What
Filby and Firobrus get going with a debate.

Who
Frodo Baggins (#29612)........Basil Baggins
Filby Pott (#29680)...........himself
Firobrus Clayhanger (#???)....himself
Dharlon Took (#27754).........Serio Chubb

Filby steps up to a podium inside the tent, waiting for the debate to begin. He grumbles to himself, quizically watching the goings-on through his spectacles.

Firobrus shakes his head, "I'm Mr. Firobrus Clayhanger, not Took, ma'am. Now I'm ready." He looks over at Filby, then at the crowd, then at the moderator. He appears to be bracing himself for the soon to happen debate.

Basil scowls. "Ma'am - Ma'aM!!!!! It cannot have failed to escape your notice, CLAYHANGER, that *I* am no more female than you!" His expression black, he barks, "Mr. Pott! You may begin - first matter, that of the Ale Tax!"

"Yes, of course..." Filby straightens up. "Of course, ale tax... well," the Pott thinks carefully. "Well, were it up to me, ale would be taxed... though not as heavily as it was. All goods should be taxed, in my opinion, or the government of the Shire would not have enough funds for more important projects... like building, repair, education."

"Yes, pipeweed and beer," Filby says, "though not a heavy tax. Indeed, maybe no tax at all for such. Pipeweed and beer are, undoubtably, among the most important parts of Shire society. Thus, they should have a relatively low tax, if any.

"Ah - Very well then, Mr. Clayhanger - your commentary?" Basil chirps.

Firobrus straightens up, much as Filby did, then hems, "I agree, a small tax on all goods would be a good idea, I'll wager. But as we all know, taxing such things as ale and pipeweed was recently banned by an act of our mayor, Will Whitfoot. Myself, if I am elected, I plan to put a tax on tables to assist shirriffs in their duties; to buy them better equipment, to heighten their wages, the like."

Basil nods approvingly before barking, "Next issue, then - the matter of Buckland: Are they Shire or are they not?"

Filby nods to the question. "As most Bucklanders and most Shirefolk seem to agree, Buckland and the Shire are separate political bodies. The Buckland has had its own government for centuries, and will most likely remain so for centuries to come. Though the Mayor and the Thain have some influence in area, in my opinion the Master has the right to continue taking care of his people well into the future."

Basil glares at Firobrus. "Well, sir?"

Firobrus nods, "I believe that, yes, they should be seperate political entities, though I believe that there has been some bad feeling between us Shirefolk and the Bucklanders. We need to - er - close the gap, in a manner of speaking, and unite under one common cause: To remain unlike the Bigfolk, who are sometimes uncouth. We hobbits should be completely neighborly in every fashion."

Serio says, "Anycase anyone has noticed, Filby's campaign signs read his is fighting fo LOWERED ALE PRICES. just thought I'd mention it"

A newshobbit inturpts and says loudly "And yet sir, your campiagn signs CLEARLY read you are fighting for lowered ale prices. Why changing tactics now?" He says this in a very rude and impossing manner.

Basil grins and looks at Filby. "Indeed! Well, Mr. Pott? Care to share the answer to that EXCELLENT question with us?"

Filby coughs audibly at the question. "Ahem... I did not write that slogan. My son in law, also publicity manager, made it up without knowing my intentions. I tried to have him change it, but by the time I found him the damage had been done and the rumours that sprouted up could not be undone." He folds his hands behind his back. "Thank you."

The newhobbit mutters somethign about "clever excuse' and writes something down on his notepad.

"Verrrrrrry convenient, though, isn't it?" Basil purrs, eyeing Filby with interest. "To leave the posters up. . .oh my, oh my, oh my. Have you any comment, Mr. Clayhanger?"

Firobrus nods, "I would like to agree with you, Mister Baggins." He turns to Filby, saying in a trapping fashion, "Why leave the posters up, Mr. Pott? Why, when you knew that what they said was completely false?" His eyes twinkle and dance, pools of merriment.

Filby grumbles. "I tell you, I tried to have them removed, but my son would not hear of it. You can ask him yourself. That is all I have to say on the subject."

"Your son - or your son-IN-LAW?" Basil insists, though in silken tones. "First you say the second, then the first - which is it? And Mr. Clayhanger puts it superbly!"

Serio cannot repress a grin of delight as his pencil moves across the paper with amazing speed and even has to emit a quick chuckle at how uneased Mr. Pott is becoming

The Pott sighs. "Matt Prudhomme is my son in law. He is married to my daughter. I called him my son to make my comment go quicker."

Firobrus interrupts before Basil can say anything, "Ah, so you are in a hurry to leave? And why, Mr. Pott? Because you have something to hide? Well, answer!" He grins widely at Basil and Filby.

"Quicker, eh?" Basil queries keenly. "Well, who's to say you won't move quicker than a hobbit should with some key decision, eh? Hmmmmmmmmmmmm?"

The crowd jeers the debators on.

"I am not in a hurry to leave, I never said that I was. Do not put words in my mouth." Filby frowns. "I meant that I wanted to move on more quickly to other matters. I have no objection to continuing this subject later, if you deem it necessary."

"And for our NEXT topic - " Basil announces proudly, grinning like a hobbit with a basketful of mushrooms, "Speaking of Buckland. . .what are your thoughts on the - ahem - recent - "Dryad" - " here he laughs raucously - "matter in Bucklebury?"

Filby nods again, other matters behind him. "Yes, the dryad scare..." he collects his thoughts carefully. "I believe that there was not a 'dryad' in Buckland. Dryads, along with elves, dragons, satyrs, and all such legendary beasts, are just that: legends. I am not saying that those people died, nor am I saying that something terrible may have done it too them. There may be some derenged person killing these people, some person from away east or south, with some awful way of killing innocent people, but it is almost certainly nothing supernatural. Thank you."

Basil looks sharply to Firobrus.

Firobrus nods, "Well, yes, though I tend to believe that elves are real, for reasons I will explain at a later time, if deemed necessary. But I do not, however, believe in dryads. That is just silly superstition, and all alleged sightings of such are all concocted to keep reasonable folk from investigating the crime and catching the culprit. I - " At this moment, there is a disturbance in the crowd, which hurriedly rushes up onto the stage, and begins shouting, "You believe in elves?" and such things. Firobrus signals to Basil, mouthing, "Stop the debate!"

Firobrus fights his way through the surging masses, and out of the tent. You see him turn and walk back in the direction of Michel Delving before the tent flap closes.

Basil shakes his head disapprovingly. "Honestly! And not because of Mr. Clayhanger's remark, but for - other reasons - we will continue later - " With that, he steps down from the lectern and disappears behind the tent.