What
Belfast Hardbottle (aka Belfast Brewer and Belfast Gardener) of Bree arrives in the Shire.

Who
Belfast Hardbottle (#???)...himself
Filby Pott (#29680).........himself
Reginald Bolger (#10657)....himself

[Unfinished]

A hobbit is standing on one side of the street wearing a worn cloak and carrying a walking stick. He looks around curiously and you get the impression that he is a traveller.

Another hobbit, this one much older, rushes through the street, often pulling out his pocketwatch and checking the time. It's Filby Pott, off to work again. He is carrying a suitcase today, with some papers sticing out here and there.

The traveller rushes through the street after the old hobbit. He says, "Excuse me, sir!" and taps the hobbit on the shoulder.

"Well what do you want, I'm in a hurry!" Filby turns to see the other. "What can I do for you? And make it quick, I can't be late." He studies the other quizically. "Not from around here, are you?"

And yet ANOTHER hobbit, not particularly surprising as they are in the shire, has seated himself in a rickety old chair outside the Delving. The plate of warm flapjacks in his lap are accompanied by a wooden fork and knife. green eyes devour them hungrily even before the brightly clothed figure of Reggie can lay his utensils on them and stuff the first oversized bite into his widel;y smiling mouth.

The hobbit responds, "No, I'm from Bree, actually. My name's Belfast. Do you have any idea where I can find the Brewer's Guild?"

"Guild, eh? Not many of those in the Shire..." FIlby scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I know that Mister Brant Thudder of the Lucky-Tucky Inn in Tuckborough owns a brewery... though I haven't had much business there in quite a while. I know that there isn't a Guildhall, though there's almost certainly an organization of some sort."

Belfast nods and recenters the heavy-looking pack on his back. He says, "Thanks, I've only just come from Bree and I'm a little lost. If you ever want some ale, just come find me and I'll supply you with a keg of the finest between the Havens and the Bruin."

Filby nods knowingly. "Ah, a Breelander. Good to make your aquaintance. I used to stop by there regularly." He thinks for a moment. "Havens and... Bruin, you say? I've heard of the Grey Havens, though I haven't actually been there... and where is the Bruin? Is that like the bear fellow, Beorn, in old Baggins' story?"

Belfast says, ""Ah.. Baggins. Such a story, yes? I've never made his aquaintance personally. I was travelling when he came through Bree. The Bruin is a great river that flows just on this side of the Misty Mountains."

"Ah, the Misty Mountains..." Filby nods again. "I've always wanted to see them, though not cross them... I remember when a pair of Goblins came to the Shire, and if there's hundreds of them in the Misties, I'm keeping my distance." He thinks. "Though I do have a few aquaintances from beyond the Misties... Dwarves, mostly. I'm working on setting up better trade routes between the Shire and Lonely Mountain, actually. I don't care what most people say, most Dwarves are actually very nice when you get to know them."

Belfast nods heartily. "Yes, I have come across many peoples in my dealings. Elves, dwarves, men of all races. I am what you would call a wanderer. I have been places that most hobbits will never dream about. But I, too, have never been over the Misties.

Filby nods a third time. "That's very interesting... I used to be a bit of a traveller, too. From the Blue Mountains to Bree, I've seen quite a bit. But..." he sighs, "my old bones aren't what they used to be, if you know what I mean..."

Belfast looks quizzically at Filby. "You don't happen to be a Took?" he says.

"Oh, that Clodo Baggins would have a fit if he heard such talk!" Reginald exclaims jokingly from where he's seated. All that's left on his plate is a shean of syrup. "An absolute fit!" The bright smile decorating his cherub face is enough to express that he's in no way upset by their talk of dwavres and elves and other such 'nonsense'. "As would half the Shire no doubt!"

The traveller notices the hobbit sitting in the chair. He says, "And who might you be?"

Filby laughs out loud at this. "Haha... if only. I'm a Pott, from the Delvings here. And Mister Bolger..." he turns and nods to Reginald, recognising the voice, "I'm sure he would, little Clodo. Now introduce yourself to this nice fellow, why don't you?"

Belfast turns to Filby and says, "The only hobbits I've ever had much in common with have been Tooks. Just something about the blood."

Filby continues nodding. "Yes, those Tooks are an interesting lot. A few oddfellows there, if you know what I mean. Isengar going to sea, Hildi-- Hild-- Hildisomething wandering off... though even the strangest are respectable in my opinion."

Revealinga mass of red curls, Reggie lifts his wide brimmed purple hat and waves it enthusiastically at Belfast, it's long pink decoration dancing wildly int he air. "Reginald Bolger, specialty saleshobbit at your service!" He announces while propelling himself to his feet and setting the plate down in place of his bottom.

Belfast walks up to where Reginald is seated and extends his weathered and calloused hand graciously, with an uncharacteristic charm, to Reginald.

Belfast says, "I'm Belfast, just recently come from Bree."

With a smiel to swallow the sun the Bolger accepts the offered hand, shaking it vigorously three times before realising it. "A pleasure Mister umn.. Belfast. An absolute pleasure! Recently from Bree hmnnn? Tell me then,w hat brings you this deep?"

Filby nods in agreement. "Yes, that would be an interesting tale."

Belfast realizes his mistake and says, "Mr. Hardbottle, sir. But Belfast is fine."

(OOC: He was previously known as Belfast Brewer, and later as Belfast Gardener. Whether he was changing his name to ICly conceal his identity or if he just couldn't choose one name OOCly is so far unknown.)

"I'm a wanderer, if you will. Bree just didn't appeal to me anymore. I'm sure the Shire will be a welcome change." says Belfast.

Filby looks at his watch. "Well... I'm running late. Pardon me, Mister Hardbottle, I must be going. I should hope we meet again." He bows to Belfast and waddles down Rose Lane on his way to the office.

Belfast waves after the old hobbit and turns to Reginald.

"A wanderer?" Reggie arches an eyebrow at the Breefolk. His smile lessens not one iota. Leaning closer Reginald says conspiritorially. "Might want to keep that under your hat hmnnn? Folks round these parts don't take to kindly to the odd. No they don't!" He giggles, not unlike an excited child. "Thrive on regularity I suppose. Why I was discussing such a point no more than a week ago!"

Belfast says, ""Really? There are other travellers here?""

"Of course there are! But... it's not eaxctly REGULAR. We trade with Breefiarly often. Why longbeards are considered extraordinary. And fair folk.. almost unheard of. For the most part our trade is internal however. The shire is rather.. self-dependant. Most outsiders are frowned upon by a rather large percentage of the locals." He motiosn to Clodo's sign in the town center. "Even Breefolk. Rather sad really." A wide grin is produced to cut through the seriosuness of the conversation. "Just a warning."

Belfast says, "Clodo Baggins? Is he related to Bilbo Baggins? I would think he, of all people, would be sympathetic to outsiders."

Reginald thumbs his chin. "Perhaps.. Maybe somewhere down the line." The Bolger gives a shrug of indifference. "Mister Baggins was considered particularly odd Mister Hardbottle, even by his own family. MANY in the shire thumb their noses at him. Wandering off like that just isn't considered... PROPER! Not by most standards."

Belfast says, "I never met the fellow. I was travelling when he passed through Bree. The stories though.. quite exceptional."