsy!"

"Oh." The disappointment is clear in Betsy's voice. "Aren't you in playing mood
these days? You don't seem very happy sometimes." But Megan's already taken a
step away. The child sighs dramatically, then raises her free hand in an
answering wave and calls out, "Goodbye, Megan! I'll see you again soon!"
Looking round for a moment, she shrugs and murmurs to herself, "It's not
/that/ busy. Maybe I'll just go up to the top of the hill and have another
shot." A moment later she's scampering on her way.