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Logs-Shire trip: A meeting in Stock Stock =================================
+SHIRE TIME ================================= Summer heat is in the air, though it is cut by the north winds, and splotches of clouds blot out portions of the night sky and its stars. There are several hobbits mulling about this time of night, the majority of them either smoking a pipe or letting their young ones play for just a little while before bed time. Among those smoking pipes is Sulo, apparently trying to practice his smoke rings (and boy does he need practice) which look more like smoky blobs with holes in them. He seems not to mind, though, and keeps on in his attempts, looking around from time to time from his position leaning against the side of the Golden Perch. The night is broken momentarily by what appears, at first, to be a grey shadow coming from the west.. And yet, as it approaches, it takes form until it could be recognised as a figure- one covered by a cloak that sits comfortably over its tall and slender frame. A hood is drawn over the figure's head, and coupled with the darkness it makes the face beneath unable to be seen. Here appears one at ease with the night and she (for this can be distinguished by the shape of the body; however hidden by the cloak it may be..) moves with careful and graceful movements.. Reaching the town she pauses momentarily- brilliant blue eyes sweeping the immediate surrounds, coming first to regard the statue of the hobbit, and then those smoking. From beneath the hood, a thoughtful "Hrrm..." could possibly be heard by any listening.. There is a third type of person out and about this evening - the type out for a pleasant stroll, who have ventured outdoors merely to soak in the weather. Such is the young hobbitlady approaching from the south. A soft smile plays on her face as she walks, her head up and shoulders straight. She seems to be singing quietly as well - if one is so generous to call it "singing." The lass in question cannot seem to carry a tune for the life of her, and she doesn't seem to care, either, a fact which reveals her identity. It is Chalcedony Brandybuck, blissfully oblivious and striding up the road into town. The figure doesn't go unnoticed by Sulo, but being the laid back sort that he is (as if his posture wasn't evidence enough), the utterance of the much taller figure goes unnoticed by him. What he does notice, however, is the attempt at singing and an eyebrow raises. He hesitates a moment, then slowly stands up straight and starts toward the "singer". "Have you got a minute, miss?" he asks, probably just in an attempt to make the singing stop, "I'm puzzled by something and I thought perhaps you could answer it for me." Chalcedony immediately looks over at Sulo, a bit startled and a bit more puzzled. However, in her current mood, there isn't much that will throw her off for long. She smiles and dips a ridiculously clumsy curtsey. "I can certainly try, sir," she replies, straightening. "What is it?" Dark eyes catch a glimpse of a movement, but as nothing appears immediately, the Brandybuck's attention turns back to the hobbit before her. Almost as soon as the singing has come into the figures range of hearing does her gaze turn and fix itself on the newly arrived hobbit. The singer is spared no more than a moment's regard; a wince could be obvious on the hooded one's face, and perhaps this is apparent from her shoulders- drawn ever so slightly inward, and her fists, which have clenched and then released again at her sides. It is mild curiosity that stays her now, or maybe she has a question of her own she steps forward and closer still, but hovers on the edge of uncertainty; not rushing into anything... "If it not too much trouble," The Stranger's voice drifts from beneath the hood- one lilting and gentle, and with an accent that would certainly be strange to these parts.. and in her voice there is almost caution; as if she were one afraid of intrusion.."I have a question, as well, though it does not matter which of you should answer it.." Blue eyes drift casually between the two hobbits there and she takes one more step forward and stops- now she is close enough and still comfortable there. Chalcedony looks over at the new voice...and then looks up. Her eyes widen, as does her smile, and she drops into yet another curtsey, this one a bit longer than the first. "Good evening, ma'am," she says, unable to completely conceal her enthusiasm at meeting one of the big folk. "I'll certainly try-" And enter Trudro. Her smile expands to a laughing grin. "Goodness, I seem to be the Answer-Lass tonight!" She takes Trudro's hand firmly, giving it a shake. "It is indeed, Mr. Brownlock. My name is Chalcedony Brandybuck." Releasing his hand, she looks back up at the other woman. "I hope I can answer your question so easily, ma'am." A brief smile spreads across the features of the figure- hooded still despite the warm air.. "Good evening, little-one.." She replies- a warmth in her gentle voice now, though entwined with the faintest amusement. A quiet laugh escapes her now, one almost musical and akin to bells or chimes, "You certainly do! Perhaps you are wise in this place then, that everyone should come searching you for answers?" As introductions are exchanged, the stranger falls silent again before nodding her head just once in contemplation. "Stock.. I am looking for somewhere.. with wine. Good wine.." Blue eyes glance momentarily to the door of the Golden Perch and one hand is raised and unfurled so a slender finger emerges from the cloak and points toward the door, lowering again moments later.. "I have heard many names of inns spoken, and as yet I have been able to find few only...Perhaps this one here?" "Well, you'll find none better than the Golden Perch," comes a voice from the aforementioned inn's doorway. A mug of ale in his hand, Talvo Hornblower steps out of the Perch, the sound of merriment erupting from the open doorway before the portal swings closed again. "I'd not realised as there were Big Folk in Stock. What brings you into the Shire?" Glancing away from the big person, Talvo nods to some of the hobbits nearby as he recognises, before turning back again. "We've a little of that sweeter wine as you seem to like in Bree inside, too, so you'll feel right at home." The smile immediately turns a bit sheepish. "I wouldn't say I was wise, ma'am," says Chalcedony. "Just that I've been a few places, here and there. But as for wine, well..." Chalcedony's expression is definitely sheepish now, but thankfully, she is interrupted by one Talvo Hornblower. "And right he is, ma'am." Raising her voice, she calls out, "Mister Hornblower! Good evening to you, sir!" Trudro looks at the tall person, asking, "Why are you wearing a cloak? Fear? Hiding something?" He look puzzled. It's too hot to be wearing cloaks and such. Isn't it? Somehow having gotten distracted by all the activity, Sulo seems to come back from a daydream of some sort and turns his attention to the inn. "Oh, goodness. Forgive me. I ... must have let my mind wander a little. I was just about to .. well, as Mr. Hornblower says, the inn here is great and I was thinking it was about time for some ale." He nods to the others, though doesn't greet anyone directly as he seems a little disturbed that he has let his pipe go out. Again those eyes turn and sweep to regard the newcomer, her lips now turning into a grateful smile. "Ah, that is what I suspected. I am glad, then, that I have come here.." Her head is nodded in thanks, though, after his question, there is a hesitant pause, and then very casually, she speaks one word; "Business. I am searching for something. And I am glad your wines are sweet; I shall have to try them, to see if they compare with that in Bree." Though that hesitation remains, she now looks to Trudro, and then Chalcedony; "It appears as though I have become the answer-lass now, perhaps. I wear a cloak because I like to. Why do you wear no shoes? It is all the same." she answers, though obviously aware that the questions weren't really answered at all.. "But there is nothing to fear in the Shire, surely!" Trudro chuckles, saying, "The shire is safe. There is nothing to fear. Only people with things to feared or people being chased have any reason to wear a cloak in the middle of summer." Shrugging, he looks over at talvo then walks to him. Extending a hand, he says, "Mr. Hornblower, is it? I'm Trudro Brownlock from Waymeet. It's a pleasure to meet you." "Well, good evening, Miss Brandybuck," replies Talvo, turning to the lass with a warm smile. "Ah, none too wise, lass, or you'd be inside supping a pint of Rolly Took's finest brew," jokes the innkeeper. "And a valid question our Mister Brownlock has, too," Talvo continues, giving a slight nod to Trudro as he turns back to face the big folk. He nods, at the answer, however, his warm smile returning. "Well, you'd best come inside and see what you think, then. Might I ask what business it is you're in, though; what you're searching for?" Flicking his attention back to Trudro, now, he nods again. "Evening, Mister Brownlock." Chalcedony can't help but raise on eyebrow at Trudro's statements, but her attention is once more diverted to Talvo. She nods once, apparently liking to idea of a drink. Turning to Sulo once more she says, "I'm sorry, what was your question, Mister...uhh..." She trails off as she suddenly realizes she has no idea to whom she is speaking. "Sorry, what was your name?" Sulo taps out his pipe and shakes his head in disappointment, putting it away as he looks over at Chacedony and her question. "Oh my, I think I've gotten so sidetracked that I forgot what my question was. Well, I think I can remember my name, though. Sulo Banks, miss. It's a pleasure." Looking toward the inn again, he asks, "Going in for a drink, then? Looks like we've got quite the crowd tonight." "I am not being chased," The stranger reassures, though she is quickly becoming uncomfortable in the situation; going so far as to take a half-step back, though making it subtle; one movement flowing into another so it would look little like a movement at all. "I am searching for a certain kind of wood; with which I might make a flute.." Not so mysterious a task after all, apparently.."But I think that I shall take up your offer and join you.. though, it sounded quite full, the inn.. I would not like to interrupt or frighten away your patrons.. And perhaps I should not fit inside, if we are all to join those already there.." Now obviously hesitant, she eyes the door to the inn uncertainly. Trudro "Wood?" the young hobbit questions quickly, "Well. If it is wood you seek. I might be able to help you. I know a little bit about these forests. What kind of wood are you looking for?" Smiling, he says, "Food and drink sounds like a marvellous idea." "Ah, not at all, miss," replies Talvo, shaking his head. "The Perch fits hobbits, longbeards and Big Folk alike. And we've a few bigger stools for your kind out the back, I'll have Marin fetch you one out. Ah! As it happens..." Taking a small sip of his ale, Talvo then motions northwards with the mug. "A Mister Brandybuck, Oliver Brandybuck, has a wood yard just up the road there, if you want to make a flue yourself. Or the market in Waymeet sells wonderful instruments. Ah, Mister Banks, didn't see you there! Good evening." "A pleasure, Mr. Banks. I would most assuredly like to indulge in a pint, but I do need to get a bit farther tonight..." Chalcedony smiles. "With all this crowd, perhaps I should just be on my way. More space for the lady..." She curtsies again, quickly, and nods to those assembled. "I'm sorry to be rude, but I think I need to be off. Less chance of me knocking over your good mugs, Mr. Hornblower," she adds dryly. "You are certainly full of questions, master Hobbit," The Stranger says; irritation surfacing in her voice now as she regards him. "I think I shall be fine in finding my own wood, thank-you.. Perhaps I shall visit this Mister Brandybuck when the morning arrives.." She says; inclining her head with another nod to Talvo. A brief sigh escapes her lips, and her head is now turned briefly to look over her shoulders. To anyone looking with keen eyes, perhaps a glimpse of pale skin or black hair could be seen in addition to those crystalline eyes.. "I think, perhaps, I have time for one drink.." Eyes glance to Chalcedony, and a warm smile graces her features; "Farewell, then.. May we meet again another time, perhaps I shall ask you some more questions about the Shire.." Grinning, Sulo replies to Talvo, "That's quite alright, Mr. Hornblower. I was lost in thought there for a bit anyway. But I do think I'll come in and enjoy some of your hospitality." Nodding at Chalcedony, he smiles and says, "Good evening, miss." before starting toward the door of the inn, his mind apparently set on ale now, for he listens to no more of the conversation on his way in. Chalcedony smiles up at the stranger and starts off, waving to those assembled. "Good evening, all!" And then she is gone, already singing again. With a soft chuckle, Talvo nods his head. "Goodnight then, Miss Brandybuck. Have a safe trip." He nods his head to the stranger, and gives a slight laugh. "You'll have to excuse us, miss," he informs her. "For those folks who aren't from round these parts, big folk as yourselves aren't all that common. Mister Brownlock here's probably not seen quite s'many of you as I have. But if you've questions about the Shire, you're more than welcome to ask me or Marin inside the Perch. If you're coming in, I'll fetch you one of those bigger chairs out from the back room?" Trudro smiles,
asking, "What kind of food you have hot, Mr. Hornblower? I'm hungry.
The walk form Waymeet could make anyone hungry!" "Oh, we've a fair selection," replies Talvo, pushing the door open with his free hand; a roar of laughter pours from the room as he does so, along with a flicker of firelight. "Beef stew, as always, and Marin made up some chicken and mushroom soup, earlier. Or we've the fried fish, if you fancy that." He steps over the threshold, hanging onto the door so it remains open for the others to enter. Nodding to the big folk, he replies, "Ah, well, if you want people to treat your business as your own, Miss, you'd best leave the Shire." He offers a rueful smile, "Hobbits are wary of big folk, and we're right to be, begging your pardon -- not that a single lass can be much harm, mind you." Trudro smiles, asking, "What kind of food you have hot, Mr. Hornblower? I'm hungry. The walk form Waymeet could make anyone hungry!" Laughing, he heads over to the Golden Perch's door as well. Trudro smiles and heads in, saying, "The chicken and mushroom soup sounds delicious. You'll have to give Miss Marin my compliments." smiling, he enters the established while he licks his chops. A smile again finds the stranger's hidden features and she nods twice- defeated, perhaps. "True, master hobbit, quite true. I do not mind the occasional question, but when an entire conversation is nothing but questions.. even you must find yourself irritated in such circumstances.." Now finding herself at the door she pauses a moment; that feeling of uncertainty surrounding her like the darkness.. and yet, even as the darkness is broken by the warm glow of the tavern, so is the figure's uncertainty and, ducking her head to accommodate for her height, she steps through. Allowing the door to swing closed behind the Big Folk, Talvo turns to Trudro with a large grin on his face. "I'll be sure to tell /him/ for you, Mister Brownlock," he replies, strolling over towards the bar and motioning for the pair to follow. "Marin!" he calls to the hobbit behind the bar, slamming his empty mug down. "Fill 'im up for me, if you'd be so kind? And Mister Brownlock would like a bowl of the mushroom soup. And our big friend here a glass of wine; which, you'll have to ask. I'll fetch you a chair more to your size, miss..." And with that, he shuffles out behind the bar, disappearing through a door. You head
into the Golden Perch for some liquid refreshment. Trudro chuckles, saying, "Yes, /him/. A hard day of farming in his heat makes any man not right in his mind sometimes." Smiling, he sits at the bar, saying, "Yes, hot mushroom soup. Just what i need after a long, farming day." Tentatively does the stranger enter the inn, and she remains by the door for some moments before courage has found her again, and she starts forward toward Marin. "You are this Marin, I presume?" She pauses, eyes roaming over the insides of the inn before she nods- apparently satisfied. "I am searching for wine. Good wine." There are those words again, repeated from outside, though now they are more of an order than an enquiry.. "Farming? What exactly do you farm, and where?" This question is asked, perhaps a slight too hastily, and so she stops, gathers her thoughts and finishes politely, though no smile now finds her features which are still hidden beneath the hood, "If it is no trouble, your telling me.." "I've done some farming m'self, in my time," replies Talvo, returning from the back room with a chair bigger than he is carried, somewhat awkwardly, in front of him. "There you are, Miss," he manages, dropping the chair down in front of the bar and seating himself on the stool next to it. "You sort the soup for this lad here, Marin, I'll get the wine. Good wine, you say? Well.. I think you might like the Old Forest Red that the Headstrongs make. Want to try a glass?" Trudro smiles to the stranger, saying, "No trouble at all. Keep no secrets, hid no secrets, is my motto. I farm the brownlock land, what little there is of it, over in Waymeet. And I farm whatever is in season." Chuckling, he looks around for his soup. Eyes turn sympathetic as Talvo returns, struggling with the chair, for already she has become anxious again and taken a step toward the door. "I must thank-you, though this will seem rude on my behalf, it has just come to my attention the hour, and I think it would be wise if I returned to my camp.. Tomorrow night, or tomorrow while it is still light I shall come to this inn again and join you for that drink, and we shall talk and introduce ourselves properly, perhaps." she says; still in that strange accent; gentle voice, stumbling occasionally over words.."For now, I bid you good night, until we next meet. And I apologise for making you fetch me a chair when I have not a chance to sit in it. Good-night!" and, nodding to them both, and Marin in farewell, she turns and steps into the night; door closing behind her again. Trudro looks around and asks, "that soup isn't ready yet?" Looking at Talvo, he asks, "What kind of farming have you done, Mr. Hornblower?" "That's
just where my land is," Talvo continues, shaking his head. "It's
a small world alright, isn't it? You know Benigo Brownlock, no doubt?
Not a farmer, of course, but he runs odd jobs for us up at the Whetmarrow
Farm." Taking a sip of the now refilled mug, Talvo nods his head
to the big person. "Not a problem, miss. I'll leave the chair out
for you tonight, over in the corner. Have a safe trip back to your camp."
His attention turns back to his shorter companion and he nods. "It's
on the stove out the back, Mister Brownlock, just needs serving and such.
And it's pipeweed holdings, I've got."
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