Logs-Events Outside the Prancing Pony

At the Sign of the Prancing Pony(#27261Rnto)
The Great East Road bends around the southeastern corner of Bree-hill. The Road leads away to the west and southeast, and where it sweeps past the foot of the hill there sits a large three storey inn. The inn has a front on the Road, with two wings that run back, away from the Road to the east, on land partly cut out from the hill's lower slopes. As a result, the rear second-floor windows of the inn are level with the ground. A wide arch leads to a courtyard between the two wings. Above the arch is a lamp and beneath it swings a large signboard: a fat white pony rearing up on its hind legs.
Obvious exits:
NorthWest leads to North Bree.
South leads to Bree Market - North.
SouthEast leads to GER: Centre of Bree.
West leads to Great East Road.
Archway leads to Archway.
========================== Bree Time =====================
Real time: Tue Jan 06 20:04:33 2004
Bree time: Late Afternoon <about 5 PM> on Mersday of Winter - February 17,1431
Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous Moon
=====================================================
Breelands Weather
The late afternoon winter air is cold and dry around you. The murky sky is overcast and dreary.

Through the archway from the Prancing Pony, meanders a older man dressed in thick brown robes. He walks with the help of an old looking staff as tall as he is. He stops just outside the arch, and draws in a long breath of cool dry air, then slowly lets it out with a gentle smile. His breath billows warm mist into the air, which he watches rise up and fade away, the smile still upon his face.

Trudging up the main drag, Gregory sighs tiredly, keeping a hand on his pouch over his shoulder. He has been making deliveries all day. With the cold weather, he wears a cheap brown cloak about his shoulders over the jacket. He looks up to the gloomy sky, at least it wasn't snowing. He walks in the direction of the Prancing Pony and gives the old man a tired smile. "Good day, Sir."
"It is indeed a good day, thank you." the old man says. He doesn't look at the man speaking to him, but keeps his eyes up to the sky.

From the south, in the direction of the market comes a girl- rust-red hood pulled over her head, basket balanced on the crook of her arm and a spring in her step. Freckled cheeks are flushed red and rosy and a rather flustered look is on her face as she hurries on. Eyes widen (in panic?) as she beholds the scene and the blocked archway and her pace slows, and falters, now letting her gaze sweep over the two already assembled there, and upon recognition of Gregory, she offers a half-hearted smile. "G'afternoon," though this greeting doesn't extend to incorporate the man in the archway (after all, he's blocking her way!)
Gregory pauses and looks up to the sky himself after watching the man a few long minutes. "What is it? Do you think it is going to snow again?" He asks curiously before looking off to the voice. He offers a wave to Megan. "Hello there. Returning from the Market?"

"Snow you say... you think so? I prefer the thick slow falling kind myself. Perhaps we'll get lucky this evening. It would make my travels that much more pleasant" the man dressed in brown says, now looking hopeful at Gregory.
Brown eyes are send skywards, and Megan scrunches up her nose with a slight frown, before bring her head back to centre- the hood now fallen from her head and so when shaking her head to Gregory her curls bounce about momentarily. "No.. I was collecting my deliveries, but I'm much too la-" Megan's attention has now been drawn to the man in brown, eyebrows raising curiously. "You like to travel in the snow?" (this is said rather disbelievingly) "And, oh! You're a traveller?"
Eustace wanders like a slow ship with a slight wind into the area...feet flopping in front of one another as hands gauntly hang in pockets. His back is slightly bent as he moves against the cold, nose unred but ears tainted...His hair flip-flopping as he moves. His eyes show a strange enlightenment as if he has come up with an idea. He spots the group ahead...and immediately becomes suspicious...

Gregory nods to him from their position in front of the Prancing Pony's entrance. "I'm afraid so. Far too cloudy and grey. I have to work all day looking up at them." He says, patting the empty pouch at his side. "A slow falling kind would be nice. Nothing heavy." He pauses and smiles, offering his hand. "My apologies. I'm Gregory Archer." He looks to Megan, nodding to her. "If you need some help, just let me know." He looks to the man for her answer.

A man in Brown you say. Indeed so, another man travels down the road towards the famed 'Sign of the Prancing Pony', and this one is dressed in brown as well. Or rather, a thick, dark, burnt sienna, muddy brown. Tromping noisily up the steps as Tolaglar moves towards the entrance to the Inn, and inadvertently towards the small gathered group, he tugs a bit harshly at the folds of his heavy cloak, muttering softly to himself dark words about lousy weather and blistered feet.

From the deep recesses of his hooded cloak, the vagabond's eyes alight upon the small gathering and gleams suspiciously... but no matter. His course does not alter, and his pace does not waver as he nears even closer.

"A pleasure Gregory. I am Radagast." the man says, his hand taking the hand Gregory offers. The older man's hand is very warm, but also very well travelled. He then turns to Megan, "Weather makes travelling much more interesting, wouldn't you agree?" he asks, which also seems to be the answer to the girl's questions.

"Hmm," Megan's brow knits into a frown just briefly, then she gives another quick shake of her head. "Well, maybe, but it's certainly not much fun when it's raining and cold..." Now, she stands proudly: "/I/ just got back from the Shire!" Yes, apparently this is her claim to travelling. "I'm Megan Tasselberry-Thatcher!" She pipes now, as if not wanting to be excluded from the greetings and introductions. Brown eyes flick briefly as two new figures approach, though they do not hold her attention for more than a few moments, for she is already back to studying Radagast curiously. "There's a few folk.. travellin' folk in Bree lately, are you travellin' with them?"

Gracefully walking out into the street before the prancing pony is the smooth-talking theif, David Slyhand. Clad in a black cloak, he slows down his strides as he notices a queer gathering massing in front of the sign. His small lips curl up slightly as he says in his deep sly husky voice, "Hail friends and strangers!" He offers them a low respectful bow.
Gregory shakes the man's hand. "Very nice to meet you, Mr. Radagast, sir." He looks to Megan and smirks, offering up his own opinion. "Well, it certainly wouldn't be dull now, wouldn't. Still, I haven't been far, myself. I am messenger, though, so hopefully it will give me a chance to go somewhere I've never been." He listens in, curious from Megan's question. He turns at the new arrivals, offering them a wave.

Eustace eyes Radagast with lengthy poise before he hesitates and then ponders for a split second..."I am Eustace Glover." the smooth, barely unhindered voice laps over the words as if they are rocks in a stream with tremendous grace. He would offer a hand to the brown robed man, but it would seem more polite somehow to wait for him to go first...There's an atmosphere in the air, and the thespian doesn't particularly like it...it tastes odd.

"Good to meet you Megan Tasselberry-Thatcher." Radagast says, "I myself am headed towards the Shire. I hear they have some mighty fine weed there. My pipe's been longing for it seems" the man jests with a small chuckle, "But I will go there alone... well, I suppose you are never alone in the company of the wilderness."

Tolaglar continues to tromp closer to the introductions and greetings, pulling his cloak tighter and tighter. A heavy, odorous, and earthy smell seems to seep from his form as he nears, and it becomes quite clear that the fellow was not actually dressed in his good browns, but instead wore his filth like a tunic.
A sigh, followed by the obligatory frost, puffs from beneath the vagabond's hood as he approaches and it is clear the small party of well-wishers is not going to move out of the way of the entrance. So he stops, and stands not a few feet away from the small group, now paying more attention than ever to whom they might be and why they might be standing here. A wave is directed his way, and in response, he gives a reserved nod to Gregory. "Afternoon," he mutters in response.

A small grin falls upon his face as he puffs out his chest slightly. David says with a puzzled expression accompanied by his grin, "Aye, Don't all notice me at once, that what i prefer.." He chuckles slightly then stops as he notices the stranger. "Aye, and what do we have here? A man in brown eh?" He chuckles more.

One eyebrow is arched again at this news, and Megan purses her lips in thought. "There was a Mr. Gandalf passing by this way just the other day, heading to the Shire, I think.. Pipeweed? Why, Bree has a pipeweed farm just down by Staddle, though I don't smoke m'self, I couldn't tell you if it were good or not and.." she's cut short as Eustace, Tolaglar and David arrive- eyes darting over them both, filled with mild curiosity, "G'afternoon!" She greets them all.
Gregory looks slightly to the vagabond, arching a brow before nodding to him. "Hello there." His attention upon the man momentarily distracts him from the conversation. He gives a friendly wave to David and Eustaces. "Hello." He gives to them as well.

"Alone, you say?" comes a reply from the other side of the archway, as another older man makes his way out of the Prancing Pony. He is cast in shades of grey where the 'vagabond' wears brown, though carrying a similarly lit pipe. "A chance meeting, that I should find you here, Radagast." He pauses for a deep puff from his pipe, and nods slowly. "I am indeed passing through here, young lady. Though passing through and having passed through are two very different things, I should say."

Eustace raises an eyebrow...It seems the man wishes nought to concept conversation with him, and so he turns his head to Gandalf. Today, it seems...Eustace looks quite ill. Face a pale and eyes hollowed 'neath by gentle black dashes of fatigue...He wipes his hand across his knee, and coughs..."Strange...is this some uprising of the geriatric militia?"

"Gandalf..." Radagast says quietly to himself. He steps away from the arch, and turns around, "Gandalf... chance would be a good way to describe meeting you... at least without some news of gathering." Radagast takes a step or two away from the arch, looking at the many people gathering about, he smile to each in turn.

An expression of mixed surprised and delight passes across Megan's face as she beholds Gandalf now approaching from the other side.. "Well, I wasn't sure if you were still restin' in Bree, or if you'd gone already, apologies for my error, then." she says- looking over the two, who have apparently met each other before. "You two know each other, have met in Bree, but aren't travelling together? That seems silly." she says, matter-of-factly.

Tolaglar's eyes widen slightly from the dark shadows of his hood, but only slightly and with a bit of recognition at the appearance of Gandalf. Soon, his eyes flicker over towards the smiling Radagast and quickly flinches away to gazes towards the others in the small group. Safer, perhaps. And so, the man's eyes eventually fall to rest upon Eustace and he tilts his head in curiosity.
David shrugs his shoulders slightly as his grin wideness. As the two wizards approach each other David slowly moves over to them, as he slowly makes his way toward the prancing pony he stops behind Gandalf and reaches his hand into the grey cloak/robe of Gandalf.

Gregory turns away from the three newcomers to look to the latest who comes from the Pony itself. He arches a brow before raising a hand to wave. "Greetings." He offers, having been to friendly to all he has seen so far. He looks to Megan. "You said his name is..Gandalf?" He mutters lowly.

Eustace quirks an eyebrow into bitter fluxes of mild distaste. These tall men, they arouse deep suspicion indeed. Would be perhaps the Eustace finds himself intimidated, but no...it's not like that as his mannerisms might show as he watches David..."I'd watch yourself Gandalf, sir. Items and sundries tend to go disappearing in Bree.." unlucky for David that Eustace had yet to move into the group, and was able to see the little movement with his director's eyes.

Lifting up the brim of his had with the stem of his pipe, Gandalf steps out of the archway and smiles warmly in kind. "So it would seem, though I have learned to take few things as chance in my years of wandering. Dare I hope that you bear good tidings so far from your home, or should we focus on matters of leaf and warm fires this evening?"

"It's been a while since I have been home, but as I have told Megan Tasselberry-Thatcher here, I am merely passing though. Heading West." Radagast replies to Gandalf, "As for tidings, I have neither good or bad to share this evening, aside from the usual nastiness about the dark woods East of here.

Eustace is as usual being ignored by Breefolk, and no travellers..he spits into the ground and tarnishes it away. Looks as if it might be the only solid to pass his lips today before he proceeds home across the street.
From afar, Eustace nods

Tolaglar sighs heavily as he catches bits and pieces of the carrying-ons of the world. Stomping a bit with impatience, or to get a bit of the mud off of his boots, the vagabond growls out a few muttered "Pard'n me's" and "Outta th' ways" and begin his sidling push through the small group to get to the entrance of the Pony.
Once through, he stops to throw a suspicious glance back towards the group before rubbing his nose and turning towards the door to the Pony.
David shifts his gaze over to Eustace but shrugs him off as the wizard seems not to notice. As he continues to search around in his pocket his smile widens as he catches a grip upon something inside the pocket he slowly begins to pull it out.

Having fallen silent, Gregory simply stands there, looking about at the various conversations for a moment, wondering where or if he should jump in.

It seems that for a while Megan too has fallen silent, before scrunching up her nose thoughtfully- eyes watching as Eustace and Tolaglar depart, that eyebrow arching again, before she directs her attention back to Gandalf and Radagast. "Dark woods? Which woods are these? Not the Chetwood, surely!"

Radagast looks back to Megan, brows raised, "Chetwood? No no, not that close. Past Weathertop I mean. But I did run into a little trouble in the Chetwood as well, but I think I scared them off. Not hard to fumble the feeble-minded." he laughs, cheeks beginning to get pink in the cold evening air.

Nigel trudges along, looking all around and still trying to make good speed. This involves a lot of almost tripping into things.

Gregory blinks and looks up at the mention of the Chetwood, his family, Archet. He sighs with relief at Radagast answer. He smirks slightly. "You scared them off? How..if I may ask, of course, sir."

"Well, that's as well as can be expected, I suppose," Gandalf says, taking another buff from his pipe. If he notices the activities of David he pays no heed, and to Eustace he offers a kind nod and knowing smile. "Trouble in the Chetwood? Not more than you can handle, I'm certain."

David pulls out the object and keeps it tight in his hand. He grins slightly as he begins to turn around. He then offers Eustace a slightly wink.

Radagast grins at Gregory, "Oh, a few well chosen words is all. It doesn't take much to fool the simple minded, as I'm sure Gandalf here can attest to." he blinks at Gandalf, giving him a long knowing look.

Nigel's face brightens at the sight of the Inn, and he moves closer, pausing to listen.

Gandalf raises a hand to his mouth in mock-surprise. "My secret life as a fool is out then, is it?" He says with a chuckle. "Speaking of which, I have always been confused by the actions of some people. For example, I could never understand why anyone would reach into another man's bag for his tinderbox, only to remove a still smouldering wood chip with his bare hands."

The light cast from the Prancing Pony stirs momentarily as a figure passes between the windows of the inn and the small gathering by the sign. This unkempt fellow walks a few paces down the path from the inn and then pauses as he looks towards the group of folks whom are chattering. He remains a small distance away from the crowd and leans up against the archway and pulls out a long misshapen pipe from his cloak.

David quickly turns around and smiles as he drops the hot woodchip. "Oh darn, I have been caught." He quickly winks to Gandalf then to the others as he runs out of view behind a building.

Gregory nods slowly to Radagast, looking to Gandalf for his answer before blinks slightly in confusion. "I beg your pardon?" He looks back to Radagast, slightly confused. "I'm sure you are no fool, Sir. But..what do you mean about..a wood chip?" He looks about at the others.

Radagast laughs gently as the would-be thief runs off with a wink, "Not all are as wise as you Gandalf... very few indeed it seems." He again looks up to the sky, which is now dropping snow on the assembled group, "Seems my wish has been granted... "" he winks to both Gregory and Megan.

Shifting uncomfortably- perhaps from cold or from the weight of standing around and talking for so long, Megan finally comes to a decision and goes to set the basket down- pausing half way to reconsider, looking up at those assembled. "Would anyone like a pastry or a cinnamon bun? Baked fresh this mornin' from the bakery..." she offers (though it's somewhat off-topic, considering what everyone had been talking about thus far), letting her eyes dance over the group- offering a bright and dazzling smile to Radagast, though this fades into curiosity once more as she spies a new figure leant against the archway..

A dark stranger of medium build appears from around the corner of a building. Upon sighting the group he hesitates, brushing snow from his cape and sizing up each individual for a split second. Once satisfied he proceeds as if he has business inside the arch, nodding to the group as he passes.
Nigel perks up at the mention of food, and he shuffles quietly around all the Big Folk to reach the basket of pastries and it's keeper.

The dark man pauses at the sight of the basket being offered around and the baked goods inside. He steps closer to have a look. Glancing up he asks, "And these are fresh baked, you say? How much for that one?", he inquires, pointing to his selection.

The unkempt man lights his pipe. The light from the flame momentarily casts a soft glow upon his ugly face. His large nose and thin lips become obscured by darkness once more as the pipe now just glows a faint red in its bowl. As the dark man speaks to the little folk, the ugly man quietly turns to look at him.

Gregory chuckles softly to Radagast's wink, nodding to him. "Well, I'm sure he must far more wise than me. I don't have clue." He says with a smile. He looks to the new figure and offers a nod to him. "Afternoon."

Bright eyes flick to the man showing interest in her basket- curious eyes that mask suspicion; a bright smile that hides wariness... "Yessir, baked fresh this mornin' That'un?" she asks- pointing into the basket for confirmation. "That one'll be 4 Copper pieces, and that aint too steep, if you're asking my opinion!" (Which he isn't.) Eyes glance to Nigel as he approaches. "Hullo. Can I interest you in some baked goods? Or you?" She asks- looking to the ugly man with the pipe (though again, she is wary- after all, hidden in the shadows with his pipe, he doesn't look particularly trustworthy..)

"A wood chip? Did I say that out loud?" Gandalf replies sheepishly. "Perhaps I've grown more senile than I had previously imagined." Finishing the last of his pipe, he taps it out against a boot heel, then leans against the side of the archway and yawns slightly. He glances at the unkempt stranger momentarily, and blinks twice. Shaking his head, he glances back at Radagast with a slight shrug.

From the grey and fading road, another darkly clad man paces with long, steady strides. Snow gathers slowly within the folds of his cowl, the natty coil of rope upon his gloved wrist. "Has Barliman tossed you out?" he softly, drily inquires of the apparently weather-proof knot of folk, in passing.

The dark stranger glances toward the brief flare of light and then back to the basket, seemingly finding nothing of interest about the man with the pipe. At the greeting from the old man he nods and says, "Indeed, it will not be much longer 'til evening and I've not eaten on the road today." Turning to the woman he pulls some copper coins out of his belt and drops them into her outstretched hand as he takes the roll with the other.

Radagast shrugs along with the senile old man, "Not kicked out," he says to the new arrival, shaking the snow from his long hair, "Just heading out." he continues, now pulling up the brown hood over his head, "I hear you are headed East as well Gandalf. Perhaps we will meet somewhere along the way?" he asks plainly.

Nigel winces slightly as he listens to the man talk to Megan. He touches the pocket nearest his heart, fingers tapping as if he's counting coins in his memory. He lets out a puff of air and shakes his head. "Oh no, kind miss, I guess not this evening." He gives the pastries another glance, then shakes his head more firmly. "Another day."

Before the dark man bites into his roll he pauses with it half way to his lips. "East, you say? I've just come from south and east of here. The passes are cold and mean this time of year, if you mean to cross the mountains."

The ugly man turns his head to look back towards the inn as Gandalf and the Dark man look at him. Without directly facing anyone in particular he mutters a few words following the brown cloaked man's statement, "Well perhaps some were not kicked out anyways." The Ugly man puffs on his pipe before muttering again "too much for flat ale anyways."

Megan nods her head in thanks and offers the basket toward the dark stranger with a pleasant smile- "You are a traveller too, then?" she asks, though this question has apparently awakened some knowledge that they are not alone outside the Inn, and she now offers her basket toward Gandalf and Radagast- "Mr. Gandalf, Mr. Radagast, can I interest you in something baked? Oh.. not enough coin, Mister Hobbit?"

"Did I say East? I think I meant West..." Radagast says to the ugly man.

The new come man's steps slow, the fine snow falling in a dusting from his hem. A keen glance flicks to the one leaning within the archway, as he speaks. And then Drystan turns to the girl, perusing her basket at a slight distance as he listens.

"Oh, I'm well enough, miss," the young Hobbit replies. He's still eyeing Megan's pastries. "I've a little cash but I need to take care with it until I'm more established in this town. Truth be told, I could manage to wait a bit before I have my supper, though the baked goods you have are certainly tempting."

"South and east?" Gandalf replies slowly, closing his eyes for a moment with a nod. "Perhaps after I have paid my respects to the dwarves of the Blue Mountains, my pony shall take me to visit..." he pauses, glancing at the brown-garbed traveller, "a mutual friend of ours, Radagast. I have not spoken with one so cunning in years, no doubt." Glancing down at Megan, Gandalf shakes his head with a smile. "I have just supped, I am afraid, and the fare at the Pony is quite enough for this old man's stomach!"

The ugly man coughs suddenly after Megan's words. His pipe falls towards the ground as his lips part for the cough. He reaches and catches the pipe by its long handle at about waist height just as Radagast addresses him. "He does not look at the brown cloaked man but mumbles a reply, "East, West. I wasn't paying attention to what ye was saying anyways."

The dark man nods, "Ah, my mistake probably. I could have sworn I heard you say 'east'. No matter then, but tell me, in due time I will be headed west from here...Do you know the condition of the roads in that direction?"

Gregory looks at the pastries and ponders, it has been a long day after all. He digs into his coat pocket, looking for some coins to buy something before he shakes his head. "Better wait now for Supper." He comments to himself. He looks up to listen to their talk about travel and sighs gently.

The basket is again offered- Megan's eyebrows raised in question as her eyes fall on all of those gathered- whether those just arrived or those who have been there for as long as she (or longer!). "Oh, well another time then, surely," she replies to the hobbit with a warm smile, though her attention is again turned to Gandalf and for a moment she seems to ponder. "Perhaps you would take one then, as.. a parting gift.. if I don't see you again in Bree.." she pushes the matter no further, however as she's already had incredible luck at receiving money for anything at all- after all, she's usually giving the pastries away for free, and certainly doesn't want to appear like she's just cheated the dark man.. So, a rather innocent smile settles onto her face to cover herself, should he have any complaints..

Radagast's brow raises as he replies to the dark man, "Can't say I know the conditions of the roads, My feet don't walk upon them very often." he takes in a deep breath and sighs, "But I should be on my way before this fine snow stops falling." he looks one last time to Gandalf after waving a hand in refusal to Megan's offer, "I will be heading to the valley soon enough. If you have any news Gandalf, let me know. I can pass it on to those who need it. The skies are always listening as well, as you know."

"The skies?" Megan gasps, glancing up a moment to the heavens, before back down again- that look of pride written on her face as she declares: "Do you mean them big talkin' eagles? I met them once, and they talked to me they did.. They talked to me even when we thought they was goin' to eat us and everythin'." She nods her head enthusiastically as if to make sure they knew she wasn't lying.

"So it would seem, my old friend," Gandalf says with Radagast, with a parting wave. "I cannot speak for the roads west of here myself, for it is several years since I have walked them, and I spent much of the winter many leagues to the east." As he reaches to accept and offering of baked goods from young Megan, his eyes flash momentarily, before he allows himself an uneasy chuckle. "Talking birds, you say? You no doubt have a strong imagination, child. Have the dogs spoken to you? Perhaps they bring word of when spring shall come?"

The dark man glances skyward as if remembering something, "Aye, a tall tale for children, I am afraid. Talking birds..." His voice trails off as he takes a bite of his roll.

Uneasiness flows over the brown-cloaked man as well. Drystan has tilted his steps nearer the girl, but now he hesitates, studying her face more closely. "You must be Megan," he says quickly, with a warm, practiced smile. "I have heard of this game of pretend from your young friend. Come now, what have you to sell?"

Nigel gapes at the pastry girl for a moment, then looks up into the sky. He seems relieved to see nothing but snow. As Gandalf talks he seems even more relieved. A smile makes an uncertain appearance on his face.

Radagast chuckles at Megan's words, "If ever we meet again, you'll have to tell me of these 'talking birds' you mention. Sounds like a wonderful tale." The older man in brown glances to Gandalf, and gives him a final nod, "Take care." he says, "To all of you. It is quite warm inside the inn." he suggests. He grasps his staff loosely in him hand, and prepares to head off.

"Not just /birds/," Megan sighs, as if she thought Gandalf had no idea about anything, and hadn't listened to a word she'd said. "Talkin' eagles! They was outside the west gate, Mr. Gandalf- honest they were, you can even ask Mr. Glover- he threw stones at one of them and hit them good, and they turned and landed on the big tree out there and they talked to him, and one of them would have eaten him he was so angry! But the other one stopped him and.. No, there's no such thing as talkin' dogs and it's /not/ a tale! I saw them! And Andrick, and Tathar, and Eustace and and Gaunt! We all saw them!" She is apparently quite exhasperated at their disbelief, now stopping with a sigh. "Yes, I'm Megan, though I don't know who you are, and it's no game of pretend!" Megan's eyes have begun to turn cold and angry...

The ugly man raises his pipe back in front of his lips. His arm just sort of hangs in front of his face as he holds the pipe in front of his lips. He mumbles "eagles, west, east." He shakes his head and puts the pipe in his mouth. He speaks through half clenched lips semi breaking into the conversation, "If it is true that these talking birds do really speak, what is it that they say?"

Gregory looks at Megan as if she is crazy, muttering low under his breath. "Talking birds?" He looks to Radagast and Gandalf, since the comments are directed at them.

Radagast raises his hand in farewell. But before he turns away from the group, he gives Megan a wink. His eye has a distinctive tinkle to it for quick moment, "Farewell..." he says as he begins to walk to the West.

Nigel takes Radagast's advice to heart and turns towards the warmth of the Inn.

"Safe travels, Mr. Radagast!" Megan calls after him- waving briefly, though the wink has obviously thrown her off as she's fallen into a rather stunned silence- a confused and thoughtful look on her face for a moment more, before she finally takes a deep breath and looks toward the ugly man. "They said lots of things! Mostly about how Eustace should show more respect to the Vassal, or something.. I can't remember, but they was mostly talkin' to Eustace.."

Shaking his head with a wry laugh, Gandalf pulls his grey robes up closer, and straightens from the wall to turn towards the inn's entrance. "Yes, I dare say the hearth would be more than welcome protection from the growing chill in these tired bones. I shall retire back to my rooms for now, though I think my business in Bree is not yet finished. Good night to you all, and many thanks for the gift, young lady. I shall have to think long and hard to find a suitable present in return." He glances once more at the child as she pipes in again about the eagles, and chuckles away her comments before making his way back into the Prancing Pony.

Gregory raises a hand to wave to the old man. "It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Radagast. if you are ever in Bree, you are always welcome to say Hello. Safe Journey!" He calls out before looking up to the falling sky. "Hmm, It's time to get out of the cold and gets some food." He smiles to Megan before heading in.

Nigel heads off to find a room.

Calimore pulls his cloak closer about his shoulders as he chews a bite of pastry and watches everyone depart.

Megan smiles delightedly to Gandalf, "Why, I'd love a gift, Mr. Gandalf, but you needn't worry yourself over it..." Though, it's quite obvious she'd be rather disappointed and upset if she didn't get a gift or that it didn't meet her expectations. Now, as the three folks have left, Megan gives a little shiver and sets her basket on the floor- waving briefly to Gregory as he too departs. "G'bye, Gregory!"

Gregory mimics Calimore, pulling is cloak about him tighter before giving a wave to Megan. "Need anything delivered. I'm your man." He says. "Goodbye." He steps in for much needed warmth.

Cormac waits for the crowd to thin before he finally turns to directly face Megan and he speaks, "It sounds as though the bearded one thinks that you are a liar child. Surely you plan to do something to protect your honour. Why what if word would get around that you were not speaking whole truths. Why one might think that you are not in your right mind. Whether that mind be sick or be one trying to take advantage of others is anyone's guess. But rumours, well they tend to take a less than positive spin most times."

Megan's eyes widen slightly at Cormac's words and she takes a short breath, biting her lip. "Well, what do you think I should do!? Because, I en't lyin'! You can ask anyone that was there.. e'cept maybe Gaunt and Tathar, because they ran away and didn't hear them speak... but it's really true, I saw them!" she glances around at the three that have lingered there- imploring them to believe her.

Cormac pulls his pipe out of his mouth with his hand holding the bowl. He points the the pipe's neck at the woman and says, "So there are no witnesses except for you? Well then, perhaps the bearded man does know what to believe and what to doubt."

The dark man mutters, "Me, I never heard of such a thing...never happened far as I can see."
Calimore looks at the ugly man pointedly and nods his head toward the girl, pointing at his temple with his finger and smiling.

Drystan idly watches the scattering, gaze lingering on Cormac and Calimore for a deeply measuring moment. But he has gone silent now, and with the girl's distress, slides an interested focus back to her.

Megan has only just seen this movement out the corner of her eye- the finger to the temply, and she rounds on Calimore with wild eyes- not cold and stony, a scowl on her face that would probably cause more timid hearts to quake in fear. "I en't crazy! I saw them. I'll.. I'll even take you to the big tree outside the gate, so you can see the claw-marks! And.. and the big stone that they crushed under their claws!"

Cormac points the neck of his pipe at the dark man and says, "well then I guess that about proves it. Seems the woman child thinks that birds can crush stones with their claws as well as speak. Do you think that this child was dropped on her head as a baby? Perhaps she is just not too bright and believes the stories of those whom are taking advantage of her ignorance?" The ugly man returns the neck of the pipe to his lips. He puffs a few times before muttering, " A shame she is indeed."

Calimore holds both hands out in front of him, palms outward, as if to fend off the crazed woman, "Now, now, don't get all worked up...I'm sure you thought what they told you was true, but you just can't believe everything you hear, my girl."

Calimore holds both hands out in front of him, palms outward, as if to fend off the crazed woman, "Now, now, don't get all worked up...I'm sure you thought what they told you was true, but you just can't believe everything you hear, my girl."

"They weren't just birds," Megan explains flatly, giving another sigh- one defeated, as obviously these people weren't going to believe her any time soon. "They were eagles. Bigger than me- maybe twice my size.. and their claws were big enough to crush a stone, and they clacked their beaks together and flew over Bree, too...What they told me? I don't know what you're talking about. I saw them, with my eyes. And I'm not crazy."

The dark man shakes his head and grins, backing away slowly. To the ugly one he mutters out of the side of his mouth, "Probably runs in the family. Her mother's probably just as addled as she is."

"Megan..." The brown-clad man speaks up, in idle, gentle tones. "Sanity is difficult to prove, now isn't it?" Drystan seeks her eyes, as if politely concerned. "It's a small place, Bree. Should take care in speaking such things. Shouldn't you."

Smiling a toothy grin the ugly man speaks in a calm voice, "It is okay little lady. We won't tell anyone that you are out of your head just like your poor dear mom. I am sure that folks are making fun of both of you plain enough with out our help." He looks at the dark man, "We best not turn our backs on her, who knows how safe she is...."

Cold eyes dart between Calimore and Cormac, before at Drystan's words, her gaze sweeps across at him; looking him over, searching him. "I know what I saw. And I know that Andrick and Eustace and Tathar and Gaunt all saw it too..." Megan makes no attempt at defending her mother- after all, she herself considered Rebecca Tasselberry to have a screw loose, after the incident concerning Megan and her brothers a few years back.. and yet, brown eyes (still cold) look between the three, before they are lowered, and in a rather pathetic voice (one reaching out for sympathy and understanding) she whimpers: "I'm not crazy."

The dark man continues to back away slowly, grinning, arms in front of him, "Sure, Lass, whatever you say. The streets are paved with mithril and the talking birds break rocks....aye....indeed."

Cormac looks at the dark man and shakes his head. He says, "You seem to be right, she is off her rock." The ugly man looks back at the woman and starts to back away from her as well. He reaches into his cloak and pulls out a copper penny. He tosses it at the lass's feet and says, "Here you go little one. Take this penny and buy some more bread or what ever it is that you were peddling earlier. I see now that you obviously need charity to scrape by..."

A considering, shrewd glance travels over the downcast Megan; and the corners of the Drystan's mouth quirk with the others' words. "Come now, miss," he prompts rather kindly, in his quiet rasp of a voice. "Come out of the cold, and pay these ignorant, unkind men no attention."

"With a face such as yours, sir, I would not go about offering charity, for surely you must find it difficult to receive any yourself- I am surprised more of the people gathered here today did not run away in fright upon laying eyes on you. Forgive me my ignorance for I only wished to offer you a story, but if you will not listen and believe my words, then there is little more I can do. I don't want your charity, I don't need it..." and so, with the toe of her boot Megan kicks back the coin, now glancing up at Drystan with a defeated sigh, and a nod, she bends to pick up her basket and prepares to follow him.

Drystan watches as the girl gathers her things, looking faintly amused. Though by the time she has straightened, he has raised a protective arm as if to herd her through a full, jeering crowd, and into the anonymity of the Pony.

Cormac glances at the dark man and speaks plainly, "See what I mean. This lad over there sees how disabled this young lady is and he means to take advantage of her condition. I have half a mind to try to save her from what ever dark plans he might have." He smiles slightly and continues, "She thinks I am ugly. All the more proof that her head is out of sorts. She should really be tied to a chair so she does not wander away from home anymore."

The dark man grins at the ugly man, nodding his head toward the other pair, "I'll bet he's in for a treat, eh?"

Megan lifts her chin and follows Drystan- sending cold looks in the direction of Cormac and Calimore, thus failing to notice a raised cobble in the path before her.. so, to add to her situation and to make matters worse, the toe of her boot catches this, and with a yelp, she goes flying forward- basket of goods flying into the air, and her body on its fast descent toward the ground.

Calimore jumps back quickly as the girl passes, shouting "There! Did you see that?! Why the poor crazed creature tried to attack me, she did!"
Calimore shakes his head, never taking his gaze off the girl, "Why, if I hadn't jumped out of the way she'd have been on top of me, probably scratching at my eyes with those nails of hers. She's a dangerous one alright. Yes, she is!"

Cormac looks quickly towards the road. He starts to yell, "Constable!, Gate Keeper!, Stable boy! Help Help! This crazy woman just attacked this fine upstanding gentleman. Help!

Calimore joins in the hue and cry. "Constable! Constable!"

Swiftly, her makeshift guard intervenes - too late for the pastries, but mostly in time to break her fall. Drystan grasps after her cloak - but grimaces deeply with the shouts rising clear and stinging in the cold air. The man pauses just long enough to see that she does not break her teeth on the cobbles and then takes several quick steps away, into the growing shadows. Not ... quite fleeing.

Calimore points in the direction of the departing man and shouts, "See? Even he's afraid of her!"
Calimore shouts "Constable! Constable! It's a mad woman in the streets!"

Cormac looks at the Dark Man again. "Do you need medical attention? Did she injury you badly. I witnessed the whole attack. Guards!! Someone fetch a healer!."

Megan has managed to grab Drystan and lower herself to the floor, and, at all the yelling for authority and the fact that she's futher humiliated herself, tears begin to well in her eyes and for a while she seems to be unable to move- focusing more on wiping the tears away before they have a chance to roll down her cheeks as well as glancing about worriedly- especially as Drystan (her saviour, thus far!) disappears. Meanwhile- a few frightened patrons from inside the Pony step into the archway- stunned and puzzled looks on their faces. From a little way down the road- near the Breeguard Headquarters, a Breeguard comes running along, and all of them now find themselves confronted with two rather suspicious foreign men, and a girl sitting on the floor bursting into tears.. Now, to whom they direct their sympathies??... Breegirl, or Foreigners.. Like any well-respecting Bree citizens, it is to the Breegirl, obviously.

Calimore stops the guard, grabbing him by the arm and pointing, "That woman there! That's the one! Attacked me, she did, and for nothing! She's mad, mad I say. Babbling about talking birds that break rocks and such, then jumping at me with her nails going for my eyes. She needs to be locked up! Just ask that man over there. He'll tell you! He saw it all!"

"What's the matter here? Who attacked who?" The Breeguard questions, after a few moments of fussing over the Breegirl and helping her to stand (and now, tears are flowing freely and quickly- perhaps for added effect) he turns his attention to the ugly and dark man, and their yelling. "This girl here? She doesn't look particularly dangerous, sir, nor capable of hurting anyone. If anything, I'd say it were /you/ who attacked her." Meanwhile, another Breeguard has arrived on the scene- seen the fleeing man, and quickly runs to intercept, with a stern: "YOU! Stop there!!"

Cormac points his attention to the guard, "Yes, yes indeed. She is crazy sir. She attacked this poor defenceless man for no reason. He was minding his own business and she just started throwing things." The ugly man points towards the other man who is backing away, "Go ahead and ask him. He saw it... well unless they are partners in this mischief. He well ... maybe they are both crazy! Guards you must do something before this lady hurts anyone else."

Calimore points to the ugly man as he addresses the guard, "It was she who attacked us, sir! Just ask that man over there. He's a complete stranger with no motive to lie. She was so violent she scared that other man away and all he was doing was trying to pull her off me. It's a wonder I wasn't killed!"

For a few moments, Drystan continues on, as if unaware the guard is speaking to him. But this cannot last long, and he lifts his head with a startled expression which bends into compliance. "How may I assist?" he asks, evenly, glancing back as Cormac speaks.

Cormac turns to the dark man, "Sir... do you need me to carry you to the healers? Perhaps I should fetch a cart? Or perhaps a bandage? Can you walk or do you think that she broke your leg in this hideous assault. Guard will you help me carry this man to a healer? Who knows how serious are his injuries."

"I didn't attack anyone!" Megan cries (and cries further), her voice shuddering with the effort- one hand raising to wipe away more tears and this creating dirty streaks down her cheeks from the mud that stuck to her hands when she landed on the road. The guard with Drystan stops, meanwhile and motions for him to return to the archway. "Did you see what happened, sir?" he asks, the guard at the archway listening attentively to each story with a stern frown- looking between each of them in the frowning-breeguard way. "He's not even injured! I didn't touch him! I just fell over!" Megan exclaims, bringing on a fresh flood of tears.

Calimore raises a hand as he hobbles over to the ugly man and places it on his shoulder. "Thank you, sir. Perhaps I can make it to a healer with some help." With this he turns and points to the woman, "Just keep her away from me! She needs to be locked up! Dangerous, she is!"

And yet someone else has happened upon the scene. Perhaps unnoticed at first, the tall traveller looks out from the archway from the Prancing Pony. Her glance seems almost idle. Disinterested, as though events play out before her despite her disinterest. A satchel is held under her left arm, though a cloak conceals most of her person--her head unhooded by cowl or cover. As Megan sputters a protest, the silvery gaze narrows, then flits to the three men standing nearby.

Calimore leans on the ugly man and mutters on, non-stop, "Just get me to a healer, friend. That's all I ask. There'll be ample reward for your help, sir. That I promise."

Quite by contrast, the black-haired man within the archway surveys the growing confusion with bright eyes - and the faint, growing smile of a child with gifts stacked before him. "I did see it. I saw it all. And wondrous strange it was ..." says Drystan, calmly. "I should not let those men leave, if I were you."

Guards! Guards! "And all's well!" comes the faint sound of a man's voice from a nearby alleyway, and then the calling stops as a third guard arrives at the scene, a hobbit by the name of Wilbur Sandheaver, who strides up behind Megan and stares, hand gripping a short club at his waist. "Crazy woman?" he asks loudly, giving a look to the other two men. "What's all this? It's just Miss Tasselberry, and I don't expect that she could do anyone harm." It's the type of statement meant more as a command, a suggestion to make it true than to particularly repeat the truth.

Cormac puts his arm under the dark man's shoulder and starts to help the man walk down the road. He speaks in a concerned voice, "But of course. But of course. I just hope we make it there while you still have strength. The horrors of this event will stay in my mind for ever. Such hostility and anger from one woman who is so small. The torture of it all will last for ever. How many others will she attack in this brutal manner. The horror of it all."

Calimore points to the woman again as he and the ugly man hobble away from the scene, "And keep her away from me! I'll be back to file charges once I've had my injuries tended to."

"I didn't even touch him!" Megan exclaims again- bright brown eyes- now tear-stained looking about the crowd, seeking out a friendly and familiar face. "If they go to the healers you'll see, there's nothin' wrong at all!!" Now the guard with Drystan gives a concerned frown, and at his words looks across to the newly arrived Wilbur- one eyebrow raising in question, before he looks across to the retreating Calimore and Cormac- torn between remaining and bringing them back. Megan sniffles pathetically to Wilbur, letting out a sigh of relief as he has arrived and Drystan is back and standing up for her. "See- see! Ask them, I aint done nothing!!"

The two men disappear around the corner into the growing darkness.

Turning now to look at the other man standing nearby in the archway, Tiriel might be seen to smile. Almost imperceptibly, before she looks back to Megan, and then to the approaching guardsman. In soft tone, she wonders of Drystan, her expression once more neutral, "What did you see, then?"

"And I'm sure you haven't, Miss Tasselberry, but perhaps you'd like to tell it to me as we're walking, hmm?" The hobbit looks up at Megan. "Come, let's take a walk that"--He gestures westward up the road, the very same direction from whence he came--"and you can tell me what you have or haven't done to that pair." Just to make his point very clear, Wilbur nudges his head in the same direction.

Megan is now overcome with pathetic sniffles that look like they could give way to tears at any moment, though she is much calmed down now after her episode and the departure of the dark and ugly men and so after some deep, steading breaths, and a few more attempts at clearing her eyes she looks down to Wilbur in shock- "You're not goin' to lock me up, are you?! I didn't do anythin'! I'll tell you right here, if you don't mind! I was.. well, I was standin' here talking.. and then they called me crazy, and so Drystan, he was goin' to take me inside, and I tripped over- look!" and now she turns quickly and points to the raised cobble- over which she fell. "See! That's what I fell on.. and.. and then they was calling...and I just fell over- I didn't attack or do /anythin'/"

"Lock you up?" Wilbur seems a bit puzzled by this. "No, I'd not place you in the lockholes. It's a bit damp and cools at this time of year and certainly no place for a woman. I'm just a bit more interested in how the two of them came to be picking fights with you in the first place. I don't know about them; the one looked like he wasn't from 'round these parts, and they both looked like they weren't chosen when the looks were handed out; that's being generous on my part." A nervous glance goes to Drystan. "You see what happened?" the guard asks, echoing the request of the others.

The jet-haired man's wondering amusement is swiftly contained as a question is put to him. Drystan glances sidelong to the speaker, a full gaze turning on her immediately on recognition. "Tir," he says, quietly speaking under the girl's tale. And he presses a hand to his chest, in a slight show of respect. "When I came upon it, there was a strange assembly milling about the girl. Two elderly gentlemen, the two who have gone ..." A glance (grim, in truth) flicks to the Breeguards who have allowed this. "That pair began to wildly accuse her of dangerous insanity, for nothing more than speaking of her friend's pet bird."

The man lifts his voice a bit, looking to the one in question. "Isn't that correct, Megan? You did nothing but speak of Tathar's pet bird?"

Megan looks terribly relieved at Wilbur's words. "Oh, thank you! I was so afraid you might believe their nonsense, and.. and .. and..." The Breegirl bites back tears as she remembers her horrendous ordeal just passes. "They weren't from around, and one was awfully ugly it's true, and I told him so when he wouldn't leave me be and.." Megan is cut short as she looks across at Drystan, giving a few quick nods. "That's right! That's all I did, and they called me crazy, like they aint ever seen birds before!" and now, she lowers her eyes again, letting out a quiet sigh.

Though she listens to Drystan's account, Tiriel's gaze has followed after the two retreating gentlemen. Disinterest is, this time, more difficult to conceal in the glint of that silver gaze, though by all clues of expression, she is impassive. "How strange..." is all that the woman says, leaving her watch of the south road at last to look back to the Breeguards and the unfortunate woman they speak to. "But then, there are oft strange things happening in Bree. Are there not?" she wonders, making one last glance to Drystan with a single nod of her head in farewell before she slips the strap of her satchel over her left shoulder and starts back for the entryway of the inn.

"Sound like a nasty couple. I'd do best to tell you to keep away from them if you see them around, but..." While the other two guards, a pair of younger men, linger silently at the unspoken request of their senior, Wilbur scans the area looking for those who have disappeared. "Yes, yes, strange things happening all the time. There was an awful ruckus over in Staddle just last night caused by Modo Underhill and his wife, but they were just quarrelling. Took a while to clean up all the eggs, though," the hobbit recalls idly as he thinks.

"Well, they said they was going to the healers, so I'll go look for them there and maybe give 'em a reason not to harass the ladies 'round here because they haven't seemed to got one yet. You take care, Miss Tasselberry." With a step toward the north of town, Wilbur nods his head. "And to the both of you." With that, he is off.

"Slander for sport, I suspect," Drystan replies, impassively meeting the Ranger's gaze. "Nothing more than a cruel, idle game." And he too looks into the swirling snow, swiftly covering the tracks of the pair who fled; deep interest written in the curve of his mouth.

"Come Megan." His gaze flicks down to her. "Come lass, your nose is as red as Butterbur's best wine. Into the Inn, now."

Megan nods gratefully at Wilbur. "Thank you, Mister!" Yes, she doesn't know his name yet... nor does she know the name of the black-haired man, to whom she now turns and offers a very docile, very gentle (and rather timid) smile. Perhaps she's been a tad shaken up by this whole ordeal... She gives him now a little nod and steps up to the archway... "I.. uhm, well, you know my name, but I still don't know yours... and, well it seems silly that I don't know it after all this.."

The man raises his arm as she approaches, to fold the cold lass beneath his wing. As it were. Snow falls fluidly from the lines of his rough, brown cloak with this motion, black head tilting down to her in gentlemanly attention. "Tathar calls me Thorn. You may use that, if you like. Come. Forget."

Megan is taken under his wing- grateful and appreciative, letting out a sigh again as she now finishes the calming process, and offers another smile up to Drystan. "Thorn, then." she nods her head and follows him inside- leaving her broken basket of scattered pastries outside in the snow. Apparently she has forgotten this, at least.