Logs-Tree
Climbing
Combe
Stream: North Bank
Along the North Bank of Combe Stream are paths through the forest that
meander
at will in any and all directions. The trees of the forest grow straight
and
tall, and are fairly spaced apart. There is little sign of undergrowth
here,
but signs of animal life abound, especially near the water.
The day sky
is cloud-filled and gloomy. The early morning summer air is very
hot and dry around you.
Obvious exits:
North leads to Path through Chetwood.
South leads to Combe Stream: South Bank.
==================================
Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Thu Feb 12 02:51:22 2004
Bree time: Early Morning <7:33 AM> on Sunday of Summer - June 5,1431
Moon Phase: New Moon
Breelands
Weather
The early morning summer air is very hot and dry around you. The day sky
is
cloud-filled and gloomy.
===============================================================================
It is early
morning in Combe (and obviously, in Bree) and summer has settled
in- already the air has lost its crispness that was typical of spring,
and
indeed the dry heat of summer hangs over the forest- the clouds only adding
to a growing humidity. Though, underneath the shade of the edges of the
Chetwood, things are cooler, and one figure who seems to have forgotten
about
the heat (much wrapped up in childhood memories, it appears) is now
scrambling up the trunk of a tree- struggling momentarily, but then
continuing her way up. Curly brown locks are tied back so they don't snag
on
any branches, and now pausing on a branch and sitting there unconcernedly,
Megan Tasselberry-Thatcher peers down at the forest floor and stream below-
waiting and watching, and catching her breath.
Along the
path, a little red-faced, comes Andrick, with beads of sweat on his
forehead, looking from left to right, a slightly frustrated expression
on his
face. He calls, "Meg! Hi, Meg! Where've yer got to now?" Despite
his
predicament, though, his sense of humour is not utterly lost, and he laughs
at himself as he sits down, back against the trunk of the tree at whose
top
sits Megan.
An odd sound
comes from a little way up the path, a sort of scuffling noise,
followed a little later by a man's stern command, "Lassie, leave
it! Likely
the rabbit's not even there. Come, old girl." The scuffling stops,
to be
replaced by shuffling footsteps ... and then an odd pair come into view.
Old
Hugh Bramblefleece has abandoned his fleecy jacket in this warm weather
(and
his shirt-sleeves are rolled up too) but still clutches his usual staff,
and
he leans on it now as he pauses for breath.
Then his
head jerks up. "What? who's there?" he demands, peering towards
Andrick. The elderly bitch at the old man's side pads forward to sniff
at
Andrick's feet.
From within
her tree Megan giggles silently to herself- clasping a hand over
her mouth and attempting to keep still as Andrick sits beneath her
tree...Eyes glance up and along the way as Hugh approaches and carefully
she
reaches across to a nearby branch where- conveniently there grows several
decent-sized pinecones... Carefully and quietly plucking these from the
branches, she takes aim, and drops them down on Andrick (though not aiming
for any part of him in particular- obviously not wanting him to be knocked
unconcious!).
Andrick
looks quickly at Hugh, after his call, then rolls his eyes and looks
at the ground, "Mornin' Mr. Bramblefleece." he says, dutifully.
He then looks
at him again, squinting slightly in the sunlight coming through the leaves,
and says, "Yer ain't seen my Meg about, 'ave yer?" Conveniently,
he is then
rained upon by a barrage of fircones, and he raises his arms up, shouting,
"Agh! Pesky squirrels!" He looks up, only to see Megan, not
a fleeing
squirrel, and says, "Hi! There yer are! What're yer doin' up there?"
He makes
no mention of the cones.
Hugh blinks
as he watches the scene from a safe distance, then lets out a
wheezing chuckle. "Morning, Mister Thatcher - no, I ain't. Heh, looks
like
the squirrels round here have taken a dislike ta ye. Feisty little beasts
they can be, when they're not happy about summat."
Lassie, on
the other hand, lets out a sharp 'yap!' as a pine-cone goes whizzing
past, narrowly missing her tail, and points her whitened muzzle skywards
to
sniff towards the treetop from whence the sudden missile came. A moment
later
she's stepped up to place her paws against the treetrunk not far from
Andrick, whining and straining to lift her aged body up.
"Here
I am!" Pipes Megan, swinging her legs beneath her as she sits on
her
branch- one hand holding the trunk, and the other the branch beneath her.."I
were climbin'.. Me and the twins used to climb up in here all the time
and..
OOh.. It's Mr. Bramblefleece.." and here her voice has lowered as
if already
preparing to get in trouble for throwing pinecones..."Mornin', Mr
Bramblelfeece!.. Lassie!" Comes her voice from up in the tree- rising
in
pitch as the elderly dog appears at the base of the tree..
Andrick
says, "Aye, I can see." He looks at Lassie, and sniffs, then
stands,
and looks at Hugh. "Ain't no squirrels launchin' them pinecones."
he nods in
the direction of Megan, and grins. "I used to be a fair climber meself,
doubt
I could do it these days though." He says, wistfully. He winces,
and rubs his
right shoulder, where the heaviest of the fircones fell. "D'yer 'ave
to do
that, Meg?" he chastises, with a slight grin on his face.
The old man
shakes his head and peers through the leaves in the direction of
Megan's cheery voice. "Well I never! A grown woman like yerself shouldn't
be
scramblin' round in the trees like a schoolgirl," he tells her, always
ready
to oblige with a scolding. "It ain't safe, ye know. Branch might
break." To
Andrick he adds, "An' I hope yer goin' ta help the young lady down
from
there?" To the dog he whistles, and calls out, "Oy, Lassie.
Down, girl."
The words
might as well not have been spoken for all the attention Lassie pays
them. But alas the elderly dog' paws don't seem to get a good grip on
the
bark. She slides back to earth with a thump, rolls over and whines softly,
contenting herself with a flurry of yaps instead as her nose points up
towards Megan's dangling feet.
Megan too
looks doubtful at Andrick's climbing ability, but stands on her
branch (clinging still to the trunk- even she isn't confident enough to
just
stand there and rely on balance...) "I aint doin' it any more. Just
you were
lookin' for me, and I could help it," she replies playfully, before
trying to
look sincere; "I'm sorry if I hurt you.." though, her words
convey that she
isn't sorry at all- unless he's seriously injured and in need of medical
attention...
Now being
told off by Hugh, Megan shines with innocence. "It aint goin' to
break, Mr. Bramblefleece, and I know what I'm doin'- I've been up here
plenty
of times before..I'm plenty safe, and I can get down myself," she
says
proudly and makes as if to go down, but instead moves up a few more branches-
humming happily to herself as she goes- stopping again when she's high
enough, apparently.
Andrick
rubs his shoulder again, playing for the sympathy, and winces,
exaggerating dramatically. "Nah," he says, "I'll be fine...jus',
gi' me 'alf
a moment." He looks slightly worried as Megan climbs yet higher,
but shakes
his head, and says to Hugh, "I don't reckon she needs me 'elp, but
I do 'ope
them branches'll 'old 'er. She's light enough, but it ain't goin' to stop
me
bein' nervous."
Hugh considers
that, peering up towards the shaking boughs. "Aye, some of 'em
branches don't look too strong ta me," he comments to Andrick. "But
then, ye
bein' a big fellow, guess ye goin' after her would just make it worse.
An'
I'm an old man, me joints wouldn't take it if I tried ta get up there."
Having thus excused himself, he casts about for something else to talk
about
... "Awful warm weather we're havin', isn't it?"
Lassie gives
one final disappointed 'yap!' as Megan moves away, further out of
reach, then goes back to snuffling about the tree-roots in search of
something interesting.
Perhaps finally
looking guilty, Megan turns and starts to begin her descent-
already struggling, though she calls down to the two of them reassuringly:
"I'm fine- no need to be nervous!" Though there is a worried
quiver in her
voice that perhaps gives her lie away... "Oh I wouldn't want you
climbin'
anywhere, Mr. Bramblefleece," Megan grunts- trying to unhook her
arm from a
particularly tricky branch... "And it's warm, aye..." a pause,
"Yes.. but not
terribly hot.."
"Hrmm."
Hugh shuffles a few steps away, out from underneath the tree, so that
he can gaze up without getting a crick in his neck. "Ye know, some
of those
branches look a bit on the thin side," he remarks thoughtfully, then,
seeing
Megan's struggles, "Are ye sure they're meant ta be thrashin' about
like
that? Eh, me, it /is/ warm." And he lifts a hand to wipe his brow,
where dots
of nervous perspiration are visible.
Lassie simply
ignores the tree's human inhabitant, busy digging away at a hole
between the tree-roots.
One foot
slips out from beneath her, and another branch bends dangerously, and
a frightened yelp escapes Megan's throat and quickly she moves to grab
a hold
of the trunk- standing stock still until she's regained stability.."They're
fine.. And they aint trashin'.." Of course, anyone with.. well, perhaps
better eyesight, or more insight into these kind of matters could see
the
disaster unfolding for it's certain now that if the Breegirl moves, the
branch may give way beneath her or she'll certainly again lose her balance-
her breath now short and shallow, though her face trying to hide her fear...
Hugh shades
his eyes with his hand as he peers up again. "Well, if yer sure ...
want us ta jist leave ye in peace ta climb down?" he asks helpfully.
"Wouldn't want ta disturb yer efforts, or anythin'." He nods
towards her
skirts, and coughs.
Lassie stops
her digging and looks up, then starts to back away from the tree
with a faint whine emitting from her as she does.
Down she
drops finally, and lands (rather heavily) on the branch below-
teerering there a moment before again regaining her balance and sitting
herself down. "I'm nearly down, Mr. Bramblefleece!" Megan calls
back
confidently- of course, from here on down there's no more useful branches
and
she's already rather hot and flustered. As she sits, she smoothes out
her
skirt and bites her lip- looking down to Lassie worriedly. "What're
you
whinin' about? It's all fine!" She repeats- reassuring herself as
much as the
dog.
"Eh,
glad to hear that," Hugh responds heartily. "Gives me a funny
turn,
watching ye leap about like that. Breefolk weren't meant ta be squirrels.
An'
I suppose if ye /did/ fall now, it's not far an' there's lots of nice
soft
mould ta land in ... or else yer husband can catch ye." A veritable
beam
stretches across his seamed face at that suggestion.
Lassie meanwhile,
continues to regard the tree with suspicion. The dog gives
one final whine, then suddenly turns her back and with tail waving trots
off
down the path, in search of something else to hold her attention.
"I've
had lots of practice," Replies Megan, and sure enough she begins
to edge
her way down the trunk- pausing halfway- muscles in her arms straining
and
then- with another yelp of surprise and sharp indrawn breath- she's falling
through the air and- despite Andrick's efforts at moving forward to catch
her- she lands on the ground with a dull thud and for some time, she doesn't
move- but lays and breathes- eyes closed (and as every second passes,
a tiny
smile is growing on her face).
At the sound
of a thud, a bark echoes from down the path, but Lassie doesn't
come back into view. Hugh stares from his disappearing dog to the fallen
Megan, frowning in what looks like decision - and then delayed reaction
kicks
in and he hobbles forward, breathing heavily. "Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher?
Can
ye hear me?" he asks, leaning over - well, she'd have to be deaf
not to, with
the volume he's using. "Are ye all right?" Andrick, of course,
is probably
more used to Megan's ways by now.
A groan utters
from poor Megan and she turns her head to the side (perhaps Hugh
has bad breath?). Andrick is, in fact, used to Megan's antics, but worries
still- also looking over in concern.. Eyes snap open- looking straight
up at
Hugh, and they are wide and frightened and then she glances over his shoulder
and cries- "Look out!!!" Though, of course there's nothing there;
she's just
checking his reaction times, and measuring his response too, of course.
"Wh-
what?" Hugh whirls - or tries to, unfortunately his aged limbs can't
quite
keep up with his brain. And thus it is that he finds himself teetering
backwards. The old man frantically throws out an arm to compensate, but
only
succeeds in altering the direction of his motion ... the next moment he's
tumbling towards the prone Megan! Wonder how good her reactions are?
Megan has
(unfortunately for her) burst out laughing as Hugh turns and begins
to fall (of course every time she plays a trick on him it turns out /much/
better than expected...), and then- noticing his direction in /her/
direction, she manages to gather her senses about her and roll to the
side-
wincing as she rolls onto an arm- perhaps one damaged in the fall (some
people will be glad to know she didn't get off scott-free at least)...
then,
safely out of the way, the laughter fades into delighted giggles. "Mr.
Bramblefleece!" she calls in concern (though concern rather lacking
in
genuinity)
Hugh simply
lies where he falls, face-down in the dirt. "Eh, me ..." he
groans,
and then, without either moving or lifting his face away from the leaf-mould,
asks indistinctly, "Did it fall? The branch?" The panic in his
wheezing tones
is clear and it's a long moment before he adds a concerned-sounding, "Are
ye
all right, Mrs Tasselberry-Thatcher? Yer not ... cryin'?"
Up sits Megan,
and she regards him as one would regard a young child unable of
helping itself. "Nah, it didn't fall.. 'twas another of them fircones..
I saw
it up there and thought it were comin' at you.. landed a way off, though..."
she explains in all seriousness; nodding her head solemnly to emphasise
the
point. "I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Bramblefleece.. just a bit of bruises
on my
arm here after the fall.. cryin'? Aint no need for cryin'.. was just a
little
fall from the tree and a bit of a fright from a pindecone.."
Hugh can't
actually see the nodding of Megan's head, given he's still lying
face-down. "Thought I heard cryin' or somethin'," he mutters.
"Glad ta hear
yer fine - oughhh. Amazin' what trippin' can take out of ye, eh?"
Finally he
groans and rolls over onto his back, brown eyes staring up at the sky
from a
face that's bespeckled with dirt and the skeletons of last year's autumn
leaves. "Think I'll jist rest here a bit an' get me breath back,
if ye don't
mind," he tells his companions now, lifting his head long enough
to look at
them. "Mister Thatcher, ye should get the young lady here back ta
the village
an' sit her down ta rest. Cup o' tea's the best thing fer a fright. Oh,
an'
tell my Sally ta have some ready fer me too, will ye?"
Already Megan
is reaching out to take Andrick's hand with the intention of
leaving even before Hugh has suggested it. "Oh, I hope you en't badly
hurt,
Mr. Bramblefleece...Good idea- you take a rest and we'll go find Sally...
Feel better!" Megan says- smiling brightly and innocent down to the
old man-
eyes shining in delight and with much micchief. After all- this has been
a
rather successful day! One hand is raised from both of them to wave, and
then- hand in hand, Andrick and Megan both wander back to Combe- laughing
and
chatting happily as they go.
Whereas old
Hugh simply drags himself across the ground so he can lean against
the treetrunk in a sitting position, and mutters, "These young folk.
Don't
think I can take much more .. ehhh." In a few moments his eyes are
closing,
and soon after the gentle sound of snores are coming from the old man's
direction. Likely by the time folk actually get round to looking for him
it'll be gone lunchtime.
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