What
A scout from Imladris appears in Bree.

Who
Bavor (#25001).....Jon Goatleaf
Telelas (#10961)...himself

A figure sits under the lamp-light, hunched over a book. The book cant actually be seen, yet its presence is known from the figure turning pages from time to time. His firey autumn hair shines in the light that remains from the sky, and also the dim light which he sits near. A chuckle is heard from time to time as he reads.

A tall figure, tall and quite fat, pushes a cart full of... well, the contents can't really be seen very well in this light, but one can guess from the loud voice of the large man: "Vege'bles! Vege'bles for sale! Only five coppers a vege'ble! Fresh radishes!" The fellow's cries attract little attention at such an hour, but he continues pushing his cart.

The figure looks up briefly from his book, and continues with his reading. After a few moments, he bursts out in laughter. The laughter rings loud and clear through the dark night. He silences himself quickly, realizing how he had just bursted out in laughter. He checks his hair and pull it down over his ears, just to make sure...

The large, rustic Breelander stops in his tracks. He turns his fat head and stares with disdain at the other. "'Scuse me?" He drops the handles of his cart and puts his chubby hands on his large hips. "'Scuse me? Do I amuse y'sir?" He scowls.

The figure looks up. He says in clear, but strangely accented Westron, "Wha? Oh! I didn't know anybody was here! I'm sorry if I disturbed you..." He closes his book quickly, its Sindarin lettering shines briefly in the dim light. It hopefully would not have been noticed, unless looked for.

"Oh..." the Breelander stares quizically at the other, confusedly. "Well then... I should 'ope y'are, then..." He grabs the handles of his cart again and starts to push. He turns back, though, still keeping an eye on the stranger. "Right then... well... care for a vege'ble?" He drops the handles, wheels around, grabs a vegetable out of the cart and holds it right in front of the other. "'Ave y'ever seen a thing more noble 'an a radish, sir? A wonderful vege'ble it is, y'know... and it can be yours for the low low price o' five copper pennies, no tax, on sale today!" He smiles to himself, showing a number of crooked teeth.

The elf-in-disguise gives a strange look at the Vegetable salesman, and says, "Um, no thanks...I actually just ate at the Prancing Pony," strangely, he uses the full name, unlike the natives of Bree, "Maybe I shall have some later, if you catch me before breakfast." He smiles, while still giving the cartsman a strange look with his eyes.

"Aye... well... if y're ever in Combe look me up... Jonathan Q. Goatleaf, farmer extr-- extro-- first rate." The big fellow smiles to himself. "Right. Well then, y'don't look like a local... new 'round 'ere? Can I 'elp you?"

"Aye," says the red-head, trying to make himself sound more human, he experimentally tries a contraction, here and there, "Y' could say that, but sure I'll look you up." He smiles, hoping it doesn't draw more attention to his existing accent.

Jon quirks an eyebrow at the other. "Riiiight..." he studies the other. "About that accent... y'might want to get that fixed..." With a slow shake of his head he picks up his wagon again and makes his way through the market again, muttering under his breath about "them bloody foreigners" and disappears around a corner.

Having picked up the mutterings with his kine elven hearing, the red-head gives a nearly incomprehensable look, for a human to understand, that is. The elf-in-disguise picks up his book, and stands up slowly walking off towards the Pony, chuckling softly at the peddler's behavior towards his being a foreigner.