At the Fairgrounds

What Filby greets Nemo and Eaglo and introduces them to his new 'friend'. Who Filby Pott (#29680)...................himself, Trandon Upkem Nelleman (Nemo) Brockhouse (#13346)...himself Eaglo Hornblower (#29245).............himself White Downs
You have entered a region of silvery rolling uplands, known as the White Downs. It is rather chilly here year round due to the slightly high elevation, and a perennial fog rolls gently across the hills. Fluffy white sheep with black faces speckle the downs, grazing and going about their daily routine.

This area is used for many of the Shire's festivals and fairs, and a foggy path leads back east to the Delvings.
Contents:
Nelleman
Eaglo
Boxing Tent
Wooden Sign
House of Cards
The Nobottle Temperance League
Flea Market Booths
Pipeweed Shack
Honeysuckle Brownlock (Entertainment: Kissing Booth)
Wheel of Fortune
Pearblossom Starlight (Game: Icesucking)
Food Tent
Beer Tent
Pie Eating Contest Tent
Rat Racing Tent
Obvious exits:
West leads to Far Downs.
East leads to Gates of Michel Delving.
Links Field leads to Bandobras Took Memorial Golf Links.

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RL (Arizona) time is Fri Jan 26 17:29:22 2001 (+time).
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IC time is about 7 PM on Trewsday Thrimidge (May) 28, 1422 S.R.
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IC Weather Conditions
It is breezy and cool, the temperature a bit chilly for this time of spring. A warm cloak and mittens might do nicely on this Thrimidge day.
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The sun is beginning to set over the White Downs of the Westfarthing in the Shire. The Free Fair, at which the next Mayor of the Shire will be chosen, is just being set up, and hobbits are working everywhere putting up tents, shacks, and booths.

Filby Pott, a very old hobbit in a wheelchair, pushes himself through the fairgrounds nodding to those working. "Good work, lads! Remember, we've a tight schedule; we open in just over a month!" He chuckles. "And don't forget: vote for me!" He wheels the chair along.

Red flows the Brandywine; with flame the river kindles,
as sun sinks beyond the Shire, and then to grey it dwindles.

Walking slowly with his hands behind his back, a middle-aged hobbit approaches the open space where the fair is being set up. Taking a look at the people working in the sunset, he stops a moment in the vicinity of an old hobbit in a wheelchair...

Among the working people of the grounds is a dark-haired Scaring (known to some as Nemo). He turns at the sound of a slightly familiar voice and notices the passing wheelchair and the Pott transported therein waving like some King of old to his subjects (if the stories are to be believed). He leaves his chores by the beer tent and sets after Filby, "Hello, Sir!"

"All right..." says Filby at the sight of some workers putting up a tent nearby, "that's very good... I'd like to see Whitfoot get out among the people like this..." He mutters under his breath. "Get that rope, hammer that spike!" As Nemo approaches, the old hobbit turns his head and nods, calling, "Ah, good day, Mister Brockhouse." To Eaglo as he nears, he notes, "And good day to you, sir! Welcome to Michel Delving... and vote for me!" He chuckles.

Silently looking at the bustling work slows down for the coming of night, Eaglo's sight is taken away by the approach of a young hobbit and his call to the old man. And then he understands that he's being spoken to. "I'm sorry? Vote you? What for?" he asks to the old fellow.

Filby laughs. "Well, for Mayor. I am Filbert Pott, the Baron of Pott Manor, and I am running for the position of Mayor of Michel Delving (and may I note that my opponent, Will Whitfoot, has done nothing in the way of public services as I have)!" He chuckles.

Even though the Sun is setting and the breeze is turning chill, there's a flushed glow to Nemo's brow and cheek from the hard work. But judging from the tone of his voice, it has put him in a good mood nevertheless. "Evening, Sir", and he offers the blue-cloaked hobbit a polite bow. "Well, I think you can count on my vote, Mister Pott."

Eaglo looks down at the elderly hobbit, "Oh, I'm sorry, yes, I just recalled my manners. I am Eaglo Hornblower, something like a new addition to the Shire's population... Mayor of Michel Delving? Are the citizens of Whitwell involved in the election of the mayor of another town?" He then briefly turns to the youngster and bows in return. "Good evening to you, Mister... Eaglo Hornblower at your service..."

Nelleman smiles and says "Nelleman Brockhouse at yours, Sir", offering another nod just to make sure that his manners are not questioned.

"Well, thank you, Mister Brockhouse. I am rightly honoured." Filby smiles at Nemo's remark. "And you, too, Mister Hornblower. And the while the Mayor is the Mayor of Michel Delving, he controls the Watch, the Survey, the Messenger Service, and trade throughout the Shire. All citizens of the Shire are allowed to vote." Turning for a moment to Nemo, he smiles and asks, "Ah, Mister Brockhouse... you may remember how Mister Manan Mac Nanlyr is out there somewhere to... ah... kill me. But not to worry any more, for I have someone to protect me... please, follow me..." He wheels himself toward a large tent nearby. "I'll show you my new... ah, friend... who will protect me should Manan show up looking for me."

Uncertain what to do, Eaglo stands still, watching the wheelchair and its passenger leave toward a big tent... Boxing Tent

Boxing Tent This tent contains a square shaped boxing ring a bit above ground with ropes surrounding it. Other sports and training can happen here, yet, it seems the greatest is boxing, or other hand manuevers perhaps even wrestling. By the way most are practicing, it seems to be a gentlehobbit sport, and watchers and spotters stand in the four corners, being sure no one cheats should they be playing, or that no one is seriously hurt in training.
Contents:
Filby
Trandon Upkem

Nelleman has arrived.

Filby wheels himself into the boxing tent, a large, wide tent supported by a few tall wooden poles. In the centre is a boxing ring, and beside it is, oddly, a short (almost Dwarf-sized) human, punching and jabbing at an imaginary enemy.

"This," notes Filby to those following him, wheeling himself toward the man, "is Mister Trandon Upkem, among the greatest sportsmen in the north of the world. He has agreed to keep me safe should Manan Mac Nanlyr come my way."

Unsure if it's the right thing to do, but certain that Mister Pott would never have left before saying goodbye, Eaglo shily pokes his head inside the tent...

Trandon Upkem nods to those entering. "Aye, Mister Pott. G'day." He bows then goes back to his practicing.

Nemo's eyes goes up in a theatrical imitation of Anxiety as he follows Filby into the tent, "oh, you are not the only one afraid of his own well-being! I am happy to say that I have had no further commerce with the Man ... man." His comments trickles (leaving his mouth standing agape) out as Filby introduces them to the human fighter.

Eaglo looks at the new figure introduced to them by Mr. Pott and nods, a weird look in his eyes... "Is he really one of the Big Folk?"

"Yes..." smiles Filby, wryly, "The Man-Man will never bother -me- again..." He pulls out his pocketwatch and takes a look at it. "Well," he notes to Trandon and Nemo, "I'd best be going. Could you show... ah, Mister Hornblower? around the fairgrounds if you could, Mister Brockhouse? And yes, sir, Trandon is a man. A big folk, if you will. From either Bree or Dunland, I'm really not at all sure." With a smile, he wheels himself out the tent. "And thank you again, Nemo!" he calls as he leaves.