Logs-Shopping and Chatting

Bree General Store
The spacious general store has creaking wooden floors, and a slightly musty
smell. There are several spots on the wall now devoid of paint where shelves
were hung. Many shelves still remain but most of the goods are displayed on
various tables, in barrels, and on racks. A large counter lines the wall
closest to the door. Along one wall is a small bookcase lined with quite a
few books, all looking extremely old and dusty. Clothing articles are on the
opposite wall hanging on one extremely long rack. A portion of space in the
middle of the store contains tables with a few pelts, sharpening stones,
pipes, etc. A glimpse at the back of the store reveals a group of barrels and
coils of rope.

Obvious exits:
Out

==================== Bree Time ======================
Real time: Mon Jan 05 04:30:14 2004
Bree time: Early Evening <about 6 PM (early dinner)> on Sterday of Winter -
February 12,1431
Moon Phase: First Quarter Moon

Breelands Weather
The early evening winter air is cold and dry around you. The murky sky is
overcast and dreary.
====================================================

<OOC> RP in progress: 'tis late afternoon on closing time, and no one is
leaving ;) David just approached Megan..

Again Megan's attention is wavered, now fingers halfway through pulling a book
from the shelf she turns to regard David; attempting a smile, though it is
rather half-hearted. "Hello.. uhm.. Hello." She's obviously forgotten his
name, and this would have to be one of the worst cover-ups in her whole
history of forgotten names..."It is not such a wonderful day- cold and
dreary's all it appears to be in my eyes..." she says, rather absently now as
she pulls the book from the shelf and flicks through the pages- uttering
another quiet sigh.

David shrugs slightly as he sighs. "Aye, some like it cold it miss. Like
me, David Slyhand, I love the cold." He coughs slightly as he notcies the
owner of the store stairing at him.

The main door creaks slowly open - very slowly. A moment later the
fleece-wrapped frame of old Hugh Bramblefleece is silhouetted there, leaning
heavily on his staff. The old man has a scowl on his face as he looks round
the store (after all, it was only a few months back he proclaimed he'd never
set foot in the place again, and that the whole building was 'unsafe'), but
eventually he limps forward a few paces, peering towards the sound of
coughing. At the sight of Megan the old man's craggy features crease in the
beginnings of a smile, and he clears his throat to mutter, "Good day ta ye,
Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher. Not seen Lucy, have ye?" David is given a blankly
incurious stare.

A shrug rolls over Megan's shoulders. "Well that's all well and good, but the
rest of us don't find it so wonderful.. them days we had a week ago- when the
sun was out and the snow was melted away; they were wonderful..." the
Breegirl shrugs again, looking back down to the book in her hands. At the
sound of Hugh's voice, she snaps it closed (raising an angry cloud of dust)
and looks over, a dazzling smile appearing on her freckled face- dimples in
her cheeks for added effect. "Mr. Bramblefleece! Good to see you're up and
about! Feeling better, then? I.. Oh? No, No I haven't, sorry..."

"Gettin' better slowly," is Hugh's grudging response to Megan's query. "This
stiff leg doesn't take kindly ta waitin', though. I was talkin' ta Timmy
Whitethorne out there, an' Lucy headed off, said she'd jist be a moment ...
that was a good while back. Hmmph." He grunts. "How's ye bin keepin' yerself?
An' is this," he waves a hand in David's direction (causing his balance to
waver for one long worrisome moment!) a friend of yers?" He tilts his head up
to give David a curt nod.

Megan looks rather sympathetic to all of Hugh's tale. "Well, it's good to see
you up and about, anyway... Me? I've been just fine! Fine as ever.. Had to
spend some time in Combe just the other day for a week or so lookin' after
the family as they were all sikly, but I'm back in Bree now..." now, one
eyebrow is raised as David leaves, and she offers Hugh a slight head-shake.
"Well, no, not exactly. I've seen him once or twice, met him once or twice
but don't really know him all that well..." Now she lowers her voice
slightly. "I wouldn't trust him... light fingers, as it were..."

"Ah, sorry ta hear yer family's not been well," Hugh mutters, features twisted
in genuine concern. "I do hope yer Ma is gettin' better?" He watches David
move away thoughtfully, then starts violently at Megan's whisper. "What? Eh?"
David may not hear it, but a few other folk do - including the storekeeper,
who gives the old man a hard look. "I'll .. eh, bear it in mind," Hugh
responds at last, clearing his throat. "How was things in Combe? No sign of
'em giant birds the whole town was talkin' of a few weeks back, eh?" Worry is
wakening in his brown eyes now.

Megan shrugs dismissivly, turning the book in her hands- apparently unable to
put it back yet. "Just a bit of a cold or somethin'... It was like what I had
a while ago, if you remember when I was sickly.. after I got back from the
Shire.. but they're all fine now. Mam's head was a bit tender before I left,
and Da was about to start paradin' around bangin' on pots and pans, but Anna
was better so she'll be able to take care of them better than I can!" she
says, a gentle smile on her lips. "It's true, yes.. Just.. well, watch your
pockets if he's around... Combe? Oh, it was all fine. No eagles, no, though
you might be interested to know that I spoke with a funny chap today- Mr.
Gandalf.. was smokin' and made orange smoke..." she gives a curt nod as if to
say: really, it's quite true!

"Orange smoke? Now that doesn't sound too healthy, methinks," old Hugh gives a
cough to clear his own lungs at the mere thought of it. "Mebbe ye should tell
this chap o'yours to get himself checked out at the healers?" Then the matter
is dismissed with a shrug. "Now ..." he notices the shopkeeper giving him
another glare, "where /has/ that Lucy got ta? Was there somethin' ye were
looking for in here, Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher? Place doesn't have much worth
buyin', if ye ask me."

Megan nods enthusiastically. "Yes- orange smoke, and smoke-rings and all
sorts.. My Andrick didn't like the look of him, but I told him not to be
silly- he was just an old man travelling through. He seemed plenty friendly,
though, so I suppose that's what's important!" Megan nods again, then shrugs
too. "I don't know.. I aint seen her.. I.. Oh, well I was thinkin' to get
Andrick a gift.. He's always buyin' me things and I haven't got him anythin',
but I can't think of what to get him! Not for the life of me!"

"Hrrm." Hugh gives the usual wordless grunt at the mention of Andrick, and
mutters very softly under his breath, "Some folk need ta learn how ta work,
not free gifts." The resentful words are quickly covered by a loud
throat-clearing, and then he scratches his head slowly, giving the appearance
of deep thought. "Well now ... is yer man a smoker? Ye could get 'im a pipe.
Else there's always somethin' like a new shirt - course they don't stock that
kind o' stuff here. Oh, by the way, Sally was fair pleased with that dress!
Looks a treat on her, it does." His face splits in a wide beam, that
disagreeable Andrick momentarily forgotten.

A gentle sigh escapes Megan's lips, and she casts her eyes downward
momentarily, setting the book back onto the shelf amongst the others (another
cloud of dust rising as she does so). "Andrick and I work plenty... I don't
know which one of us you meant but..." Megan's own reply is just as mumbled,
though she cuts herself off as she's about to get snappy and unpleasent-
taking a few breaths to bring herself back to a (now rather faked) cheerful
smile. "Nah, he don't smoke.. and a shirt en't very special... Oh well.. I'm
sure to think of something." Another half-hearted attempt at a smile follows.
"Well, that's good to hear! Did we pick the right colours and everything!
Andrick got my my blue dress, too- though I payed some of it.. but I'm not
allowed to wear it until our party, I don't think..."

"Eh ... yes. Colour was fine." Hugh has the grace to look embarrassed at
Megan's reaction, and clears his throat once more. "Shirt's a good useful
thing, ye know," he tells her now with a sage nod. "A man likes ta be given
things as are useful - not like women with all their fussin' over pretty
stuff." A pause while he takes a deep breath, and then his 'attempt to be
helpful' continues. "Has yer feller got any tools as is wearin' out? Ye could
try an' buy him somethin' like that." He's getting restless now, judging by
the swaying of his staff and the way his gaze darts round the room.

Judging by the expression on Megan's face she is (for one part) quite surprised
at Hugh's sudden helpfulness, and (for a second part) about to take down
notes (if she had a piece of parchment or something lying around) about what
men like, and what they don't like- after all, here's a man with experience!
"Oh? You think he'd like a shirt then? And.. well I'm not sure about tools..
we're about to set up our vineyard, but I don't know what tools he needs.. I
just wish I could get him something special, but maybe he wouldn't like
that.." The right hand has moved to the left and is absently toying with the
ring now- apparently she's quite at a loss, "Oh, I don't know." Brown eyes
too glance about the shop in response to Hugh's restlesness.

"Umm." Judging by the bemused expression on Hugh's face, he's no more familiar
with vineyards than Megan. "I don't know much about growin' stuff meself," he
mumbles at last. "Mebbe he'd need a spade fer diggin', or summat like prunin'
shears - but ye'd be better speakin' ta a farmer 'bout that." He shrugs,
helpfulness at an end. "And talkin' o' growin' things - did ye ever speak ta
Mister Thistlewool about this business o' our lawn? Lucy an' Walther wouldn't
do it." He heaves a quavering sigh.

"Maybe," Megan replies uncertainly before shrugging lightly. "Anyway, it don't
matter... I can just ask him, but not really ask him, if you get what I
mean..." Now she gives a sad shake of her head. "Well no- I didn't see him! I
still haven't seen him, and I pass by his house all the time... I didn't
rightly want to barge up to his door and.. Oh, it'll be alright though, Mr.
Bramblefleece! You can just plant it all again, and well, I'll help if you'd
like, and maybe even Andrick might a bit, and by spring it'll be as good as
new!" Guilt- masked by sympathy and offers of help. How predictable.

Predictable, perhaps - but old Hugh's face breaks into a smile nonetheless.
"Ye'd help? Really? That'd be much appreciated. An' little Betsy would-"
At that moment the door opens again and Lucy's scarfed head peeks in. "Why,
/there/ you are, Da! What on earth were you doing in here? I was up at the
drapers, you know." She gives a shake of her head, then dashes over to take
the old man by the arm. "Anyway, come along. We must be going - oh, and good
day to you, Mrs- Tasselberry, was it? Do excuse us." She offers Megan a
distracted smile and starts tugging Hugh away.

"Well of course I'd help! It's an unjustice been done, for sure!" This is
followed by a dazzlingly innocent smile (though one lacking perhaps in energy
but remaining nonetheless when Lucy enters). "G'afternoon, Ms. Cleave..thumb?
It's Tasselberry-Thatcher, actually... Nice to see you again, Mr.
Bramblefleece!" she calls out- raising a hand to wave.

"Tasselberry-Thatcher," Hugh absently corrects his daughter, in tandem with
Megan - why, he's finally got Megan's married name right! Wonders will never
cease. "Aye, it was nice speaking ta ye, lass. An' good luck with yer
shoppin'." That's all he manages before Lucy has whisked him through the door
and out of sight.