A Ranger in Hobbiton

What
A Ranger shows up in Hobbiton, and gossip follows.

Who
Glendorin (#25599).............himself (Arnorian human)
Filby Pott (#29680)............himself, driver
Belarose Goldworthy (#22735)...himself
Midien Took (#24687)...........himself

Little moves outside on this dark night in the Shire. Most sensible hobbits are asleep in their beds, of course. The moon can't be seen, not having risen quite yet, and snow covers almost everything.

Well, not all is quiet and still. Anyone in the western bounds of Hobbiton might note the sound of ponies clopping along the road, and wheels crunching snow underneath. The dark shape of a wagon can be seen coming up from the east, two ponies leading, the driver a hobbit in a heavy black coat and a black top hat. The coach moves on through the night, not in a hurry, passing smials and houses on its way out of Hobbiton.

Striding silently through the streets of Hobbiton, a young one of the Big Folk moves about. His eyes scan the area carefully, his ears noting each sound.

The young man is Glendorin, apprentice horse-trader, though strangely, during this late visit, he wears a sword on his belt.

The coach moves on through Hobbiton. As it approaches the edge of the town the driver turns about and speaks something through a curtain-covered window at the front of the wagon to someone sitting inside. Someone's shrill, cracked voice sounds from inside the coach. The driver nods and turns back around. He mutters to himself as he guides the ponies along.

Glendorin eyes the coach warilly, with an eyebrow raised. Straining his eyes in the moonless dark, he studies the blck cloaked driver closely. Finally able to note the driver's size, Glendorin relaxes a bit, and rests against a small cottage, laughing softly to himself for thinking there was cause for alarm, yet feeling ashamed for hoping there was.

The driver catches sight of the man as the coach moves along. He pulls on the reigns, stopping the ponies, and turns around again to speak through the window. This time his voice is audible.

"Eh gov," he says to the concealed person inside, "there's a stranger outside. Looks to be one of 'em Big Folk from what I can make out."

The old voice sounds from inside the coach again. "And what of it? Just move along... mabye he won't notice us..."

"Whatever y'say, gov," mutters the driver, moving the ponies along once again.

Glendorin watches the coach closely, with a smile.

"I think he's seen us, gov," mutters the driver to the rider. "What'ye think we should do?"

"Well then, don't just stare at him, you ninny!" calls the sharp voice from inside. "Say something to him, don't just sit there like an idiot."

"Right, Mister Pott, sir... but, uh... you know I don't like Big Folks..." The driver stops the coach again and just stares at the man.

"Fine, fine! I'll talk to him!" The voice speaks again, and at last shows himself as he pops his old, wrinkled face out a curtained side-window. "You there!" the old hobbit cries as he sees the man, "Who are you then, and what are you doing in the Shire?" He stares through a small monocle at the Big Person.

The "warm" welcomes he has been recieving from the Hobbits never ceasing to amuse him, Glendorin again laughs softly. He looks to the withered and aged Hobbit and as he boaws gallantly, he smiles warmly.

With a sparkle in his steely grey eyes, he says, "Good eve to you sir, I am Glendorin, apprentice horse-trader to Master Angroch. We've been visiting these parts since the lovely wedding that happened here recently. I'm afraid I've had some trouble sleeping, and thought a stroll in the cool night's air would do me good."

"Aye, I see," calls the halfling back to the man, still watching him closely, "as long as it's peaceful business as trading, I'm sure you'll not see too much opposition in your travels... though I daresay you won't find many hobbits who would purchase horses." He studies the other carefully. "I don't suppose I might ask for where you are headed, sir? And where might you be from? Bree, I suppose?"

Pushing himself off the cottage he was leaning against, Glendorin stands tall beside the small coach. With a nod, and a look to the ponies that pull it, another smile creases the young man's face.

Pausing briefly before responding, Glendorin says, "Aye sir, I've no intentions of selling horses here. I am currently here looking for Master Torvo. He graciously invited me by to share some ale and swap tales."

As if as an afterthought, he adds, "Master Angroch and I were in Bree for horse trades."

A soft crunching sound drifts up the road, the type of noise caused by someone stepping lightly on snow. Patter . . . creak . . . crunch. The figure causing the noise - a small, heavily bundled person, with hands stuck in a muff and a large bonnet pulled far over her face. Slung over one shoulder is an black ice skate, dangling from a cord, it's blade gleaming slightly in the soft glow of the moon.

Patter . . . creak . . . crunch. The figure - Bellarose - comes closer, head bent to look at the snow beneath her feet, until the sound of voices drifts westward to her ears. Glancing up suddenly, a surprised expression might be made out underneath the hood of the bonnet . . . and then, a softly muttered grumble.

"I see," calls back the old hobbit in the coach. "Well then, may your travels be pleasant and uneventful." He begins to pull back into the window, but moves back out again. "As for Torvo... I believe that he's in the area of Hobbiton-Bywater. If you can't find him here, I'd look in Hardbottle, for his family has holdings in and about that town." With these words he goes back into the coach, gives the driver the order to move on, closes the curtains, and continues on down the road.

Not long - but yet still a considerable time - after Bellarose comes down the road, another small figure emerges down the road from the east with the all-too-familiar sound for this time of year of small hobbit feet crunching rhytmically upon the snow. One likely would not recognize this hobbit from a distance, as she has the hood of her woolen winter cloak pulled up over her curls and around her face, also holding the front folds tightly together to shut out the piercing cold of the winter wind.

Upon nearing, however, the face of the young tweenager is visible as Midien watches her breath turn white in the cold as she returns to Hobbiton. Paying little attention to anything but the cold, her eyes remain fixed upon the ground just in front of her, watching as her feet crunch upon the snow as she walks.

With a nod to the coach's aged passenger, The young man looks about as several new faces begin to appear. He bows politely, and recognizes Midien all bundled up. He smiles at her warmly and says,

"Midien, is it not? It's a pleasure to see you again." He pauses briefly then continues, "It is Glendorin, from the wedding reception."

At the sound of the familiar voice, Midien looks up and immediately recognizes the man towering above her tiny form. Though with a bit of suprise, the Took lass returns the smile as she succeeds in a polite curtsey through her many cumbersome layers of winter clothing.

"Midien it is, and a pleasure to see you again as well." Though considerably nervous she was at the reception upon seeing the large figures, only a little of that could be seen in her cheerful expression. After all, she has met Glendorin before, and one is rarely as nervous of those who are not strangers. After a glance around, her dark eyes turn back to the man, a bit curiously, and also a bit in loss for words.

Bellarose drifts to the side of the road, peering with a rather distrustful expression on her face towards the Ranger fellow. Not that she knows he's a Ranger, of course. He just looks like typical, untrustworthy, dilapidated Big Folk. She doesn't say anything, of course, but slides to the opposite wayside, giving a rather icy nod towards the fellow. Her ice skates sway back and forth merrily on her shoulder.

She is nearly past Glendorin when she hears him speak . . . and automatically looks over her shoulder, blinking in surprise. She mumbles: "Midien? I've heard that name . . . " coming to a stop, eyebrows raised to a point where they cannot be made out under her bonnet. This Midien girl knows . . . humans?!

Glendorin looks to Bellarose and offers her a graceful bow and a warm smile as well. His steely grey eyes sparkling warmly as he says, "Greetings to you as well. I am Glendorin, apprentice to the horse-trader Master Angroch. Who might you be?"

Bellarose glances sharply towards Glendorin, sizing him up. Hmm. Dang, he's tall. Tone slightly brusque, the hobbitmaid responds, in the ultimate of prissy tones, with a very formal curtsey: "Bellarose Goldworthy, Mr. . . . Glendorin. Good evening." Here she pauses, glancing up at the sky with pursed lips. "Or is it morning?" A hint of drollness seeping into her voice, she adds, "Bah. Good day, anyhow. And to you as well, Miss . . . Midien, isn't it?" Her skates clank together - impatiently, one small, mittened hand goes up to silence them, while its owner continues to stare warily at the human.

Smiling even more, and in a soothing tone replies to Bellarose's curt tone with, "Well met Madam Goldworthy."

As if hearing something that you could not, Glendorin looks off quickly to the south, then returns his attention back to Midien and Bellarose.

Midien turns to see the hobbit whom the man addresses, and finds herself smiling widely - for want of another hobbit there with her, /and/ because she recognizes her after a moment. Stifling the nervous hint that threatens to creep into her voice, she smiles warmly and waves a warmly mittened hand to her in greeting, but as she opens her mouth to greet her, only ".He.." escapes and her words cease there for the moment as a chill wind catches her face and she tugs on the edge of her hood to deflect it away. She continues in respose to Bellarose's inquiry with a nod, "It is... Good day, Miss Goldworthy... " The young hobbit looks to and from Glendorin and Bellarose a few times before settling again on the former rather inquisitively and -inwardly- warily.

Eyes narrowing slightly as Glendorin looks away briefly, Bellarose ever-so-civilly responds, "Well met, yes . . . " Her brows furrow, the lass staring cautiously up at Glendorin. Then, carefully, she questions, "Ah, what might bring you to the Shire, Mr. Glendorin? You said you were the apprentice of a horse trader?" She shifts her footing, the snow crunching blithely beneath her rather furry feet.

Glendorin nods, "That I am, and you may simply call me Glendorin, or Glen if you prefer. Master Angroch and I happened by Hobbiton one night last week, and were most graciously welcomed. Though he has had to head south for business, his wife was so taken by the area, she asked that we remain."

Pulling her hands back within the warm confines of her cloak, Midien pulls it tightly closed about her again. She remains silent for the moment, listening to Bellarose and Glendorin talk, almost immersed in the surreality of it all. Big Folk in the Shire... and /civil/ ones at that!...Incredible.

"What!" Bella simply can't restrain herself, and gives a startled exclamation. Big Folk hanging around - in the Shire? Good heavens! Then, Miss Goldworthy realizes how rude that might seem, her cheeks turning red as she mutters, "Er, my apologies. It's just that . . . ah . . . Big Folk are rather rare in the Shire. And they don't usually stay around . . . " Eyebrows raised, the hobbitlass reaches up to lift up the rim of her bonnet, allowing her to squint more carefully at the human. "I wouldn't imagine the Shire is a good place for horse traders. We, erhm, use ponies, you know. Horses are a tad bit . . . large."

Glendorin nods in agreement. his smile again, curteous and warm as he says, "We shall only be here a day or so more. We're not here trading, we have recently concluded business in Bree with the folk there, and will be on our way again upon the return of Master Angroch."

Midien starts a bit at Bellarose's loud exclamation, but manages to regain her composure soon after its loss. Looking at the ladyhobbit suprisedly, an eyebrow is raied for a moment, she lowers it as soon as she realizes, not wishing to offend anyone this day - even if the other hobbit seems slightly offended by something, anyway, though she nods but slightly as Bellarose makes an interesting point. Why /would/ horse traders be in the Shire?... With a sigh, she supposes silently that perhaps it is not as much of a worry so long as they cause no trouble, and a bit of a clarified look comes to her countenance as Glendorin explains. More or less in search of an attempt to change the subject that might not... elicit such a reaction... from the other ladyhobbit present, a related random question comes to mind and she says,"He will be returning here to Hobbiton?"

Shaking her head - not in dissent of anything, but rather to clear her brain - Bellarose ventures, "Ah. I see. Well, it's . . . ah . . . nice to meet you, Glendorin." Dipping into another curtsey, she hazards, "I'm sure you're quite welcome here." Not around her, preferably, but hey - he's still polite. She's just nervous around anyone more then twice her size.

Looking thoughtfully at the sweet young Hobbit Midien and replies, "Sadly no, Glinraen and I will be meeting Master Angroch elsewhere, though he wishes he could return again, having been quite taken with your lovely community as well." Bowing deeply to Bellarose he continues, "The pleasure was all mine Madam."

Looking to both Hobbits he sighs softly and says, "Well met, but alas I must be off now to find the Lady Glinraen. I hope to see you both again before we depart." As he departs, he adds, "And should you see master Torvo, let him know Glendorin was looking for him, and will try to visit later."

With that he waves to you both and departs down the lane.

Bellarose stares bemusedly after the human, eyebrows raised. More to herself then Midien, she mutters, "What in heaven's name are Big Folk doing in the Shire?!" Shaking her head again, she cautiously replies, "Yes, he *was* polite, wasn't he? The only other Big Folk I've ever encountered were some ugly ruffians stealing apples from our orchard, you know - I didn't realize they came in well mannered varieties." Glancing with a rather wry expression down the lane, she hazards, "And I take it you had met him before, Miss Took? He knew your name . . ."

Catching Bellarose's unusual expression towards her, Midien smiles softly and says as smoothly as she can say such things,"Well, yes... but only slightly. I am suprised he remembered me at that!.. He and the fellow he called Angroch... I believe that was the other fellow.. yes.. The name did sound like that at least... Happened upon Mrs Lilias's door during Rotho and Terabethia's reception." She shakes her head slightly as she tugs her cloak tighter about her small frame. "Indeed we were all incredibly suprised... but as they wished to congratulate Rotho and Tera, Mrs. Lilias asked me to introduce them.." She shruggs her shoulders slightly as she finishes,"... and that I did.."

(The gossip continues like this for a while... I missed most of it.)