What Young Timpany Goldworthy brings Filby out of his shell and back into the world. Who Olfo Diggle (#16690)...Timpany Goldworthy Filby Pott (#29680)....himselfCold winter air makes even the sun seem an ice cube on this Winterfilth day - No comfort can surely be found on the streets of Michel Delving. Warmth, however, can, as a quaint little blackened shape delivers itself down the way to Pott Manor. The dirt pathe seems hard and yet somehow comforting, its coolness quite comforting the feet of the traveler. With three raps upon the grain making entrance to the Manor, the visitor announces its presence.
Filby Pott, returning from his walk, makes his way through the bustling streets of Michel Delving on his way home, to Pott Manor. Making his way up the small path he stops behind the visitor, knocking at the door. Following her example, Filby shuffles past her and raps on the door a few times with his cane before turning to the other hobbit and saying, "Hallo, there... is anyone home?"
Turning its head in a fluid motion, the visitor politely tucks its hood behind its ears, revealing startlingly amazing feminine features. With a voice that would warm any hobbit's soul, she replies, "I am unsure, sir. May I know yer name?" She swivels her entire form toward the hobbit, extending a hand - Fingertips neatly covered in some sort of long-dry wax.
"I am Filby Pott," replies Filby. Looking again confusedly at Timpany Filby says concerning the house, "I don't know... may I ask who lives here, and who are you by the way?" Awaiting the younger hobbit-lass' response he sits down on the stoop and looking pensively at his pocketwatch.
"Filby Pott?!" squeals the lass excitedly. "Why, I'd hoped you'd be here! I'm Timpany Goldworthy," says she, squatting through he cloak and dress to the ground only to offer her hand again to the elder hobbit. "Er... This is Pott Manor, isn't it?" she inquires, calmly and yet very hopefully, slight smile curving the ends of her red-waxed lips.
Filby takes Timpany's hand and pulls himself up. Turning and looking at the house he exclaims, "Oh yes, this is my house. I guess we should go inside..." Opening the round, blue door he steps into the front hall, richly decorated and filled with paintings and tapestries, though a bit square for most hobbits' tastes. Motioning to Timpany to follow, he sits down on a stool and removes his jacket while waiting for the lass.
Glancing up into the Manor, warmth tickling the nerves of her face, Timpany gracefully moves inside of the structure, shutting the cold out with the door behind her. "Why, thank ya, Mister Pott," she says with warmth and gratitude rich in her tones as she removes the cloak from her back and hangs it up neatly on a brass hook. "How do you fare?"
"I'm fine, thank you... though a bit cold." Filby stands up and steps through another round door into the sitting room, motioning again for Timany to follow. Sitting carefully down on a cushoined chair the aged halfling points to a bowl of small candies, "Do help yourself," he says, "Now what brings you... uh... here, madam... ?"
Nodding slowly, but vigourously, Timpany follows the elder Pott through one more door into the depths of his home. Politely refusing the sweet little candies with a guesture of the hands - Those soft hands - she reclines against the chair's plush back. "Well, Mister Pott, A few days back I paid a visit to Dollo and Signia, part of your family? We spoke of your... Son... Wilby?" she begins, pausing for a moment to wipe frustradetly at non-existant tears before continuing. "Wilby and I were... Close... And... I gave Dollo and Signia enough money to pay for a... Service," she continues, the non-tears being replaced by true ones - beads of saddness that drip from her pools. Pausing, she allows Filby to speak.
"Hmm? Dol... Dollo, yes he's my son in law." Filby, taking advantage of Timpany's disinterest in the candies leans over and picks one up for himself. Pondering the girl's words about Wilby he smiles and says, "Son? What son?"
Her beautiful face oddly contorted, Timpany's eyes and then her face fall toward the ground. In saddness she sobs for a moment, her mind racing slowly as she shakes her head infuriatedly and yet sadly. "M-... Mister P-Pott?" she stutters, her voice never loosing its angelic means. "Y- You know... W-Wilby?"
"Wilby, Wilby... Oh yes, I have a son named Wilby. I haven't seen him in a while though, I wonder what the whippersnapper has gotten himself into now." Chuckling quietly to himself Filby picks up a few more candies and pops them into his mouth. Seeing Timpany's tears he points to a small handkerchief by her chair. "Now," he says, "What about Wilby?"
Smiling a rather horrendous smile - Though still beautiful somehow - through her tears, Timpany says, "M-Mister Pott? W-W-Wilby is d-d-dead." Once more she bursts into a fit of crying, burrying her head into the cushions of the chair she occupies.
Hearing this news Filby snaps. He whispers, "Oh my..." then falls over, unconcious and slumping down in his chair.
Silence persists for some time, broken only by Timpany's incessant sobbing. At last, though, she lifts her head from the darkness only to burst through the door to further sullinity. "Filby?" she askes uselessly, swiftly coming to lean beside the fainted hobbit. "Filby?!"
Stirring as Timpany yells in his ear, Filby awakes and jumps to his feet. "Wilby? Dead? When? Where? How?" Frantically spewing such questions he begins to tire, and sits back down again.
Falling back onto the support of the heels of her feet as Filby leaps, and then onto her bumm, Timpany yelps in pain. "Yeow! M-Mister Pott?! I-..." she stutters, atlast falling onto her side and rubbing her buttocks in pain.
Filby +shouts, "What happened to my son?!?!?!"
Dropping to the ground as Filby shouts, Timpany covers her ears. "*M*ister Pott!" she exclaims, wriggling about oddly in an attempt to stand. "I won't have you shouting so!" she notes, squirming into a position on hand and knee.
Filby whispers, "What happened to my son?!?!?!" to Timpany.
"Hmm?" Timpany replies, squinting her eyes as if it would help her to hear. "Erm.. Oh," she says. "Wilby got lost one day on his w-w-way back from the h-hunt and n-no-one's seen him s-since," shes stutters, coming to a creased standing position.
Filby stutters for a few minutes then freezes as a statue. After about a minute he whispers, "Now I remember... I saw him go the wrong way at the Bridge, but I couldn't get to him... I told it to the newsboy, but then..." he pauses, "My mind snapped. I forgot everthing, but now I remember..."
Somehow, through all the saddness built into Timpany's wonderful face, she smiles - A smile of satisfaction? A smile of closure? Who could tell? Coming to sit by the aged hobbit, she places a hand on his back, uneasily curved over her bumm with a painful wince. She remains quiet - It seems the right thing to do.
Filby sits down and begins to wail.
Filby says, "I want my Wilby!"
Timpany pats Filby upon the back softly, her sobs at last coming to a close. "I-... I know, Filby... So do I," she murmurs, both in comfort and in truth.
Sitting sadly in his chair, Filby's tears fall down his face and drip off his chin. He looks to Timpany and stutters, "Do... is... will there be a funeral?"
"Indeed, there shall be a memorial. I personally delivered the money to Dollo and Signia.. You might write them concerning your... Mind... They were going to take care of the funeral, but I beleive it would only be right for you to do so, now," Timpany says seriously and yet softly, continuing to comfort her departed friend's father.
Filby, now crying a bit more softly, looks with wide but squinty eyes at Timpany. "Dollo and Sigina? Funeral? My mind? Everything is going crazy and I don't know what to do!" He slumps now into his seat and is silent.
Contorting as oddly as ever, Timpany squirms in her seat, saying to Filby, "Now, now. We'll settle this all real soon.. First, though, I think I may have to stop by Baggins Cottage." Guesturing to her bumm, she notes, "That's where Carnation is."
"Yes, I suppose you'd have to go to Carnation..." Filby looks sadly out the round windows. "I need to think about the funeral..."
"Indeed, you do," Timpany says with a nod. "I beleive I'll take my leave, to let you think. Perhaps I could borrow a pony? I noticed some stables around back and with my bumm like this..." she says, her voice trailing with a hopeful look to Filby.
Filby looks at Timpany and hands her a florin. "Here, spend it as you will..." Then he falls, again, silent.
Frowning, Timpany nods. "I... I'll write," she says, standing sadly and departing.