Market of Bree RP

[Tharmáras]

Bree stood at an old meeting of ways, drawing strange visitors from near and far. Although the North Road and the Greenway are seldom used, a myriad of itinerant merchants and travelling entertainers come to its bustling Market via the East-West Road. There are established store buildings which have sold their products for many years but foreign vendors sell their wares from stalls & horse-drawn caravans on the cobbled streets and musicians perform for the villagers on the lawn of Bree-town. Enjoy your stay and make your coin but caution is encouraged. There's been odd strangers up from the south and not all of them have been kind; there are whispers also of an underground crime syndicate doing shady dealings here. The peace of the community is threatened but the Market endures and is open from dawn to dusk. The Hill Watchers are patrolling the Market, guarding businesses and villagers from thieves and ruffians causing mischief alone or by the command of organized crime...

The time is autumn and the weather is pleasantly cool. The trees of the woodland nestling Bree-hill are arrayed in lovely fall splendor, their bright leaves blown astir by a gentle fall zephyr. William Wonderboom, an eccentric baker and candyman of legendary repute, has finally appeared in Breetown after a long hiatus. He has arranged hot chocolate stations around the market for these specialty drinks to be sold for a silver coin. Old orchardist Wes Marble has his booths set up for hot spiced apple and pumpkin ciders, cheaply gotten for five copper coins.

More stalls or stores are needed! You can fill the form below in your IC posts and I'll add it to this OP so we can have a record
of businesses, including owners and employees (Plaza members or NPCs); if you'd like to work for a particular owner, you can ask her/him in the Imladris OOC, https://lotrfanaticsplaza.com/forum/vie ... ?f=10&t=34. There will be a security roster, also. Anyone playing a Hill Watcher will receive points to be counted for promotion in the Bree-land Constabulary which is being made anew by me on Narv Plaza; the HQ thread will be created sometime this month.

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Vendors

Store Owner: William Wonderboom (Aig's NPC)
Race: Mortal
Occupation: Baker / Candymaker
Business: "The Sweet Spot"
Selling: Offering the greatest mouthwatering confections in town! Candy apples, soft and hard candy, toffee and tarts, nougats and pastries, pies and seed-cakes, scroggin for bushwalkin' and more scrumdiddlyumptious treats! Chocolate products are produced from the cocoa beans of the cacao trees endemic to the tropical jungle south of Umbar; these are supplied by Wonderboom's mysterious benefactor named Kfir and are now available for purchase. C'mon in! Everything is satisfying and delicious...
Floor Staff: Employees welcome!

Store Owner: Kathryn Sunflower and Erin Firethorn (Aig's NPCs)
Race: Mortal
Occupation: Bookwomen
Business: "Coralbell & Clementine"
Selling: A centuries-old three-story stone building. Books (fiction and non-fiction, journals, cookbooks, etc.) are sold here including The Bree-land Gazette, calendars and updated maps, stationery and writing utensils. There is a garden and feast hall where readers & Market visitors can relax or socialize depending on the weather.
Floor Staff: Annabelle Snapdragon, bookseller (Aig's NPC). More employees welcome!

Store Owner: Oliver Rowan (NPC'd by Aig)
Race: Human
Store: "Treasures of Arda"
Selling: An antique shop and musuem displaying and selling well-preserved relics of the past not just of Cardolan's ancient monarchy but also valuables from afar. Although there are expensive items here, there are plenty of trinkets and oddities and baubles sold at affordable prices. Expect a history lesson for some merchandise; Oliver is a sage and the cousin of Kathryn Sunflower who is Bree-town's Wisewoman.
Floor Staff: Employees Welcome! Ones who can work in the store but also brave souls who want to be Oliver's treasure-seekers, exploring the ruins of Eriador to supply him with antiques; these characters will also be played in my upcoming Cardolan Adventures RP/Game thread.

Owner: Dave Bugloss (Aig's NPC)
Race: Mortal
Store: "The Blue Box"
Selling: This is an apothecary's shop selling medicinal supplies, including elixers and herbs and salves. The shop is painted blue and is rather small but somehow it looks bigger on the inside. The Doctor, David Bugloss X, is here to suit your medical needs.
Floor Staff: Rose Field (Aig's NPC). More employees welcome!

Vendor: Sanikolas, "Nick / Santa" (Aig's NPC)
Race: Dwarf
Stall: "The Marvellous and Magical Toy Emporium"
Selling: This portly cheerful Dwarf of Erebor sells enchanted toys, dolls, mechanical puzzles, board games, puppets, hoops, songboxes, spinning tops, and more! Consider yourselves lucky; he only comes to Bree for the autumn so he can return to Dale in time for Yuletide. It is said that Dwarves do not reveal their true names and the ones they use are of Northen (Mannish) origin. He is known to the Bree-landers as Sanikolas but they casually refer to him as Santa or Nick for short.
Floor Staff: Employees welcome!

Store Owner: Terrence Goosefoot (Aig's NPC)
Race: Hobbit
Store: "Top Hats"
Selling: Hats of various styles for men, women, children, Wizards, and halflings! Terry is a bit mad, perhaps due to the use of mercury in his hatmaking, so please bear with the Hobbit's loss of memory, stumbling, halluincations, and loony behavior....
Floor Staff: Employees welcome!

Store Owner: Jacinda Manyflower (Aig's NPC)
Race: Hobbit
Store: "Good Fellow"
Selling: Pipes and Pipeweed! The tobacco Jackie sells is not as good as the Shire's Old Toby but is, you guessed it, a good fellow!
Floor Staff: Employees welcome!

Vendor: Aewrusca Mordagnir (Aig's NPC)
Race: Elf
Stall: "Fragrances of Imladris"
Selling: Timeless and alluring, dreamy perfumes crafted in the paradise of Rivendell. Smell like an Elf!

Vendor: Aigronding Mordagnir
Race: Elf
Stall: "Elven Cider"
Selling: Fermented pears and blackberries from an elven orchard of Rivendell! The beverages are rich and tart with a touch of sweetness.

Store Owner - Henley Buckthorn (Cassie's NPC)
Race - Man of Bree
Store - Buckthorn Barbers
Selling - Haircuts, Shaving, basics mainly. Do not get your hopes up. You'll be lucky if Henley remembers to open up.

Store Owner - Amos Dogwood (Cassie's NPC)
Race - Man of Bree
Store - Soul Mates
Selling - New and second hand shoes and boots. Cobblers (repair) service.

Vendor: Walto Tunnelly & family (Rillewen's NPCs)
Race: Hobbit
Stall: Tunnelly's General Goods
Selling: general groceries; dry goods and produce(when in season) along with miscellaneous merchandise typically found in general stores

Vendor: Lauryl Woods (Rillewen's NPCs)
Race: human
Stall: Woods' Warm Woolies
Selling: Yarn, Woven wool cloth, and thread, as well as knitted/crocheted garments/blankets, hand-carved/whittled knitting needles and crochet hooks

Monetary System:

10 copper coins = 1 silver coin

10 silver coins = 1 electum coin

10 electum coins = 1 gold coin

Bartering is also acceptable.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hill Watchers

Sheriff Miles Brackenbrook (Aig's NPC)
Commander Vincent Snapdragon (Aig's NPC)

More Hill Watchers welcome! If interested, I can give you one of the following ranks: Constable, Sergeant, Inspector, Commander. Your posts will count towards promotion.

Rules:

1.) Tharmáras writes Barliman, Aragorn, and Gandalf. Annúnfalas RPs Bill Ferny.

2.) Please review the Roleplaying Code of Conduct before posting https://lotrfanaticsplaza.com/forum/rol ... of-conduct . No spamming or godmoding please. To preserve the sanctity of the Tolkienesque atmosphere, no sexual allusions/content/jokes are allowed or fandom/franchise crossovers. If I see or am notified you have crossed lines or incur OOC complaints, you will be asked to edit your post. Thanks for understanding.

[Tharmáras]

Elven Stalls

Aigronding, a tall and broad-shouldered Elf-lord of Imladris, was an inposing figure on the streets of Bree, being one of the few merchants of the Firstborn Market to appear this morning. He had been gone an hour and was just now returning. While Fuin and his children organized the Tingdain and Linyamaril stalls, Aigronding had visited the Inn of the Prancing Pony. While there he met with his Dúnedain and Watcher contacts for news and to hear the latest gossip from the locals. Most of what he heard distressed him but he mastered his concern so he wouldn't alarm Aewrusca. He resolved to speak with Fuin and Tavari about the disappearances in the Chetwood and the Greenway ruffians at home, including the evil which Eastern Dwarves were escaping from.

He came back to the Market now, his silver-lined blue cape catching the fall breeze, as the sun rose higher in the clouded sky banishing the dark shadows of predawn. Calselda, the golden-haired older daughter with deceptive doll-like features, wore a white fur hooded cloak over a white gold-embroidered dress instead of armor. She was listening to Aewrusca, who was speaking animatedly about the drinks she held in burr-birch tankards. The hood of her mink cloak she wore over her purple cotehardie was pulled over her red locks.

"Since Nariel or Airien aren't here, I need someone to help me make an important life decision," said Aewrusca with a grave countenance. "Regular or mint?"

"Trying a new beverage, I see, ninya moina," guessed Aigronding. He needed to raise his voice a little above the joyful music of a hurdy-gurdy.

"Hot chocolate, Ada!" Aewrusca answered, blue eyes aglow with excitement. "William Wonderboom brewed it with seeds from a cacao tree a Southerner named Kfir gave him. Some of the villagers prefer William's chocolate hot but Kfir says it's meant to be drank cold and sweetened with all kinds of spice or honey."

Aigronding quelled a sudden surge of dread. "Just Kfir?" he wondered, hoping she knew his surname but Aewrusca gave an indifferent shrug, saying she didn't know. Aewrusca handed her sister one of the cups since Calselda was always eager to learn the ways of humans.

"I will sell the cider but who will remain here with me to handle the perfume sales first?" said Aigronding and laced his hands behind his back, looking from one Elf-girl to the next. They both glared at each other over their tankard rims as they drank deeply. Bree was one of their favorite haunts in Eriador and they didn't come this way often. "Aewrusca, I'm glad you volunteered!" Aigronding said happily and laughed when she groaned. He told Calselda to enjoy her shopping but to return in a couple hours so Aewrusca could have her fun.

"Are you ready?" he asked, observing the arrangement of beautiful containers Aewrusca arrayed across the stall's wooden counter. Airien - the cousin of Aigronding's wife - had filled vessels of wood and clay, glass bottles of dramatic colors, painted vases shaped in the semblance of animals, and hollowed precious stones to hold the perfumes she and her maidens produced in Rivendell.

Aewrusca hurried around the stall. She flourished her beringed hand toward a round glass bottle of vivid orange. "Endienlissë: A sweet autumn treat of heirloom pumpkin, fall cinnamon, ginger, and golden honey!" She winked one of her blue eyes.

"You have this, as they say in Bree," Aigronding assured her, unable to keep a wide smile from his lips. Airien and Nariel had molded Aewrusca well into a charming reflection of their cute selves.

"Sellin' ciders, Mordognir?" asked Wes Marble, hobbling toward the Elven stalls with the aid of a walking stick. The old chipper man wearing a tweed coat and a rabbit fur hat paused, leaning on the swallow carved handle of his cane. He looked from Aig's alcohol stall to one of his own cider stations and snorted laughter, shaking his head.

"It's Mordagnir, Wesley," Aigronding reminded him with a grimace. They were both orchardists; the elderly villager loved to tease Aigronding, his colleague, good-naturedly whenever he came to town.

"Can ya believe this joker, lady?" Wesley spoke to Fuin. "He's endangering my buisness!"

Aigronding gave him a lopsided grin. He rolled his shining blue eyes, sighing.

"Mordingdong over here," Wes railed on, "he's gonna get folks drunk while I'm tryin' to keep 'em warm and sober! It's cussin' ridonkulous, Fuin." Wes pronounced her name properly just to rankle Aigronding. "Ya oughtta take one of them daggers," he recommended, pointing his gloved finger at the weapon, "and stab Maldagnir in the throat!" He jabbed the air between him and Aigronding with his cane, chuckling.

"Don't put the idea in her head, Mr. Wes," advised Aewrusca, giggling. "Fuin might actually do it..."

"Holly loves Aig like a father but she's a goodie goodie and won't give him his comeuppance," Wes, speaking of Nariel Eregwen, said with a dejected facade but then he smirked, tapping Fuin's stall. "She looks tough though..." Sniggering, he turned to the nearest hot cider stall. He shouted at Susan Peppermint, a blonde teenage friend of his granddaughter, working the stand and told her to give Fuin a cup free of charge.

[Raisins]

Fuin had arrived at almost the same time as Aigronding as he had begun to set up his cider stall, she set up near him in one of the temporary stalls that were available, his children were about and setting up and it looked like Aewrusca was busy getting the perfume shop ready to go. Fuin for her part was wearing a nicer set of clothing than normal, she was still not in a dress, all of Mordagnirs family would know that would be far too much to ask of the old elleth. Instead she wore a clean set of light grey leggings with a new leaf green tunic over it with it's hems embelished with gold and silver stitched leaves, her boots were a rich brown and she did not wear a cloak for the time being, though there was one in the wagon that she had brought, not that she would need it for it was still warm enough and her elven blood made the coolness simply refreshing.


She smiled as Aewrusca spun and rattled of the scents. "She is going to be a good sales woman I will be shocked if she doesn't sell out swiftly." She said with a laugh as Wesley Marble came tottering up to the market, and Fuin dipped her head so that Aigronding couldn't see the grin that was splitting her face. "Honestly Wesley, you could easily just sell him your apples at twice the rate, then you'll be making a real decent living. Besides he's old enough he's good for it." Fuin said with a laugh. "Ohh I like that Mordingdong, I shall have to use it though I can see him trying to demote me in the Host. I've never been one to overly listen to him in that regard though have I?" She said with a laugh looking at her friend who while she couldn't see his face atm, was likely glowering at her for saying Mordingdong.

"And I'm afraid I shall not be stabbing him in the throat if I have managed to keep my dagger from his neck for over 6000 years I will probably manage it for another 6000 years." As she set the daggers down in display on the table "May I suggest taking out the back of his knees with your cane. Non-lethal can claim it's self defence." She moved over to Wesley and pointed out where to "Then you can call him Aintgotafooting." She said with a snicker.

She took the drink from Aigronding and gave him a little toast, before sipping the drink before going back to setting up her stall, the table was arrayed in swords and daggers, and sheaths for weapons, as well as bracers and various other goods that anyone would be happy to purchase in Bree. She had metal and wood plates as well as utensils with vines and leaves on them that were good for every day use as well as for fancier affairs.

"So Mordingdong how long do you expect to be open today? You've got two stalls to look after from the looks of it, should I keep an eye out for thieves for Aewrusca and put them on their backsides should the decide to make your daughters life difficult?" She looked at the young elleth. "You sir, will be on your own you can not ply protection from me with a simple drink, I know you can defend yourself and your wares." She said giving him a wink.

[corlisswyn]

Czarine Taiah
Human, new resident to Bree

Arnora
Human

"Come, my child, you will accompany me today to the markets. I am in need of a guide and some careful introductions around town." Czarine put away an empty mug into the sink as she watched Arnora finish up her breakfast with a sense of urgency. "Yes, Mother Czarine, of course!" Arnora started to walk away when a small clearing of the throat from Myrtle reminded her to clean up after herself. She rolled her eyes just a little bit, but turned back around and gathered up her plate and utensils, adding them to the sink next to Czarine's mug. Czarine met her at the front door, in a well-fitted, light weight coat in a deep cherry red. Arnora grabbed a long sweater tunic and matched it with a grey knitted scarf, and the two walked out of Rosemont house and down towards the market.

The first place on Czarine's list was the Blue Box. Maintaining medical care for her family was of utmost importance, and finding out who was available and what they could do was a priority for the day. Arnora led the way, pulling ahead to open the apothecary's door and allow Czarine to walk in first. She was nearly immediately greeted by a young woman. Czarine took a moment to look around before answering, surprised at the size of the shop given the small dimensions of the store front.

"I'm looking for something to help me sleep more peacefully, if you have something that can help. I'm also interested in an elixir that dulls the pain in the event of an injury. Might you have something that can help?"

Czarine was curious to see the girl's response, see if she knew her inventory. "I'm also in need of a physician. I understand the owner of this storefront is one? Is he any good at healing?"

@Aigronding Mordagnir for Rose Field

[Sur Vanar Utírieste]

@Tharmáras for Coralbell & Clementine

|

“Thank you, Frederick,” she said, as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Coralbell & Clementine, the bookshop. “Pick me up when the sun has begun to set over the Hill, today I am free of rehearsals in the Sparrow and I intend to shop the entire day away.”

“Yes, m’lady,” responded Frederick, helping her down to the pavement. He was an old man, but without grown sons or daughters to care for him in the twilight years of his life, it fell on the driver-for-hire to continue to provide for his wife and himself. Fortunately, he had been able to find a much easier venue in recent years, working for Ms. Athena, leading actress of the local stage.

Under her personal employment, he would only work twice a day for a matter of minutes, picking her up and dropping her off to work or the Market. She was also very generous in her pay, and he earned far more under her in a year’s time than he ever had delivering crates and barrels for the merchants of Bree.

“Until later,” she said, waving farewell to him as the carriage moved onward.

It was only after Frederick had left, that Athena realized an all-too-familiar face stood in front of the entrance of the three-tiered establishment. “What in Bree-hill are you doing here?” she asked him, quite displeased at the very sight of him.

“My dearest Athena,” replied Bill Ferny, the infamous scoundrel, “did you get the flowers I sent you after your last performance?”

“Yes, I did,” said Athena, frowning, “and when I discovered who they were from, I threw them out.”

“What a waste,” he laughed, smiling with yellow teeth, “shall I come by your condominium tonight?”

Ew. Athena lifted her cat Snowbell closer to her chest. “Bill Ferny,” she began, now very cross with him, “that suggestion, is as unwelcome as it is grotesque; and when was the last time you bathed?”

She pushed passed him, pinching her nose, and entered the store. He, of course, continued to watch her with dirty hands cupped around his eyes from the shop window.

Athena stepped slowly into Coralbell & Clementine, throwing back her lilac hood. She watched Annabelle, an employee, shelving books nearby atop a small ladder. “Greetings,” she sang, approaching with her cat in her arms. “I just wanted to thank you for the lovely recommendation last week, that crime novel had me in quite a bit of suspense.”

She walked over to a cart with a number of unassorted books. “Is there anything else that you think I should read? A romance perhaps? Some philosophy?” Athena asked, picking up the various titles to give them a look. “Anything,” she added, “to get my mind off of the disgusting suggestions of that slime, Bill Ferny.”

Athena wrinkled her nose at the mention of his name.

[Tharmáras]

OOC: Segments for Annunfalas, Cor, and Moriel coming soon!

Fuin avoided his glance at first but he chuckled. He knew she was grinning. "Just who's side are you on?" Aigronding demanded through a burst of laughter, having watch with mouth agape as Fuin encouraged Vincent's uncle, Wes Marble, to jack up his own apple prices. "We've been friends for thousands of years. You've known this guf a minute and suddenly it's abandon ship."

"The Fuindagnir ship has sailed, alas," lamented Aewrusca and faked hysterically loud sobbing.

Aigronding grimaced, detesting the grating silliness of Mordingdong and gave her a gimlet stare she was probably hoping for. "Perhaps I would find better use for you in the kitchen of Merenthrond, Aphador," mused Aigronding, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, with thick emphasis on the lowest rank of the Halcyon Guard, the host of Imladris.

"Not even a day, Ada," assumed Aewrusca. "She'd poison your breakfast. Tavari would be Tar-Taidril then Fuin proclaim herself Arahiril."

"You're officially banned from the feast hall," Aigronding declared, folding his muscled arms.

"Assault me and I'll call the police," the Elf-lord warned the cackling elderly man who was trying to rap the backs of Mordagnir's legs with his cane, egged on by the devious Dark Elf. Grinning smugly, he waved hello at Ann and Elizabeth Snapdragon who were riding by in their wagon.

"Do ya mind if I beat up yer friend, sheila?" yelled the rascally senior. His late sister's son, Vincent, and his wife were Hill Watchers of the Bree-land. They patrolled Bree-land and served as Gatekeepers occasionally. He snickered when Ann shifted fingers from her big blue eyes toward her playful in-law, smirking, as she drove past.

"To another thousand years of annoying each other," Aigronding toasted dryly, his brilliant eyes glowing brighter, tapping a glass bottle of cider against her own. He drank deeply of the pleasurably tart beverage, ruminating on his stall's open hours. "Perhaps until Mid-day. I don't want to sell after sundown. We can expect thievery is rampant in the night."

"How come everyone thinks I'm a distressing damsel who needs saving all the time?" Aewrusca whined and pouted when Fuin said she would be her lookout. "I've been training, you know," Aewrusca reminded her, sauntering over. She removed a dagger from a leather sheath embossed in golden vine relief which matched the engraving of the blade she pulled from the decorative case. "I assure you I'm a cautious girl and that I'm full of surprises," Aewrusca promised Fuin, thrusting the dagger viciously to impale an imaginary Goblin.

"Ah, here is Tharmaras with the children," said Aigronding

*

"You have powdered sugar on your dress Vilvirenneth ("Little Butterfly," Sindarin)." Tharmaras beckoned Caramírië; he needed to clean the remains of her first cookie from her clothes. The energetic Forlond Princess had escaped his hand despite his stern command, bolting away like an arrow shot from a longbow. Cara had been obedient during the walk from the Sweet Spot but that instantly changed when she saw Fuin and her kinsman, Aigronding, near the Tingdain stall. The rambunctious Elf-girl tore her small hand loose from her father's larger one and shot off like one of Gandalf's brilliant rockets. It was only her father's mention of her sullied dress which halted Cara's mad dash to Fuin. She was a lovely child with alabaster skin and vibrant blue eyes and rich auburn hair. Cara emulated her mother, Nariel. She was a flawess dancer, a merry singer, she lived for parties, was obsessed with fine clothes, loved jewelry, was fond of Airien's cosmetics, and was besotted with the idea that she was the cutest Elf-girl in Middle-earth.

"Is my dress ruined, Dad'dy?" Cara whined in Westron (which she learned over time to master with great interest), throwing her willowy arms around her father's leg. Sudden tears glistened in her eyes which pulled Tharmaras' heartstrings. She was the apple of his eye. He adored her; when she wept even for the most frivolous of reasons, something broke inside inside him.

"You're fine, doll," Tharmaras assured her, carefully dusting her scalloped burgundy lace dress with a handkerchief from his cloak pocket. It had a fringe hem and a belt of gold, featuring a buckle of two opposing Phoenixes touching beak to beak, was girt about her slender waist. When he was finished, she kissed her father then skipped away before he could snatch her up. "Fuin has jewelry / And all for me / tra-la-la-lally!" Cara sang, hopping like a little piping crimson bird. She giggled when Tharmaras ran after her, putting on an fiercer burst of speed through the busy city streets. Ignoring the strident cries of her father, Anarondo her twin, Girithniel her nanny, and Mauya the bodyguard Cara zipped down the cobble road. She was somewhere new and she wanted to play.

The capering Princess of Forlond hummed a dainty pastoral tune of Maglor in her reckless charge to Fuin. Nimble leaps, graceful twirls, and lucky dodges carried the fleet slippered feet of the Elf-girl beyond stalls and passersby of all descriptions, wagons of Man and carts of Hobbits, horses of Elves and ponies of Dwarves. Cara snatched a berried Fall crown festooned with leaves of yellow, orange, and red from the stall of Bella's Blooms in mid-stride before reaching Fuin. She smiled at the master smith with all her immaculate teeth, placing the rustic circlet over her garnet head.

Cara hugged Fuin with ebullient immediacy just as Tharmaras arrived, out of breath with his handkerchief. The seven-year-old got Fuin's grey leggings sticky because Tharmaras wasn't able to cleanse her hands covered lightly with the sticky green frosting of her second cookie. "I'm sorry, I got excited," Cara admitted in a teeny guilty voice, looking up at Fuin with her big blue eyes as Tharmaras, blushing, wiped his daughter's palms and fingers. "Will you still give me pretty things?" She asked a beat later in a more cheerful voice.

"She will slice your hands off with one of these swords!" Prince Anarondo declared, arriving with Girithniel and Mauya. The Elf-boy, wearing breeches and shirt of black silk with a purple brocade jerkin, gave his twin sister an impish smirk. She pouted for a moment before begging the smith not to cut her hands off because she needed them to paint and gather seashells. "Be nice," Tharmaras warned his son but tousled his unruly flaxen hair. "We would like to buy some jewelry -" Tharmaras told Fuin but he was interrputed by Cara who asked for a hundred necklaces.

"What makes you think you can have a hundred necklaces?" drawled Rondo, rolling his cornflower blue eyes.

His sister threw her head back, striking an imperious pose. "I am Caramírië," she answered loftily, standing akimbo.

"You're a spoiled brat," Rondo replied but flinched a moment later when Cara, who didn't know that particular word of Bree vocabulary, shot back, "YOU'RE A SPOILED BARF!" with acerbic vehemence, awfully mispronouncing the insult.

"Enough, children!" ordered Tharmaras with a stony demeanor, glancing at Mauya in disapproval when she burst out laughing. Tharmaras forced a sigh, noticing Cara's unhappy countenance. He knelt, caressing her gleaming curls. "Fuin doesn't have a hundred necklaces and even if she did, you couldn't have them all because it would be selfish, honey, and too expensive."

"How many then, Dad-dy?" Cara wondered in a little saccharine voice, holding herself, as she started another habitual haggling episode with her father.

"You can have four."

"Eight sounds splendid, Dad-dy!" she happily cried and bussed his cheek with a quick joyful kiss.

Tharmaras gazed at Cara with visible confusion, blinking. "Baby, Dad-dy didn't say eight," he spoke over Mauya's throaty laughter and above Rondo's deep groaning (and the rather audible smack of his palm meeting his own forehead). "He said four."

"Eight is a little bit more," Cara reasoned, "but not too much. It's like this." She held her forefinger and thumb slightly apart, uttering, "See?" for emphasis.

"Six," said Tharmaras clearly and copied the movement of his child's fingers, restraining a blast of laughter of his own. "It's a little bit more but not too much. It's like this, see?" he echoed. She squeed, bouncing up and down in place, clapping her hands together. "Alright, Fuin," said Tharmaras, coming to his feet. "Show me your necklaces, if you please? Oh...and if you want some new leggings...I got you as they say in Bree." He gestured at the Marigold General Store.

"Get her a dress instead," Aigronding dared him. "Fuin would look enchanting in a black cotehardie." He wasn't even joking. "What a captivating vision, no? Can you see it, lissiore ("Sweetheart," Quenya)?" Aigronding joined both thumbs together with forefingers up, creating an invisible portrait with his hands surrounding the image of Fuin.

"Ooo, yes, with silver star embroidery," Aewrusca chimed in with a devilish grin. "Down her sleeves," she added, her periwinkle eyes stinging as she mastered the laughter she wanted to belt out. "And across the low neckline," she continued giddily, hiccuping once as the urge to laugh became too burdensome, tracing the length of her own collar grandly... Let's talk earrings."

"Chandelier-"

Rondo covered his pointed ears and wished he was hiking with Erfaron in the Midgewater Marshes. He'd rather get bit by a bunch of noisy insects in a noxious swamp with his foul-mouthed mother's friend.

[Raisins]

Fuin chuckled and muttered under her breath "I don't have to put up with him for another 6000 years." Aewrusca sold everything else that needed to be sold.

She snorted when he called her an aphador putting a hand on her hip her head tilting to the side slightly as she looked at him much like a raptor looks at a rabbit its about to devour as he continued to suggest that he'd put her in the kitchens. While she was decent in the kitchen and he knew that well enough the grin that spread on her face as Aewrusca suggested she'd poison him and her and Tavari would take over the. She couldn't help but quip back knowing full well she had saved his life more than once.

"Do you know how much night shade I can put in your wine?" She asked Aigronding directly swirling the cider drink in her hand that smirk still on her face her eyes slightly lidded as she looked as if she was completely at ease with the idea. Awerusca looked confused entirely.

"But deadly nightshade is very sweet, he'd taste it." The young elleth was confused at why Fuin who was a Master Healer and instructor and her father had told her she was well skilled in poisons and should know that. Fuin tipped her head forward slightly and gave Aewrusca a pat on the shoulder.

"You'll get it eventually" Fuin said with a chuckle and raised an eyebrow at the fact that they would done by mid day. "That's not too long, are you heading back to the Valley tonight or are you worried about highway men?" She asked continuing to sip on the cider. It was something she wasn't terribly worried about but she was very very use to fighting when she was on her own and so many of the highway men had learned that she had no trouble cutting them down like grass before a scythe so the tended to leave her be when she travelled unless they were in enough numbers to be dangerous though they were almost always easy to know when they would give themselves away if they were in enough numbers to cause her harm.

Fuin finished sipping at the cider as Aewrusca said she had been training and the older elleth looked at Aigronding wondering if he'd correct her, he didn't and she reached out and corrected how she was holding the dagger, twisting it slightly, until the wide part of the blade was horizontal to the ground and her wrist was straightened properly.

"Hit them the way you stabbed that air and you'll glance of their ribs at beast, break your wrist at worst. Remember horizontal blade for people, vertical for animals. And people tend to fight back more than animals that you're putting out of their misery." She gave the cup back to Aigronding and smiled

"That was a fantastic cider." She was about to compliment his brewing more when he mentioned that Tharmaras and his children were on their way, and her eyes went wide slightly and she glanced at her cart, she had another pair of leggings and another tunic though not quite as nice as this one. For there was only one thing that warning meant to her: Brace for Cara and her eternally sticky hands.

She stood still, glancing towards the sing song voice of Cara that was drawing ever nearer, like a singing dragon. Fuin did her best to not show her distaste to the child after all it was not her fault, she didn't do anything on purpose to grate upon the older elleth and she knew that it would break Cara's heart if Fuin recoiled from her. She took a deep breath and turned towards Cara, knowing full well if she did not the tiny tot would take her knees out from behind. She was better than some of the Black Swans at taking her down because she hadn't expected the attack to her knees the first time she was not normally someone let their children go to. She gave Cara a smile as she set the flower crown upon her head as she stopped for a moment and she saw Tharmaras sprinting to try to get to her first but alas no, the small nimble child had left him and her minders too far behind and she was upon Fuins legs a moment later and Fuin did her best to keep a smile upon her face as Cara squeezed her legs and she could feel the sticky icing on the back of her legs, and only then did Caras father arrived and wiped her hands after extricating her from Fuins left leg.

"I am afraid you're a touch late to wipe her hands." Fuin said with a chuckle doing her best to not run and change immediately. She blinked at Cara's brazen ask and crouched down and got on her level her eyes narrowing slight. "Give you my dear?" She asked "You mean let your Adda buy them for you?" That got a nod even as Anarondo made his comment and Fuin turned her to look at him her face giving away nothing set in a slight smile. He clearly knee Fuins reputation well thus far with that comment only to hear Cara beg her not to cut her hands off.

"Ohhh no sweet, I'll not cut off your hands, you can't help me pick herbs if I do that now can I? " She said with a little chuckle and she stood up as Tharmaras mentioned buying jewelry only to be interrupted by Cara demanding a hundred necklaces and she couldn't help but laugh at the exchange between the two children.

"Right necklaces." She pulled out a trinket box that she had brought and opened it up and inside was about twenty fine chains with small pendants on them, some in the shapes of stars, others leaves and flowers and animals, these were not high end jewelery but meant for children some had gem dust on them, others were simple polished silver designs, others were enameled with bright colours but all of them were at most a silver, many at a few coppers a piece that were meant for those that did not have a lot of money to spend or for those that had precocious children like Cara. "There should be a good few in here that she does not already have. And no worries about the leggings I have one pair of nice clean ones left." She said and glared at Aigronding and picked up the first 'dagger' she saw on her table and pointed at him as he suggested putting her in a dress.

"I'll cut you." She said and looked at the dagger in her hand, it was a blunted toy one/ "With this. It'll hurt more." She said with a smile "I don't need you're help picking herbs. Maybe your left pinky." She said as he held his hands up framing her. With that she set it down near where Rondo was standing his fingers in his ears. "And You you traitor I'll not be wearing earrings or a dress any time soon!" She muttered to Aewrusca as clearly the two Mordagnirs clearly were ganging up on her now.

[Tharmáras]

OOC@ Posts for Cor and Moriel coming late tonight. Yours will come soon, Fuin, I need to hit some places for you and some others first.
Yes, alterationsto Ann's character profile are forthcoming.

Annabelle Snapdragon again forced a smile at gawking co-workers and gossiping customers. She walked downstairs from the office of Karen Coralbell Ravenwood and Clarice Clementine. She didn't answer any questions of what occurred behind those carved walnut doors. She preferred the travel of rumors or maybe a teeny damaging article in Philomena's tabloid paper, guessing what was going on at the bookstore, to shake those old women up a bit.

She made a beeline toward the fiction department which she managed. Ann found a deserted corner and leaned against one soaring bookcase. She took deep calming breaths until her tremors of anger ceased. She outstretched her hand to take the awaiting ceramic tankard of hot buttered rum her best friend, Miranda Lynn Clementine, sneaked to her. "I'm working, babe," Ann reminded the woman in the white silk chemise and yellow damask bodice.

"Oh, hush," said freewheeling Miranda, swatting her by-the-book chum. "Down it, girly," pressured Miranda. "I don't know what that battleaxe did, Anna, but you need a bracer."

"You are still a terrible influence, always trying to corrupt me," murmured Ann, risking a wary look over her shoulder before she took a sip. This variation of the celebrated beverage was only a smidge alcoholic, hardly enough Redhill Rum to get her tipsy. The pleasurable warm blend of brown sugar and butter, honey and cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves, eased her troubled mind as did the soothing feel of Miranda's scarlet nails gently scratching her back. The slim blonde with the side-swept bangs and emerald eyes had grown up with Ann since both their parents - Kathryn Ravenwood and Erin Clementine - had been close as sisters from childhood's hour. Miranda's maiden name was Clementine and she used it for publishing purposes but her married name was Peppermint.

"What happened, Anna?" Miranda was blunt and to the point. She was never one to beat around the bush as they said in Bree. If she wanted to know something, she was direct and doggedly intrusive.

"Karen isn't giving Elizabeth or Eru knows what other kid they suckered into overtime pay," Ann responded bitterly. Her swordhand started to flex, wishing she was holding the pommel of Melimakris. She felt the Raven taken wing again and had to take her calming breaths, sealing dark thoughts behind mental bars.

"Dang, you let her live?" Miranda objected in a fierce whisper of dismay jokingly. "Suprised you aren't covered in blood, Mama Bear!"

"I threatened her." Ann showed Miranda her copper Hill Watch star. It was pinned to the lining of her grey coat near a blued steel dagger. "Your grandmother showed me the paperwork. Karen and Elizabeth signed an agreement that she would work paid hours until winter. I suppose Karen did it as a formality but expected Elizabeth wouldn't speak up for herself as she kept getting disrespected. You know how timid she is, the suffering in silence type. They haven't given her the double earnings which they agreed to. She's missing them from two pay periods...a month. If Elizabeth doesn't have her money by week's end, I will see Karen...and Whitney... in court for violating the Child Labor Laws I made which Sheriff Brackenbrook and the Bree Elders approved."

"No hard feelings, hon," Miranda assured Ann. "My grandma is your grandma's accomplice. She's got to stand up to her at some point. Erin is Salgant to Karen's Maeglin. A skinny pawn though. I'll admit she's a twig. Whenever the wind blows, I think she'll get blown off her feet." A group of readers began to assemble near Miranda's Belfalas books display in one of the conference parlors. "Must greet my fans. I'll see you on your break, Anna. Chin up, beautiful!" Miranda blew her a kiss and sashayed toward her legion of applauding bookworms.

Ann downed her buttered rum and set the empty cup aside on a long mahoghany table. She investigated the twelve carts of fiction books the backroom lads sorted off the Gondorian wagon which was emptied in the predawn hours. It was increasingly frustrating that Karen and Whitney kept ordering more books from Gondor - and local village authors - they didn't need. It was a busy season because people enjoyed being shut up in their house reading in the winter to come, and collecting said books before the chilly weather set in, but no one read this much in Bree. Ann and other department managers in the bookstore were literally running out of space to shelve novels and merchandise like maps, writing utensils, bookmarks, calendars.... Karen was hellbent on contracting masons to add more unnecessary stories to the building. It was insane.

"You're kidding me. Nope. This is not happening to me today."

Colleen Peppermint, Miranda's teenage daughter and Elizabeth's best friend, stood in the entryway of the department. The blonde girl in a black and red pinafore slumped against the doorframe. The melodramatic threatre actress heaved a sigh so loud they could have heard it in the Kingdom of Dale. Colleen touched her one of her double beribboned ponytails anxiously and muttered that she would have to drag Dessy here to work so she wouldn't be alone during a shift. Only the surprise appearance of Meoi, Ann's Chetwood Forest Cat, could mollify the angsty Bree-girl. The white-and-bronze shorthair brushed past Ann's ankle. He sprang into Colleen's arms, sensing her disappointment, and purred when she rubbed the rosettes between his ears.

"Let me guess, we have another string of no-shows eho don't want to work with my grandma on deck this morning?"

"Which leaves me the only associate working here right now," came Colleen's glum reply. She perked up when Ann hugged her, promising she would help. Ann was one of those nice managers who was in the trenches with her troops.

Minutes later, Ann nearly fell off the rung of one ladder she was using when she heard the angelic voice of Athena. Meanwhile, Colleen gasped in astonishment. She dropped an armload of absurd Old Forest stories from the Shire about queer anthropomorphic badger-folk when she saw the famous actress. Athena was delighted that Ann recommended her a great crime novel jsut the other week. "I have been praised for my wonderful suggestions!" Ann, scuttling down the ladder, affirmed in a high reedy voice. She winced, hearing how goofy she sounded, and cleared her throat to repeat herself in her normal dulcet tone. "You know I'm not sure if you read Miranda's acknowlegements -" Of course she did, you numbskull, Ann thought to herself, cringing inwardly "- but The Bellflower Casebook was based on adventures of yours truly...." Ann showed off her badge for the third time this morning. "I'm a constable. An inspector now. It's my side hustle."

Out of her peripheral vision she saw Colleen, recovering from her shock, jerked her head back with an amused expression like 'Seriously, Ann?' .

"Miranda is my recorder," Ann explained, approaching Athena, feeling gradually more comfortable and bubbly as they spoke again. "She follows my husband and I when we have a case," gushed Ann with animated movements as the words tumbled out, "and writes down whatever we encounter in a yellow journal...like the one Amanda Bellflower uses to describe her thrilling missions in the casebook." Ann winked at Athena. "I wonder which quest held you spellbound the most...perhaps the Riddle of the Apeman." That short story in Volume One concerned Amanda's investigation of grisly woodcutter murders in the Chetwood. Villagers thought a huge Ape-like monster had torn them apart and devoured their flesh but really it was a large hairy cannibal who pursued his quarry in the skin of a bear. Freaky.

Athena sauntered to the cart Colleen loaded. She was still too overwhelmed by her nearness to her idol to say anything just yet though but felt a soaring elation that Athena was touching books Colleen had. "Romance? Varda's stars, we got countless romance novels!" Ann joined Athena by Colleen's cart before the teen could help. "Personally I love historical romances," Ann divulged, girlishly wrapping a wisp of her brown hair around a finger. "You should try the Realms in Exile." Ann plucked a thick collection in leather with gilt pages from the cart and set it on the table, accompanied by an illustrated version. "The epic series feature historical figures like Elendil and Earendur as characters but are largely told from the viewpoints of Dunedain created by the three authors of the series - Miranda and a couple, Scott and Allison Primrose. I believe you are friends with them, playwrights of the Sparrow Theater? These books have a legendary reputation for compelling chapters of love and war and vivid scenery descriptions."

Ann randomly opened the illustrated copy. She tapped a lavish rendering of Elendil facing a terrifying depiction of Sauron in Mordor. She slid her thumb over a portrait of three bearded irate brothers dressed in kingly attire on another page. "My favorite part so far is The Shattered Realm. It begins with the dissention of Earendur's children, spanning the civil wars years between Cardolan and Arethedain and Rhudaur then ending with the Angmar struggle and the fall of the North Kingdom. There's plenty of heartbreak between the divided fictional families the authors introduced so prepare youself for a good cry! Also, plenty of riveting creepy chapters about Rhudauran sorcerers and bloodthirsty Hill-men." Ann blurted laughter, admitting she read too much.

"Um, my turn," Colleen spoke to Athena, finally discovering her courage. "Bree geography is pretty simple. We know where Lindon and Gondor are and where Rivendell might be though few of us have ever gone there, I guess. My mom listens to wanderers who've been to places beyond Dale and the Lonely Mountain. She writes these exotic Eastern books about the natives of some countries called Rhun, Khand, and Harad. Our Edain ancestors once travelled through those regions in the First Age so they could reach Beleriand, escaping the Men of Darkness my Mom says." She flourished her hand over a dozen novels of garish painted hardcovers. Some exhibited desert scenes, colorful junngles, and dark-skinned warriors in desperate clashes with the Dark Men. "My mom's lurid tales of the East in this saga, Where the Stars Are Strange, are mostly made up but some are based on true events. Mom spoke with Strider to depict her sensational stories accurately. She spoke to Dwarven refugees, too, who are still fleeing to the Blue Mountains of Lindon." Colleen showed Athena an oil painting of the Blue Wizards of Gandalf's Istari Order holding staves and swords, riding gleaming horses against the fearsome mercenaries of Khand. "Strider told my mom he's heard differing stories about these Wizards, Alatar and Pallando. Some are good, some are bad but Strider thinks they're uniting good Easterlings out there, gathering tribes to protect themselves and us from the tyranny of evil folks."

Colleen and Ann laid every volume of Where the Stars Are Strange on the table then Miranda's daughter took a slimmer book out of the cart. It was a locked red hardback with deckled pages. An iron key was attached to a hemp cord on it. Colleen unlocked it and showed Athena the title page. There was a colored drawing of hooded Longbeard Dwarves clad in flowing bluish-grey robes. They were pictured standing on a fir slope of Ered Luin. "This is a philosophy book, Athena," said Colleen. "It was translated for us by Dwarven Sages of Forlindon. It is a book of proverbs."

"I hope we haven't bored you!" said Ann, tenatively wrapping an arm amicably around her. "Hey, I hope this doesnt' come off weird but...er, can I pet Snowbell? Word on the street is that your kitty is mean but I happen to be a cat whisperer, so - oh, look, here's my boy, Meoi!"

Meoi had fled this corner of the fiction department when he smelled Snowbell but now the glorious tomcat had returned. He stared at Snowbell with a malevolent intensity.

"Uh...don't worry, he's the nicest cat," lied Ann not so smoothly with a dismissive casual wave of her hand. "He always puts on this grumpy front for attention," Ann stuttered.

Meoi made a deep frightening sound, growling like a demon of Angband as he crept toward Snowbell although the longhaired white cat was still cuddled in Athena's arms.

"Hey, you mentioned Bill Ferny," Ann remarked, quickly changing the subject. She grimaced as well. "He is a creep. Has he been stalking you, Athena?" Ann frowned, watching Bill leering at Athena through a window. "I have to help Colleen here but my man, Vincent Snapdragon, could talk to him...make the slimy jerk an offer he can't refuse..."

[Tharmáras]

The Blue Box for @corlisswyn .

OOC to all: Next posts will be for Moriel and Fuin!

Rose Field finished preparing the small hospital of Bree-hill. The square building was painted blue and seemed wider within. It had been established generations ago owned by a myriad of Doctors from all kinds of respectable Bree families. When the last one retired and a travelling healer took his place, settling down. Its current physican was David Bugloss. He was an "out-of-towner", a stranger up from the Greenway. He came from an unknown hamlet in one of the vast woody stretches of Minhiriath, once territory of ancient Cardolan. David came to Bree nameless - he didn't share his identity, wanting to "start over" - but adopted a name suitable of the community to "fit in." The handsome young Doctor was a decade her senior, a man in his late thirties. He was a odd secretive fellow who didn't speak of his past. Rose believed something traumatic happened to him south and that he was fleeing whatever problem haunted him.

He was friendly and joyful man but quick to sorrow. He suffered quiet periods of silence with a wistful coutenance as if he was remembering something beautiful he had lost. He was of slender of build with immaculate unruly hair, long sideburns, and soft brown eyes. David seemed to be a Wizard's best friend. Rose often saw him with Istari including, Galen the Green and Piros the Red. Rose observed him speaking with Elf-lords like Aigronding (who, she heard, was a member of some kind of special fellowship called The White Council) or his relations - gardener daughter Eilianthel or Airien Mereniel, his niece-in-law skilled in aromatherapy; the Mordagnirs sold him medicinal herbs from Imladris or Lórien which couldn't be found locally. David was a person of some importance, that was certain.

She took a hand mirror framed in solid maple, engraved with rose motifs in high relief, from the pocket of her white dress. She brushed her hair, admiring the beautiful reflection of golden curls and full lips and dark blue eyes. Rose always wanted to look pretty for the Doctor. She knew her romantic feelings were mutually requited but he had gently refused her advances, claiming a relationship would be inappopriate. Rose thought it balderdash. There were plenty of couples in the Bree-land who worked alongside their husbands as partners in trade. Rose wouldn't stop encouraging him to change his mind. Stubborn man. "I'm going to be a spinster like Ally Bay at this rate," came her sullen thought, pouting. Her friend, a progressive woman like Annabelle Snapdragon, was single but by choice. "I'm just hooked on a gent who doesn't want me and I'm too doggone tenacious to find another bloke around." Again she heard Ally's voice rebuking her. "Must you find happinness in a person? You can live a life that's full without a man." Rose wished she could be as strong as Ally. Rose had been raised on courtly tales of dashing Cardolan lords whisking beautiful damsels off their slippered feet. "Do you see any chivalrous knights around? No. You need to grow up, my lass." Rose sighed, forcing Ally's lecturing voice out of her mind.

Suddenly, in walked the first customer of the day. Alerted by the tuneful bell which jingled when the door was opened, Rose turned about. An older woman in a sweater and fitted coat of dark cherry red stood at the threshold, wearing a grey knitted scarf wrapped around her throat. She was immediately awed by the airy interior of the shop where herbal remedies and medicinal elixers, salves and medical supplies like needle & thread for stitching wounds at home were stored for sale. There was a garden in the courtyard where vital ingredients like ginger, goldenseal, catnip, chamomile, fennel, mint, garlic, lavender, and sweet basil were grown. Bugloss did not use components like urine, earwax, human fat, saliva; he was adamantly opposed to using articles which he professionally considered ineffective or unsanitary to treat the villagers of Bree.

"Hello, welcome to the Blue Box!" Rose greeted her merrily with a broad sunny smile, gracefully drawing closer. She had never seen her before but was eager to help the woman. "It always looks bigger on the inside, everyone says so!" she affirmed, giggling. Rose asked for her name and what business she had at the Apothecary. The woman, Czarine, needed something to help her sleep restfully and was interested in an elixir that deadens pain from injury. She was also in need of a physician and asked if Bugloss was of service.

"Oh, we have many treatments for insomnia, ma'am!" Rose assured her, tapping the woman's shoulder. "One of the finest herbal solutions for folks in these parts in valerian." Rose guided her to a molded glass jar of the dried root. She flourished her hand toward the container filled with the yellowish-green powder. "Valerian has been used since the time of ancient Beleriand when our ancestors lived at Estolad, the old folks say," Rose explained. "There have been accounts Oliver Rowan has found of Edain who put valerian in the wedding raiment of the groom to ward off the jealousy of Elves interested in the bride. I'm sorry, I might know too much!" Rose laughed about the random superstitious remark before continuing her valerian discourse. "The plant is native to Eriador and Gondor and parts of Rhun. Food and drinks are flavored with valerian oil. Its delicately aromatic flowers have been used by Airien Mereniel, an Elf-lady of Rivendell, to make perfume. It is the root which is valuable to healers. It can be used orally for anxiety, as a sedative, and - of course - as a sleep aid." Rose handed Czarine the jar.

"If you're interested, soak two to three grammes of valerian root powder in 1 cup of water for an evening tea then you should have a heavenly rest! Side effects - headaches, stomach pain, and dizziness in some cases - are very much uncommon so you should be right as rain as we say in Bree. Come see us again if the situation doesn't approve and we'll fix you with something better for sure! Dried valerian root is worth one silver coin in this shop." Rose studied her closely again for a few seconds, surprised the woman didn't elaborate about the injurious condition, before speaking again. "We do have pain relief medicine, yes, but I should know what kind of discomfort you mean to ward off because that will narrow down the list of suitable choices, perhaps even lower the cost you need to spend." Rose brightened considerably as she spoke of David. "Doctor Bugloss is a phenomenal surgeon, Czarine! He is willing to perform any examinations or medical procedures here in the Blue Box. He's also adept at dentistry-"

Suddenly the double doors were flung over just as a trumpet fanfare of Bree-town musicians heralded the morning with a thrilling blast of golden horns. In stepped David Bugloss, grinning broadly, dressed in a brown frock suit. "Hello, I am the Doctor!" he announced gaily, doffing his tweed flat cap and winked at Rose who seemed ready to swoon any moment. "Who wants some drugs?" David asked, running a palm over his Really Good Hair.

[Sur Vanar Utírieste]

@Tharmáras

“If only my life was as filled with thrilling adventure and fateful romance!” declared Athena, admiring the constable badge pinned on the gray coat of Annabelle Snapdragon. She reached out the fingers of her right hand toward it but paused midway and retracted her touch. “But alas,” she continued, her initial smile faltering, “I am only a stage performer; the only derring-do I shall ever see is what is given to me by the playwrights of Bree, and the only places I shall ever go is wherever The Sparrow props around me attempt to imitate.”

Athena sighed wistfully, desiring at that moment to trade places with Annabelle. For as much as the flaxen-haired belle of Rohan loved her occupation, she had never wanted to live solely within its domestic boundaries. Her mother Hestia had never allowed her to learn how to fight, and her father Ares had been unwilling to instruct his only daughter in the martial arts. Young Athena often turned away from her cooking and needlework at home, just to catch a glimpse of her joyful brothers Aether and Odin outside, clacking wooden swords and swinging buckler shields; longing ever to join them.

“But one must make do with one has I suppose,” she concluded, thinking aloud. Athena then cleared her throat gracefully and turned her mind to more cheerful matters.

She listened attentively to Annabelle and Colleen, enthralled by the volumes they proffered to her. When asked if they had bored her, Athena laughed softly. “Not at all!” she said assuringly, “You ladies have always been so kind to me and I do appreciate you taking the time to go over each book with me.” Athena then reached into her purse and pulled out three glittering objects.

“This is for you,” said Athena, handing Annabelle an ornate rose-gold compact mirror, dotted with little sparkling crystals. She opened it to reveal the circle of pressed coral rouge inside. “I use the peach shade myself,” she whispered, leaning close and winking playfully at Annabelle. She turned to Miranda and offered her an attractive porcelain hairbrush encased in shining brass, painted with vibrant leaf and stem violets. “And for you,” said Athena, opening her right hand to Colleen Peppermint to exhibit a golden brooch shaped in the likeness of a honey bee with jet eyes and stripes.

“Please accept these favors, it is the least I can do for three marvelous, beautiful women such as yourselves,” insisted Athena contently, turning to the books that had been displayed for her consideration, “and as for your recommendations, I will take them all!”

Athena wrapped her arms merrily around an uneven stack of fiction as Annabelle asked politely to pet her darling Snowbell. “Of course you can dear, Snowbell loves you,” proclaimed the actress, shouldering the long-haired cat toward the Hill-Watch inspector. Snowbell hissed and bared her barb-like fangs. “Don’t worry, my sweety Snowbell is the same way,” she added when the tomcat residing in the bookstore approached. Athena dropped slowly toward the ground, allowing Snowbell to jump off of her. Snowbell then turned sharply to Meoi, standing outstretched on the cushioned pads of her soft feet. Her pupils dilated and the hairs of her long, white coat stood upright. Snowbell then arched her back and creased her face into a milk-curdling expression. She yowled resonantly at Meoi and spat at him in the animal tongue -

“You… will… die…”

Snowbell encircled her nemesis, sharp bony nails shooting from her paws. She rubbed her body against the legs of the nearby furniture, marking them with her scent and declaring them her property. With a sudden hiss, Snowbell propelled herself forward, claws swatting in a violent flurry, prepared to deliver a world of pain onto Meoi.

“They are absolutely in love!” gushed Athena, tilting her head to one side. “Does this make us in-laws?” she chuckled, affectionately suggesting to Annabelle that they make their pets a mated pair.

“Pervy Ferny, still stalking the ditz of Horseland I see,” remarked Philomena Brooks, the editor-in-chief of the infamous Hill Journal tabloid, as she approached Bill Ferny still spying on Athena from the window of the establishment.

“You said she loved me, Brooks,” he said temperamentally and frowning moodily, “but Athena doesn’t want me!”

Philomena pouted, feigning sorrow. “Aww Bill, of course she does! She told me herself. Honest. Athena is just shy that’s all.”

“...Really?” muttered Bill, looking curiously back at Athena inside.

“She lusts for you Ferny. Athena wants you as her man,” continued Philomena, still vengeful that the actress had refused her exclusive front row seats to a Sparrow production over a year ago. “Don’t you give up on love now, you hear.”

“Never,” grinned Ferny, pressing his face against the glass once again.

“Ah,” he said a moment later, “it looks like Vincent’s broad and her girlfriends are in there too.”

“Is that so?” purred Philomena, blue-gray eyes glinting with malice.

She dusted off the sleeves of her white, ruffled blouse. “Stand back lover boy, and watch a master at work,” said Philomena, swinging the door of Coralbell & Clementine open forcefully, and marching in.


“Trying to fill that empty head of yours with something useful, Athena?” commented Philomena, making her presence known.

“Philomena Brooks,” returned Athena sternly, “If I could go a hundred years without seeing you it would not be long enough.”

“Ouch. Careful who you insult Athena, or you might end up on the front page of the next Journal publication,” replied Philomena with wicked delight.

“Yeah, careful!” reiterated another from behind the editor-in-chief.

“Of course, you would have your Weasel with you,” said Athena, eyeing the Hobbit.

“It’s Westley,” hissed the tween, “Westley Appledore.”

He pointed angrily to his ginger curls, a silent indication that the unique shade of his Halfling tresses should be a reminder of his name.

“Well, you certainly act like one,” said Athena, wagging a finger at him.

“You will have to forgive Athena, Westley,” said Philomena to her Hill Journal illustrator, “the brains of these bumpkins out in the Westfold are clouded with too much manure they’ve breathed in.”

She turned to the actress again. “But don’t worry, if Miranda and Colleen can learn to complete a sentence, I am certain you can too.”

Athena’s cheeks reddened.

Philomena shot a challenging gaze at Annabelle. “Care to defend Athena’s honor, tomboy? Or are you too drunk on the nerd, Miranda’s bootleg rum to duel me?” she asked the constable, wrapping her fingers around the basket hilt of her rapier sword.

“Oh, but wait,” she said, tapping a finger against her chin and looking down at the Hobbit, ”who is the rapier champion of the Bree-lands? And has been since she was thirteen-years-old?”

“Why Philomena Brooks of course,” said Westley, bowing from his waist with a dramatic sweep of his left arm.

“That’s right, I am,” confirmed Philomena, smiling arrogantly at Annabelle before addressing Westley once more, “What you think Appledore, is that corset on Athena looking a little tighter than usual?”

“I think you are right,” agreed Westley, plucking the quill from his cap and scratching its darkened tip on a small piece of parchment.

Athena clenched her trembling fists, as trails of invisible steam rose from the high roll of her hair.

“I’m sure my readers would love to know that the lead actress of The Sparrow is fattening up,” laughed Philomena, turning to leave.

“Why can’t you write the truth for once?” asked Athena, chiding the vile woman.

Philomena laughed. “Truth? Oh Athena, you really are a dumb blonde aren’t you?” she said, “Don’t you know? Truth is only a matter of perspective.”

Westley pivoted with a hop, following his boss out of the bookstore.

*

@Tharmáras
@Fuin Elda

Philomena and Westley collided dripping pints of ale as they walked along the Market, celebrating their victory in the bookstore.

“Make sure you make Athena look like an Oliphaunt on next week’s cover,” she said to the Hobbit, taking a swing at her beverage before tossing the unfinished mug aside. It fell on the paved ground and spilled alcohol onto the street as it rolled away.

“Don’t worry, I will,” chuckled Westley, taking a gulp and throwing his mug too.

Philomena licked her lips before spotting a few familiar faces and a crooked smirk stretched across her face.

“Psst! Follow me, partner,” she whispered to Westley, coming up to the stall of Aigronding Mordagnir.

“Why if isn’t the Herald of Pixie Valley,” laughed Philomena, “Taking a break from dancing around tree trunks to peddle your fairy dust?”

“How is Hatholdir by the way, I hear he’s the King of his own island, and you-” she snickered, “sell cider on the side of the road?”

Philomena flicked an elbow at Westley. “I hear Aigronding’s people are leaving Middle-earth by the boatloads.”

“Good,” she said, returning her attention to the Elves with contempt, “Beat it. We don’t need you around.”

“Yeah,” repeated Westley, “beat it!”

Philomena caught a glimpse of the necklaces in the adjacent stall and shook her head. “What is it with you pointy-eared freaks and your jewelry? Good grief!”

Westley pointed at their vendor, Fuin Elda. “That’s Fuin,” he said.

“Fooo-eeeen?” uttered Philomena in a prolonged tone, “What kind of a stupid name is that? Did your parents sneeze when they picked that one out?”

“F-Fuin!” sneezed Westley.

“Bless you,” replied Philomena.

They held one another and guffawed.

Philomena then switched targets, studying Tharmáras and his children. “Stuck with the brats again today, Thar? I guess your wife must wear the breeches at home.”

“Let’s hope this one works out, but they do say that third time’s the charm, no? Of course, for you, it’s the fourth,” she chortled, looking at his family’s bodyguard, “Don’t worry, I’m sure if things fall through with Nariel, Mauya here will take you back. Leftovers make an excellent substitute for a full meal.”

Westley tugged at her leather pants, and Philomena raised an eyebrow. She stepped forward to the Elf-woman who didn’t seem as audible as the others. “Hello! Hello-o-o!” exclaimed Philomena, waving her right hand and snapping her fingers rudely in front of Girithniel’s face.

“Middle-earth to Mute Elf-girl!”

[Rillewen]

Private with @Pele Alarion and @Ercassie

At Buckthorn Barber's
(A flashback story set in winter)

Brooke's arms were wrapped around herself, shivering with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders for warmth; the only wrap she had against the cold. Why did it have to snow? She could feel the cold wet of it seeping through her shoes, if that's what one could call them. She would much rather be inside, immersed in her book. Even if it was almost just as cold in her room, at least the snow hadn't made it's way into her room. Except a little by the window.

Her thoughts were not on the snow, however, nor on her broken window. The girl was busy trying to think of how she might deceive her stepmother without really deceiving her. Claire said to buy groceries, but she didn't say exactly how much. If Brooke could buy enough food for them to live on, and also save back a little bit of the money, she'd be that much closer to getting that new book she wanted. The girl had a small stash saved back, and was still needed a good deal of money before she would have enough. Sadly, she had little hope of getting it anytime soon.

Her first errand, of course, should to be the letters. Or at least, the one. She was loathe to do it though. Frowning to herself, Brooke wondered why she had to have such a horrid stepmother. The woman seemed to live purely for the sake of making Brooke's life miserable. With the threat of going yet another day without food, Brooke trudged through the snow toward the market area where the barber's shop was located.

At least it was mostly quiet out here, with no bothersome people were out and about this early. 'Because everyone else is staying inside where it's warm.' She thought to herself, rubbing her arms. She watched her breathe make puffs of white fog in the cold air, and tried to imagine herself as her favorite character in her book, venturing out bravely into the world to do great adventures and things.

There was the barber shop, just ahead. She paused in the street and stared at it. Her stomach felt all fluttery and she hugged herself tighter. She wasn't sure if it was the cold or her nervousness that made her shiver harder. She took a shaky breath and trudged onward, toward her destination. Maybe she could just hand him the letter and hurry off. She hoped it would be that easy. She'd seen the man around enough, though she hadn't actually met him, and knew that he was a drunkard just like her father and therefore, she wanted nothing at all to do with him. She certainly did not want to be anywhere alone with him. Who knows what sort of creep this guy might be.

Stopping on the doorstep going to the barber shop, Brooke hesitated. She glanced around. The streets were empty. Earlier, she had felt like that was a good thing. Now, she wasn't so sure. Swallowing nervously, Brooke gave a timid knock on the door to the shop. She practically winced at the noise.. it sounded loud to her ears, yet she knew it wasn't loud enough to really be effective. It was barely a tentative tap on the door. She fidgeted with the edge of her satchel, reluctant to accomplish her errands even though it was so cold here.

Should she knock again? Should she wait? There's no way that knock was loud enough, right? Maybe she could just stick the envelope under the door and run before anyone came to answer the door? But what if he didn't know it was there, and then Claire would be angry with Brooke. With a nearly inaudible groan, Brooke knew she would have to knock louder. 'Maybe he's not home...' She thought, half-hopeful, but she knew that wasn't likely to be the case. She knocked again on the door. Surely that was loud enough.. her knuckles hurt from the cold and the knocking, and she'd heard it loud enough. It sounded far too loud in the empty street, but she hoped it was enough. She stepped back and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, fidgeting a little as she waited, and contemplated slipping it under the door.


Ooc: also please add my vendors?

Vendor: Walto Tunnelly & family
Race: Hobbit
Stall: Tunnelly's General Goods
Selling: general groceries; dry goods and produce(when in season) along with miscellaneous merchandise typically found in general stores

And:
Vendor: Lauryl Woods
Race: human
Stall: Woods' Warm Woolies
Selling: Yarn, Woven wool cloth, and thread, as well as knitted/crocheted garments/blankets, hand-carved/whittled knitting needles and crochet hooks

[Pele Alarion]

Aislin
At Buckthorn Barber's

She had been enjoying a few moments of restless sleep, on a doorstep of someone's house, huddled up in an old cloak that she had found discarded - it made for a rather good blanket and a bit of a hiding place from the chill of the night. Aislin had hope that people who lived in this house would not decide to leave too early and knock her out by swinging the door wide open. She had already been chased away from a few other places that night.

A few moments of sweet sleep she had enjoyed, when she heard repeated knocking somewhere nearby. With an annoyed sigh, she stood up, wrapped the cloak around her thin frame and stepped out to see what was going on.

She saw a girl, maybe a couple years older than herself, staring intently at the door of barber's shop.

"Think anyone is awake there yet?" Aislin spoke suddenly in a clear and cheerful, though somewhat sleepy voice, addressing Brooke. She stood some ways off, in the middle of the street, only a a few strands of black hair peeking out from the covering of the oversized cloak. "Might as well get yelled at, if anyone answers the door," she added, making assumptions from what rumours she had heard around the town and not too gentle welcome she had received around the town.

[Rillewen]

@Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows
Doorstep of Buckthorn Barber's shop

Brooke shivered as she stood in the cold. Seeing as she personally didn't have a very steady sleep schedule, she had a hard time with knowing for sure what other people's wake up times were. Still, she had a feeling that most businesses would be opening about now. Was she even supposed to knock at a business? She normally wouldn't, but this felt different to her, somehow. Besides, women didn't usually come into places like this, and she felt awkward about that, in and of itself.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that it startled her when she heard someone speak behind her. She jumped, spinning around, then observed the other girl, slightly younger perhaps than herself. Brooke rubbed her arms as she stood there on the doorstep of the shop. "Um, I don't know. I don't see any hours posted." She pointed out, a little awkward. She wondered why that was. Did the guy not keep certain business hours? She wished she didn't have to do this stupid errand. Why couldn't her stepmother go and do this herself? The answer, of course, she already knew; Claire wasn't going out in the cold, in the early hours of the day, to deliver a message. She had Brooke to do that for her.

She tried not to think about that as she looked at the other girl. "S-Sorry if I bothered you." She mumbled apologetically. Maybe she ought to slip the letter under the door and go on about her shopping and be done with it. She wasn't sure if she'd seen this girl around before, but she didn't know all that many people anyway, so that wasn't too surprising. "Um.. do you live near here?" She asked, thinking that maybe she could tell Brooke when the guy usually opened his shop.

[Tharmáras]

GM Non-IC Update. Changes to the OP, instituting new rules regarding posting content, have been made 06/15/21. Everything posted before this announcement is not considered (nor will it ever be considered) a breach of thread guidelines.

[Ercassie]

Henley Buckthorn and Barley the dog
Buckthorn Barbers
@Rillewen @Pele Alarion

Henley Buckthorn was a tall man, but not overly impressive in his frame. He presented as an overgrown fawn, all elbows and knees. His hair was the next thing that people tended to notice about him, for all the wrong reasons. A barber, whose vocation set him to cut hair, shave beards, generally improve on a customer’s appearance … he was no good advertisement for his own profession. The mousey brown hair was greasy, unkempt, and his jaw was grizzled. His expression was no real invitation for anyone to spend time with him either, for the pale eyes were glazed by whisky which still wafted from his unwashed shirt. He hung about the wooden doorframe, like a vast sheet of dirty laundry. Indeed it seemed that a mere breeze would carry him from his swaying height, to the wooden floor.

The dog was a bloodhound, and his bark may have been worse than his bite, but noone would know. He had never bitten anybody. He was good tempered, cowed by his master, whom he followed about like a shadow. But for all the love and devotion he bore for Henley, all the loyalty … there was not a thing the man could do about the canine’s noise.


As soon as the girl (Brooke) had begun to pound upon his master’s door, the dog had awoken. Henley too had stirred, from where he was curled upon the floor of the barber shop. But the man had instinctively rolled up in his foetal state. The ‘one drink’ last night had turned to ‘two drinks’ had turned to ‘two bottles’. He was not sure where he even had obtained the coin to afford such a gluttonous fiesta. His head could not focus upon that dilemma though, not when it felt like an egg, with cracks already fracturing it’s thin skin. Every pound of the door, the man groaned a little louder, and the dog ran around and around him until he threw … he could not find a stick or equivalent to hand. Waving one hand, dismissive, the dog had watched the non-stick not fly across the room. And barked with renewed excitement.

That was when the man had risen, slowly, haphazard. At full height, he staggered over the sheer nothing in his path, dancing a zigzag across the room. He basically fell against the door, with a loud crash that saw it shudder on it’s hinges. But it was yet locked and so a new hunt then commenced, to locate the keys. He searched his pockets last, only after he had torn apart the already dishevelled room. No harm done there, but time wasted. It would be typical if his caller had given up by the time he got to them, but mayhaps the commotion he was raising would assure them he was home. After all, some times folk called for him whom he could not afford to ignore. Literally, he could not afford to insult certain folks.


Managing the key into the lock had never been more of a chore, and he threw an open hand, frustrated, against the dark wood more than once. The dog bellowed his relentless chant of support, sat at the man’s feet, but when the key finally worked it’s magic, the animal loitered behind his master. His howling presence made sure the caller knew that he was on hand, though he was hiding. Henley seemed though unafraid.

It took him a moment glancing forward, until he tried casting his gaze down, to find a girl stood upon his stoop. A second was stood beside her. A shadow across the street made the barber glance up, and just as swiftly shake the thought off that he had imagined anyone at all stood there. A foot stamped hard down to suggest the dog be calm, though the man took up a howl in his stead, for he had no boot upon that foot, only upon the other. He wiped a shaking hand over his face, to try and properly rouse his senses, before wiping any grime he’d gained there down his soiled trews.

Slowly the pain subsided in his bare foot, and he found the strength to make enquiries.

“What’s all this now ?” he peered through the bleary sight of part-awake, and fought to focus on the two potential customers. “You gels got up a fancy ter git your braids shorn ?” Almost falling off the balance which had caught him against one door beam, he caught himself upon the other, just in time to keep from falling flat in front of both of them.



****
@Tharmáras - as per OP request
Store Owner - Henley Buckthorn
Race - Man of Bree
Store - Buckthorn Barbers
Selling - Haircuts, Shaving, basics mainly. Do not get your hopes up. You'll be lucky if Henley remembers to open up.

Store Owner - Amos Dogwood
Race - Man of Bree
Store - Soul Mates
Selling - New and second hand shoes and boots. Cobblers (repair) service.

[Pele Alarion]

Aislin
Buckthorn Barbers

It seemed that Brooke did not display a hostile attitude or immediate dislike to her, so Aislin came a bit closer and allowed the cloak to slip off of her head to reveal an unkempt mop of black hair, a pair of inquisitive brown eyes and a small friendly grin.

"Nah, not living here. If anything, I've been round and about for a week or so," she shrugged. "Locals ain't too friendly. I can work, but no one offers anything but a handful of nasty words." But she was not about to turn this unexpected meeting into a complaint session of how difficult her life had become.

"Name's Aislin, by the way. And yours?" she finally remembered to make some sort of introductions.

Then she walked up to the shop and peered through the window in an attempt to see if there was any movement within, and then tried the door, finding it locked.

"Hey... Is it something really important?" she asked with a nod towards the letter Brooke held. "I could raise some proper noise in that case to get the folk to come out, already used being yelled at for no reason at all, so one more time wouldn't change anything." Aislin offered, and then added, "Unless it can wait, of course."

And then the knocking, or their voices, or both combined achieved some result - the door opened, and the barber (or so Aislin assumed) appeared in the doorway.

[Rillewen]

@Pele Alarion @Ercassie

Brooke Willows
Doorstep of Buckthorn Barber's shop

Brooke relaxed a bit when the other girl(Aislin) spoke friendly enough toward Brooke. She smiled faintly at the girl, but it was hard to smile very much when she was still very cold and her thin blanket was not really sufficient for this sort of weather, though it was all she had. The other girl's cloak looked like it must be warmer, in fact, but she didn't begrudge her the cloak. From the looks and sounds of what she said, Aislin didn't even have a home to go to.
"They aren't usually, no." Brooke agreed, shivering. She had never really known any of the locals to be all that friendly to her. But then, she mostly stayed indoors to avoid them. She didn't meet all that many people, but whenever she came out to town to do errands, it seemed that most people gave her dirty looks or tried to avoid her, and she'd heard people whispering and telling their kids to avoid her. It was a little nice to meet someone who didn't know her or her family's reputation.
"I'm Brooke." She answered Aislin, giving a tiny smile. The smile faltered a bit as she watched the other girl try the locked door. Her attention was called back to the letter, and she hesitated. "Oh..." She looked down at it. She honestly had no idea if it was important, but according to Claire, it was vital that she deliver it at once. She wrapped her blanket closer around her shoulders, debating.

"I could raise some proper noise in that case to get the folk to come out, already used being yelled at for no reason at all, so one more time wouldn't change anything." Aislin offered, to which Brooke's eyes widened, feeling a little alarmed by this suggestion.
She hastily shook her head. "Oh, no. Th-that isn't n-necessary, really." She assured her, teeth chattering slightly. "It... c-can wait, I just hoped..." She trailed off as she heard the sound of someone stirring inside, and footsteps approached the door. Brooke tensed with a nervous feeling in her stomach, then jumped as a dog's barking could be heard from inside. A crash against the door made her jump back a little bit, nearly slipping on some ice. She glanced nervously at Aislin, and let out a slow shaky breath, which showed as a little puff of white around her mouth in the frosty air. She could hear noises like he was fumbling around at the door. Should she tell Aislin to go on? Or would she be better off with another person around?
Brooke remained hesitating as she debated about what to do. She didn't want to be all alone with Henley, but she also didn't want the younger girl to be subjected to a possibility dangerous drunkard. Torn between the two decisions, Brooke stood rooted to the spot until at last, the door flung open and the man stood there, intimidating, drunk or hungover, and probably angry.
Brooke flinched slightly as the man stomped on his own foot. That must have hurt. She fidgeted, trying not to breathe too deeply because of the horrible alcohol smell hovering about the man before her. She tried to figure out what exactly to say. At last he demanded to know what they were doing there.

“What’s all this now? ...You gels got up a fancy ter git your braids shorn?”

"N..no, no sir." Brooke stammered, nervous as well as cold, now. This should be simple enough. She glanced uneasily at the dog, then at the man, debating which was more of a danger to her. At last she tentatively held out the letter for Henley. "I... um, I was told to deliver this to you... as soon as I could." She explained, her gaze downcast as she offered the envelope to him. With any luck, her first task would be completed now. But somehow, she had some feeling that she would have more to do with this task before it was finished.

[Pele Alarion]

Aislin
Buckthorn Barbers

As the man came crashing against the door, Aislin peered at him and out of curiosity tried to get a peek indoors; besides, she was not too concerned about the dog, but still all of this sudden noise sent her rushing away from the door. In her haste she even dropped the cloak, but after taking a few moments to breathe deeply and regard the other man on the street who had spoken to them with a small smile, she blushed in embarrassment and returned to pick up the cloak.

After all it was her most treasured possession and would keep her reasonably warm during the many cold nights. The worn out leggings and shirt did little to protect her from the chilly weather, even though she had done her best to patch the garments up, when a new tear appeared on the knee or elbow, or somewhere along the edges. But the thread would soon run out too...

Draping the cloak around her shoulders once again, she stared at the man who finally appeared in the doorway, and at his dog. She wondered if the other stranger was still somewhere around, just in case... But then again, they could easily escape this man who could barely stand on his feet, could they not?

She observed Brooke hand over the letter, half prepared to defend the new acquaintance, should the need arise, though she had nearly fled just moments ago. Then Aislin turned her attention to the dog, gently patting her hand against her thigh to see if it would be friendly and maybe wag the tail instead of barking.

[Ercassie]

Henley Buckthorn and Barley the dog
Buckthorn Barbers
@Rillewen @Pele Alarion

Henley drew his head to gaze from one girl to the other, thankful that they stood not so same in appearance he might think that he was seeing double. Only the one of them responded to his question and he took her to be the one in charge of .. whatever this was. An envelope was thrust toward him, and the barber’s eyes narrowed as he glanced from it to the young thing eager to be rid of it.

She called him ‘sir’ and Buckthorn might have swaggered in an absurd pride, but that he had raised his sore foot, and massaged it now in one hand. This left him less than stately in his posture, yet still able to gaze down upon the pair of intruders.

“Yer woke me,” he made them aware of the offense. “For what good reason ? Who was it sent yer ?”


There was little chance that accepting or else inspecting the envelope could give him this information as Henley had never wasted time on reading further than his own name. That he had painted in spidery black letters outside of the store as soon as his father passed on. Horace Buckthorn had been many things but he ensured that his son had the means to continue their modest legacy.

“It had best be worth my getting up for,” he warned Brooke, trying to wave a finger at her and almost falling off balance as he leant in closer. “Darn near broke my door down an’ all ..” he added with a grump, observing Aislin turn her attention to his dog.

The animal had of course leapt up at her the moment shown a piece of attention. Ready to bowl the slight girl over onto her back, unless she could handle the sudden ‘assault’. Barley the bloodhound ceased with his barking at least, as he turned his tongue instead to slavering over his new friend.

“You ! Hey, you stop now ! Don’t do that !” Henley rounded upon the pair, though failed to clarify whether he was berating the dog or the young girl. He didn’t recognise this one any more than the other female. But they were not here to give him business and unless there was a wad of coin in the envelope, he saw little reason to get excited by their visit. Eyeing the envelope again, he saw that it looked to have only paper inside. In an effort to frown, he suddenly threw one hand across his mouth, expecting to sneeze, and instead released a mighty belch. As his sore foot dropped from the caressing hand that held it back onto the porch, he cussed aloud.

[Rillewen]

@Pele Alarion @Ercassie

Brooke Willows
Doorstep of Buckthorn Barber's shop

Brooke glanced briefly toward Aislin when she practically flew away from the door. That was exactly what Brooke wanted to do, but she had to get rid of this stupid letter. She had to stay put, as much as she wanted to get away from there. The smell of alcohol coming from the guy in front of her was almost too much for her, and she was trying to hold her breath as much as she could. Then there was the language.. Brooke tried not to cringe at every curse word that issued forth from Henley's mouth but there were so many that she was having trouble. Not to mention the atrocious grammar. The people in her books didn't talk so crudely... why couldn't she be in one of those stories?

During the moment when Aislin had dropped her cloak, Brooke noticed the poor state of the girl's clothing. She felt bad for her, and also felt glad that she had the cloak. Brooke's clothes hadn't gotten that bad yet, primarily because her mother had taught her how to patch clothing, for which she supposed she ought to be glad of. Only her shoes had long since worn out, leading Brooke to get creative and make some new ones, woven from the bark of birch trees that grew behind her house. She hoped Aislin's shoes were enough to keep her feet from freezing in this cold weather. For now, though, Brooke focused on accomplishing her task, but her mind was half thinking on the matter of the other girl. Maybe she could try and do something to help her. Brooke felt more inclined to want to help her, since she had been nice enough to Brooke and not treated her like something to be scorned.

"Um..." Brooke looked back at Henley, shrinking back a little, though maybe not noticeably so. He was seriously accusing her of nearly breaking his door down? She'd barely tapped on it the first time, and then had knocked more like a normal person... The door probably did more damage to to her poor knuckles. She stopped herself from saying anything about that though, as he asked who the letter was from. She refrained from answering, 'my stepmother' and cleared her throat softly before speaking. "C-Claire..Willows." She answered, though having to add her own last name after Claire's seemed to leave a bad taste in her mouth, figuratively. "She insisted that I make sure you get it." She held back a sigh, wishing she could be done here. Would he just take the letter already? Getting a 'thanks' was too much to ask for, she was sure, but she didn't mind that. She considered just setting it down on something so he could get it for himself in his own time, but she didn't really see anything she could set it on. "Um..." She tried to think how to nicely ask 'can I go now?'. "So... here it is..." She tried offering it to him again, feeling quite awkward about this.

She cringed a bit as he dropped his foot, burped, and began cussing. Brooke wished she had some means of going invisible. If she could just...but no, even if she could go invisible, her footprints would show in the snow if she ran away. She bit her lip and waited, wrapping her arms around herself to try and warm up under her blanket-shawl, the letter still in her hand. It was far too cold to be standing out here without gloves or a proper coat, and her arms and hands, and feet were starting to feel numb with the cold. She wondered if maybe she could take a few minutes to warm up in the inn after this was accomplished, although she wasn't sure she liked that idea... certain drunk people might be lurking there as well.

Brooke glanced over toward Aislin, catching her breath as she watched the dog go to attack the other girl. For a second she tensed, fearing it was going to bite Aislin, but then relaxed when she saw that all it was doing was getting attention. Nothing to be worried about. Until Henley started yelling. Brooke jumped a bit at the sudden, “You! Hey, you stop now! Don’t do that!”

Who was he yelling at? Brooke froze, fearing he was going to come rushing to attack Aislin for daring to try and pet his dog. She had no idea what sort of temper this guy might have. If he was the sort that would come running out and hit the girl in a fit of anger, Brooke was tensed and ready to flee, and hoped that Aislin was ready to run too. She thought swiftly to think of a few places they might be able to hide. She supposed, if nothing else, they might be safe enough in the Prancing Pony, and it would be warm there. Though, for now she waited to see what was going to happen next... they might not need to run after all.

[Pele Alarion]

Aislin
Buckthorn Barber's

Her attention was distracted from the exchange between the drunk man and the newly made acquaintance with the letter, as the dog responded to the small movement of hand she had made and rushed at her.

"Oy, careful lad!" she exclaimed, as her knees buckled under the dog's weight, and she fell unto her butt on the cold ground. The dog's excitement was so obvious and expressed by the eager licking that Aislin could not help but laugh. She scratched behind the dog's ears and then tried to keep it back enough to scramble back to her feet.

The previous fright she had experienced from the crashing on the door was now gone, and she merely looked at the man in response to his yell.

"I mean no harm. He's just... rather cute," she said, finally finding enough space to get up. Now she looked questioningly at Brooke to see how far her letter delivering business had gone. At any rate it seemed that the guy was not too eager to receive any consignments after all.

@Rillewen, @Ercassie

[Ercassie]

Henley Buckthorn and Barley the dog
Buckthorn Barbers
@Rillewen @Pele Alarion

“Barley here ain’t ‘cute’” the Barber protested, as the ragtag little girl picked herself up. “He’s yer run-a-the-mill coldblood killer ! He’s a guard dog !” Henley tried the threat with a serious line to his mouth, while the amiable dog did nothing to support such an unlikely claim. Running merrily around Aislin, he looked thrilled to have made a friend who would tickle his ears .. instead of throwing things and stomping about a lot.

“He’ll eat yer soon as look at yer, ‘specially for trespassing and vandalising other folkses property,” the hungover Breeman was fooling noone but himself, and indeed the dog had not quite lived up to expectations. Still it seemed to forgive him for forgetting to feed them both. It was company and a man like Mr Buckthorn wasn’t dripping in that sort of luxury. “Not enough meat on yer bones though,” he concluded, supposing this was the only reason the small urchin was not maimed and devoured right there and then. The dog sniffed at her hands, tongue lolling one sided from its non-slavering jaw.


The Man’s attention returned to Brooke as though sizing her up also, for dogmeat. Else it was the name ‘Claire Willows’ which lured him back to the letter. That woman was a siren and Henley a helpless sailor, or the Breeland equivalent. He’d been sweet on her since soon as ever he’d laid eyes upon her. Forget that she had a husband. She was kind to Henley and there hadn’t been a woman kind to Henley since his mother had passed on. Nonetheless, he too now wore a stupid grin, that near matched the bloodhound’s.


“Claire” the barber spoke that woman's name as though it was a song. He sighed heavily and his demeanour utterly altered. “An angel that woman,” he decided to declare. It went without question that Mrs Willows would not have to come all the way into town herself. People, he supposed, were lining up to do things for her. He knew that he would. He had, in fact. She was a goddess with her shining golden hair.

“Come then, you tell me what she’s got ter say to me,” he clung with one hand from the doorframe and veered down over the taller girl. Claire always had nice things to say to him, when he visited her home, he wasn't bothered by the thought of these two young things hearing the like. They might even learn themselves something.

“None a- us wanna stand around here all the bleedin’ day ..” Somehow his being cold on the porch (he'd concluded) was the girl’s fault for loitering, for hesitating. She looked a timid little thing, not like the warm sweethearted Claire. “Yer can ... actually ... read ... this here letter, eh ?” he asked, with a mocking laugh which dared her to demand that he read it for himself.

It was quite clear he would not without her assistance. And then whatever Claire wanted wouldn’t be done.

“Quick now, gel, afore my dog eats up yer little friend ..” the Barber added, yawning. Barley stuck his nose in Aislin's palm, and urged for her pats and attention merrily.

[Rillewen]

@Pele Alarion @Ercassie

Brooke Willows
Doorstep of Buckthorn Barber's shop

Brooke relaxed a bit, once it seemed that Aislin was alright. The dog was not attacking her, after all. In fact, he looked rather unlikely to attack anyone, despite Henley's claims. She watched the 'coldblood killer' hop around Aislin happily, begging for petting and attention. She thought he seemed a bit cute, too, but she didn't say so. He just looked so happy to have found someone to give him attention. Brooke gave a faint little smile at this and turned back toward Henley, anxious to complete her errand.

“Claire. An angel that woman,” the man said with a sigh. The goofy look on his face made it very difficult for Brooke not to roll her eyes.

'Angel? really?' Brooke couldn't help thinking. 'Well, I suppose even Melkor was technically an angel, wasn't he? A fallen one, maybe.' She kept a 'poker face' on, although inside she was a mix of feelings. Disgusted. Amused. In fact, she wouldn't have known which to demonstrate outwardly. If she made a face of disgust, then Henley might take offense and decide he must 'defend' Claire. Or, if she burst out laughing at the idea of Claire being an angel, he would likely still feel the need to defend her. Best just to keep her face neutral in expression, while her thoughts remained in her head. This also included refraining from pointing out to the idiot that Claire was only faking all that nice nonsense, and that she was really quite a hideously awful person.

Finally, though, he was agreeing to receive the letter. Now she could be on her way and... wait, no. He was asking her to read it. Brooke paused and glanced from him to the letter. He wanted her to read the letter to him? She opened her mouth to protest. She had no desire to read this. For all shrew knew, it could be a love letter from her stepmother to some other guy. But no words came out and she quickly closed her mouth again.

She looked down at the envelope in her hand, and then heard him questioning her own ability to read. Annoyance rose up inside her at his mocking laugh, and she inhaled a slow breath as she reminded herself to stay calm. It would help nothing for her to get angered.

"Yes, I can read." She answered in a soft tone. 'I suppose that means you can't, though,' She thought in a retort that she would never actually voice. She gave a small sigh. She might as well get it over with. Chances are, the man probably couldn't read, or he would probably have snatched the letter as soon as she told him it was from Claire.

Taking a quick glance over at Aislin, Brooke decided that she seemed preoccupied with the dog enough that maybe she wouldn't listen too much. Also, well, Brooke had thankfully not announced who 'Claire Willows' is, and Aislin may just assume that Brooke is a completely un-related messenger. And as for Henley's last 'threat' about the dog eating her friend, Brooke had no concerns about that whatsoever. The dog looked about as likely to eat Aislin as Henley was likely to suddenly become a completely sober man who never touched alcohol again.

Sliding the letter carefully out of the envelope, Brooke tried to keep her cold hands from shaking in the freezing air. Her fingers hurt from being so cold, and she knew they'd only go from there to being numb. She wished she had some gloves, but maybe if she read fast she could get someplace warm soon.

Opening the paper, Brooke blinked at the scribbled writing. Some spots were blotted messily, and she concluded that Claire must have been drunk when writing this. With a sigh, she began to read.

"Alright, it says;
"Dearest Henley," Brooke cringed a little at the words as well as the spelling. 'Deerest? seriously?' she mentally rolled her eyes, and then continued at a slower reading-pace than she would usually have, "I hope your.. business.." she corrected Claire's spelling in her head, "is very going well. You..surely have talent for it..enough. I haven't ever met a man with such skill and.. ability.." Brooke tried not to snicker at the way Claire had spelled the word. "..as yours. You're probably wondering why you're getting this letter so I will..explain." Brooke sighed a little, trying not to be too obvious about it. Translating all the misspellings was both amusing and pathetic. 'Goodness, what sort of torture has that woman been putting these words through to accomplish such horrendeous spellings?' Brooke wondered, during a brief pause. She continued reading, feeling rather annoyed that she probably sounded like she could hardly read, herself, due to the fact she was having to translate the letter as she went.

"I felt it.. necessary to let you know that after the card game the other night, you have come to owe me.. quit?" Brooke was briefly puzzled by the word here before figuring out what Claire meant to write. "..quite, a lot of money. As much.. I as? ...Oh, As much as I look forward to your visits, I'm afraid I can't make time to meet with you unless you can pay your.. debts." Brooke bit her lip to keep from looking too amused by the strange spellings used. She cleared her throat and continued in a detached sort of tone, "I'd be.. quite sad if you weren't able to come visit again but my famly must eat... you know." 'Yeah, cause the family is definitely her topmost concern.' she thought to herself, sarcastically. "If you have the money now you can send to it me by the girl..." She paused and stared for a second at the word 'Boork' on the paper. Seriously? "Brooke," she continued, feeling annoyed that the woman couldn't even spell her name right, "when you get this letter." Brooke stopped there and glanced up at Henley, unsure how he might react to this. She fidgeted slightly. "Um, that would be me.. I'm Brooke." She added, clarifying since he likely had no idea of her name. There was more to the letter but she really needed a break from it for a moment, and she thought she might as well see if he might have some money he could give her right now. That would probably make things easier, right? Though, of course, Claire didn't bother to mention how much he was supposed to give her.

[Pele Alarion]

Aislin
Buckthorn Barber's

She could not help but grin at the threats made by Henley, though she sort of did believe that in the right circumstances Barley could be a very good guard dog. However, they had not been breaking into his property or anything, and the dog was the sweetest creature there was.

Aislin followed the dog with her eyes, as he circled her exuberantly, as if he had just tasted the freedom for the first time, though she supposed the man had to let the dog out at times...

"Barley is a good name," she concluded, and then knelt down to pet the dog some more. "Right?" She asked him, running her fingers through his fur, and then planting a small kiss on the very tip of his nose.

No matter how busy she was with the dog, Aislin could not help but listen in to Brooke reading the letter, and when her new acquaintance had gotten to what she thought was a full stop, it struck her as something funny. While her hands were busy with the dog, she glanced up at Henley to see whether he thought as much of the woman Claire when she now obviously wanted money from him. And somehow the girl assumed he must not have much, for drinking habits had to drain people's money as if they were putting them in pockets with holes.

[Ercassie]

Henley Buckthorn and Barley, the dog.
Buckthorn Barbers Shop – front entrance
@Rillewen @Pele Alarion

Though their conversing was a drawn out affair, still the day looked a far old distance from the glorious blaze of mid day. So it was that Henley fell to hopping from his one foot to the other. Not this time in pain, but merely to try and retain some heat in his freezing bones. Crossed arms saw their hands run up and down the scrawny Barber’s biceps, to further assure the girl of his impatience. It was far too late to invite the two children inside his shop by this point, for winter had surely trespassed right on in behind him while they delayed upon the porch. He would have to light a fire now that would waste more money he did not have. As Brooke scowled and commenced her recital, Henley cast an eye back to his ‘guard dog’ and sighed for his own part. Warm air escaped his mouth as though it was a stove, set in a snowstorm. Breathing in, his teeth were close to chattering. And only the thought of Claire Willows made any impact upon his mood.


If he had put any real thought to what the woman may know (or care) of his business, Mr Buckthorn may have realised that Claire was intrigued only in so far as he retained a means of making coin … to pay her. He was a stranger to compliments however, and applied those from the letter eagerly to his ‘skill’, without ever troubling over the fact.


As soon as the subject turned from how amazing he was .. to how he should hand over his hard earned money .. the Barber hissed through his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the expectant reader.

“You’re making that part up,” he decided, snatching at the letter which Brooke held still. Ironing the parchment with his eyes did nothing to aid his suspicions, for want does not provide means. Henley could not read any more now than he could moments before, but nonetheless, he was happy to assume that he knew the truth of the matter. “Want me to give you money ?!” The man slapped one thigh with his strongest hand, still holding the piece of paper beyond Brooke’s reach. Unless she fancied to make a jump for it. “You’re a right pair of pint-sized crooks !” he now awarded Aislin guilt too, by sheer allegiance. “I’ve half a mind ter drag the two of yous to the Hill Watch for playing scams ! Git out of here ! Before you damn near ruin my guard dog .. turning him soft as that ! S’me as should demand coin from you ! For damages !”


Barley may not have understood the words that Aislin spoke to him, but he liked the charm of her sweet tone. He also enjoyed the affection which she showered him with. Glancing back toward Henley, the dog gave an attention-seeking bark, to alert his master as to watch, and learn. This was how dogs ought be treated …


His master was rather occupied however. Screwing the letter into a paper ball, Henley pitched it out into the street. The dog immediately ran to fetch it back to his master, unless one of the two girls could retrieve it safely before him. Barley did become distracted after all, sniffing at a rather unsuspicious looking stone. And then relieving himself to wet the cobbles.


“I spread word for Claire, deep into the ear of each and every man as comes into my store,” the barber bawled defensively at the young maids. It seemed perhaps that he had taken a moment to consider if he did in fact owe the woman money and, given his ‘skill’ at cardgames, it seemed rather more likely than he was happy to admit to himself. Which saw the Barber turn on the defensive. “I gets her more takers by sharing the secret of where all can find her cardgames. She should give me commission for my trouble. Or if she wants to ever have me proper tools untangle her sweet mane, that of her child’s maybe .. I’ll do that fer free of naught !”


The negotiations had fallen askance from sense now, as the man grew clearly more indignant. “Don’t you dare come here looking to trick and bamboozle I !” he warned them, shaking one fist at Aislin for she seemed to the Man the more timid of the two, being silent so. "Barley ! Barley ! Come !”

This last was delivered as the man rounded upon on bare heel and stomped back inside. The door slammed to a shut behind him, and the dog (who’d leapt up with great excitement upon hearing his name) was left to scrabble and scratch at the wood until he gave up and lay down upon the stoop.

[Rillewen]

@Pele Alarion @Ercassie

Brooke Willows
Doorstep of Buckthorn Barber's shop

The sudden change in the man's attitude both surprised Brooke, and didn't surprise her, somehow. She had half expected that he would become angry when he understood what she'd just read. Still, despite the fact she was already half expecting him to react in such a way, she was quite startled and alarmed when he snatched the letter from her hand, accusing her of making up the last part. The girl flinched visibly, as if expecting him to strike her as well, hastily retreating a couple of steps back from the door as swiftly as her numb feet would allow her. "N..no, I..." She tried to find the words to defend herself, but knew it would do no good. He was going to believe whatever he wanted to believe. Maybe he would see that it was not Brooke's own addition to the letter, now that he had finally decided to read it for himself... if he could even read.

Shiverig, she hugged her blanket around her shoulders, flinching slightly each time he yelled at her, or at Aislin. She felt very bad for the other girl, being included in with this simply because she was there at the same time as Brooke. "Sh-she's not..." she tried to protest, to defend Aislin, but her timid voice wasn't near loud enough to be heard over Henley's angry one, yelling at the two girls to get out of there. She didn't bother finishing her sentence, and instead backed up a few more steps, even further alarmed when he suggested taking them to thre Hill Watch. Having no interest in trying to reclaim the letter from him, she stumbled slightly overt her own feet as she retreated further. She decided against mentioning to him that there was more yet to be read, however, and watched as he balled it up and threw it at her, which elicited another flinch on her part.

Sliding a little on a patch of ice, Brooke nearly fell down again, but managed to stay upright, barely. 'That explains a lot...' she thought as he spoke of spreading word about Claire's card games. Any sarcastic retorts that she thought of would never be spoken out loud. She was far too afraid of his wrath to think of saying anything that might anger him further.

She had been nervous of the man before ever knocking upon his door, but before he had at least only been a grumpy drunk guy trying to hold himself up in the doorway. How swiftly drunk men fly into a frightful rage, Brooke had experienced from her own father more than she would have wished. Henley now seemed, in her eyes at least, to have turned into a terrifying, menacing villain from one of her books. Reading about such things was quite different from experiencing it in person. He seemed, in her imagination at least, to have transformed into one of the fearsome trolls or orcs from the stories her mother used to tell her, and Brooke backed away yet another step or two as he threatened her, shaking a fist at them both. Or maybe it was just at Aislin, but it was a threatening gesture, just the same, and Brooke saw it as being aimed at her just as much as it was aimed at Aislin.

After the door had slammed shut, Brooke stood frozen to the spot, shaking slightly. Just from cold, she tried to convince herself. With her head bowed slightly, she took several slow and shaky breaths as her throat felt as if it were tightening a bit. She wanted to cry, or rather she felt like she would cry. But she couldn't do that, not in the middle of the street with people(or even just one person) around. She tried to swallow the lump away and stood with her eyes closed for a moment as she forced her breathing to slow to normal the best she could. The fright was over now, the danger gone. She was alright, and so was Aislin. Right now, their worst enemy was cold, and perhaps hunger.

Brooke slowly opened her eyes and made an effort to keep her expression void of emotion. She mustn't let anyone see how she was feeling, and certainly not that she was so near to tears. She let out a shaky breath, which puffed out white in the frosty air. Where did that letter go? Bits and pieces of the words written in the letter flashed into her mind. "Dearest Henley." and "You owe me money." Brooke could only imagine how that would look, should the letter fall into the wrong hands. Most people probably already knew about Claire, but Brooke still would rather not leave that lying around on the street, just waiting to be used to blackmail someone for some reason. It would be best to just reclaim the letter and keep it tucked safely away somewhere, she decided.

And that was when she noticed that the dog had it. Great. Should she leave him to it? He might eat the entire thing. But, then again, he might not. She thought about it for a moment, imagining that he might put up a fight if she were to try and take it. With her hand still a little shaky, keeping an eye on the door lest it should open once more and Henley come flying out to attack her, Brooke ventured closer, and closer, until she was near to the dog. She quietly knelt and began petting him, hoping to distract him away from the ball of parchment. As soon as she was able, she reached over and picked up the letter, then stuffed it into her bag to deal with it later. Giving Barley one last pat, she stood and backed away again.

Now, what? Brooke wrapped herself up the best she could in her blanket, shivering from the cold. She glanced over at Aislin, hesitating. She had no idea what to say to her, but she felt bad that she'd gotten drawn into all that. And she had been the one person Brooke had met who was friendly to her. Now, would shew also shun her? What could she say? The girl probably would want nothing to do with her now. "S..sorry, for...all that." Brooke mumbled, figuring she ought to say that much at least. Now, she had best go on her way so Aislin could be rid of her presence. "I'll... just..go now." She added, her voice hardly audible.

With slumped shoulders, her gaze dropped down onto the snow at her feet as she started to walk. She had so hoped that Aislin might possibly be a potential friend, but there was surely no chance of that now, after all this. How stupid of her, to have thought she might have made a friend. Who would want to be friends with Brooke, knowing the sort of people she's forced to associate with? Brooke couldn't think of anything else to say to the girl, so she might as well get on with her errands. She thought it best to warm up a bit, but she could probably warm up in the store while she got a few supplies to bring back home. That seemed like the best thing to do, so she turned her steps toward the store run by Mr. Tunnely. He was usually pretty nice, and willing to help customers with little money. Hopefully that might take some time, so that she might put off the other, even less pleasant errand Brooke had been demanded to accomplish.

[Pele Alarion]

Aislin
Buckthorn Barber's shop/street

She watched and waited curiously, and eventually the reaction Henley displayed quite matched her expectations. He certainly looked like someone who would not like his money taken away. She smirked a bit, while listening to the accusations he yelled out at them. Placing hands on her hips she was about to respond something to it, but decided that it would be better to hold her tongue rather than have him chase them down the street. When the barber shook his fist at her, Aislin only tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

And tossing that letter away... would he not regret it later? Who knew what else it contained and what people might think if anyone happened to read it. But then again, she would not feel sorry if it had some consequences for him.

She did flinch a bit to the slamming of the doors, and stood watching while Brooke attempted to recover the letter from the dog who had snatched it, and now was left behind the door, poor thing.

It certainly seemed that the encounter had quite shaken the other girl up, and all she had managed to say was a quiet "sorry" before turning to walk away.

"Huh?" Aislin huffed, and then hurried after Brooke. "Brooke!" she called, running up next to the girl and falling in step with her. "Don't let his words get to you. He's just a drunk piece of grump, who apparently holds his money dear, if he has any. Though his dog is sweet..." She attempted to provide some comforting words.

@Rillewen, @Ercassie

[Rillewen]

@Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows

Brooke stopped in her tracks and looked at the other girl, upon hearing the words she had said. She was rather stunned, and not quite how to reply. Thinking upon Aislin's words, Brooke tried to understand why she wasn't shunning her. "I..thought you'd want to stay away from me." She mentioned, quietly. Her gaze stayed down at the ground, and she hugged her blanket around herself a little closer. Why wasn't Aislin walking away from her? Why was she being nice to her? Maybe they were both different from everyone else, she reasoned. Aislin had said that most people yelled at her, so Brooke supposed they had that much in common. Maybe they both had more in common, such as trying to be nice to others when they didn't deserve it.

"Um," She tried to think of what to say, feeling like she ought to say something to let her know she's grateful that she was still talking to her. "Thanks.." Brooke said at last. Shivering, she added, "Um, I have some errands to finish. I'm..supposed to get some things, so I was going to Mr Tunnely's store." She paused, then added, "It should be warm there, if you'd like to come along. He's usually nicer than most." Aislin must be as cold as Brooke, and it occurred to her that she might be able to help the other girl with a little bit of food. She looked rather hungry, but then maybe Brooke was imagining it due to her being in such falling-apart clothing. Brooke offered a small smile before continuing on to the store where she could get some things, glancing back to see if Aislin was following. She was already going over a list in her head of what sort of things she might be able to get with the money Claire had given her while still saving out enough to have a little extra coin, without Claire knowing any different...

Walto Tunnely - Inside Tunnelly's General Goods Store

The inside of Mr Tunnely's store was indeed nice and warm, or at least as warm as it could be, heated by a clay chimenea in the back of the store. Past all the shelves lined with merchandise, Mr Tunnely stood on a step-ladder behind the counter, arranging jars of preserves on a shelf, as high as he could reach.

Brooke was glad for the warmth inside the shop as she walked past some dry goods, stepping around a small portable step-stool and stopped in front of the chimenea, near the counter. There was a few steps up to a platform on which the counter sat, so that hobbit customers(or children of human customers) could step up there and be at the right height to see over the counter, while the non-hobbit customers could see over the counter from the actual floor.

The hobbit store-owner turned to see who had come into his store, and smiled in a warm greeting. "Hello there! C'mon in an' warm up. It sure is cold out there, ain't it?" He climbed down from his ladder, standing behind his counter which was on a platform, making him appear taller. "What can I get for you?"

"Oh, um.." Brooke glanced around the shelves near her, reluctant to move away from the heat source. It occurred to her that she had not actually looked to see how much she had to work with. Pulling out the coins from her pocket, she shivered a little bit from how cold they were, but spread them out in her palm to count them and determine how much she had. After she'd counted her funds, she took a moment to do a bit of adding in her head, remembering the prices of various things she'd bought before and mentally adding up what all she could buy, then told the hobbit her short list of groceries that she wanted. It was quite nice to stay by the nice warm fire while he gathered the things from the various locations in the store. 

[Pele Alarion]

Aislin
Tunnelly's General Goods Store

"Eh, it's not like you've done something wrong. As far as I'm concerned," Aislin had merely responded to Brooke's wonderings. She had just met the other girl, but it surely looked like she was not a spoiled brat or anything of the sort.

At the mention of the store, Aislin decided to follow along. Some warmth certainly would be nice, as she expected to spend the remaining day and night outdoors, perhaps settling down in some wooded corner and setting up a camp - it sounded like a better option than sitting on someone's cold doorstep. At any rate she still had a few treasured possessions, a fire starting kit being one of them.

She followed Brooke into the store, and breathed a sigh of relief at the warmth that met her, and at a friendly welcome from the owner. It seemed like the Hobbits were much more gentle than humans. She smiled shyly and edged closer to the heat source and away from the door to allow other customers entry, should there be any.

She mostly focused on warming herself and did not observe the items displayed on the shelves too much, knowing full well that she could not afford any. Occasionally Aislin observed the store-owner's and Brooke's interactions, enjoying the fact that there was some friendly atmosphere for once.

@Rillewen

[Rillewen]

@Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows
Tunnely's General Goods store

Brooke was quite relieved that Aislin responded the way she did. She was liking the other girl more and more. Which, of course, made Brooke worry more about her. Why was she sleeping on the streets like that? Where did she come from? And what if something bad happened to her? Was there anything Brooke could do to help her? She watched Mr Tunnely gathering a few winter vegetables for her that she had asked for, while breathing in the delicious aroma of roasting chestnuts. The smell only served to remind Brooke that she'd had nothing to eat today... or yesterday. But then she wondered how much longer it had been for Aislin.

Rubbing her hands together a little as she stood in front of the fire, Brooke considered the food available in the store. "Have you ever had any roasted chestnuts?" She asked Aislin, quietly. Brooke had not, though she had smelled them many times and the scent always made her want to try one. "I haven't..." she added thoughtfully. The thought of a little sack of hot chestnuts on a day as cold as this made her want some even more. Though, she had a feeling a bag of nuts wouldn't be very filling, so she debating what else she could afford to buy. It seemed unlikely she would have any extra coin to bring home, but she supposed getting a new book could wait a bit longer.

Turning to Mr Tunnely, she hesitated briefly before coming to a decision. "Sir.. if you could add on a..half a bag of roast chestnuts.. and um, as large a piece of jerky as this can buy.." She added, holding up her last coin. Hopefully it was enough. She decided that she could probably manage to slice off a small piece from the cheese wedge she was getting for home, and Claire wouldn't know the difference.

The shopkeeper nodded and got to work on finding her a suitable piece of jerky. Mr Tunnely hummed to himself as he weighed and measured and selected the items Brooke requested. As he began to measure out a wedge of cheese, Brooke realized that he had a better device for slicing cheese than her knife, and worried that Claire might notice. What if she got in trouble? Was there any way around this? She bit her lip, thinking about it for a moment, then spoke up again. "Sir.. if it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you slice off a little bit of that? I- I'd like to give a little to my friend here." She explained, a bit shy to admit her plan but she felt more awkward making such an odd request without explanation.

"Oh, certainly!" Mr Tunnely nodded and complied with her request. He wrapped up the main wedge and added that to the other items Brooke was purchasing. The small piece he'd trimmed off he laid on a paper and brought that to Brooke. "The jerky too?" he asked.

She nodded and turned to Aislin, a little shy. "I wish I could help you more, but.. I haven't got very much to spare." She told her apologetically, feeling bad she could only give her a slice off of the cheese, and a half bag of the chestnuts, but that should still be enough to warm her hands, Brooke figured. Once Mr Tunnely had scooped the nuts into the bag for them, she noticed he'd added a little more than half. Somewhat surprised, she took the bag he handed her, rather unsure what to say. She eventually managed a quiet thank you, and then turned to Aislin. "I um, I thought I'd have just a few, but you can have all the rest." She told her, hoping Aislin would be alright with sharing a few of them.

[Pele Alarion]

Aislin
Tunnelly's General Goods Store

The warmth felt so good for a change, and Aislin thought that it had been a long while when she had felt so warm, and also had had any people to talk with who did not just shoo her away as some sort of nuisance. Only that delicious smell of chestnuts... It made her aware of her growling belly which she had learned to ignore, since she was not always successful at catching anything in her traps, and especially she was not too lucky at finding odd chores to do to earn a bit of coin.

"No... I haven't had any chestnuts, maybe such a long time ago that I don't remember any more," she responded quietly to Brooke and was glad that they were similar in this, though it was nothing to boast of.

Then she had drifted off into her own thoughts somewhere, not paying attention to what was going on in the shop, so she was rather surprised to find that Brooke had bought some food for her.

"But... you didn't have to," she stammered, blushing. "Especially if you need it for yourself." However, she did not wish to offend the other girl by rejecting the gifts that were given from a generous heart, so she accepted the delicious offering and smiled shyly. "Thank you."

The bag of chestnuts felt so nice and warm in her hands, and the scent was heavenly, she breathed it in with half-closed eyes and then extended the bag towards Brooke. "Of course, take as many as you want! You did buy them after all, and they must be too delicious for you to only take a couple of 'em."

@Rillewen

[Rillewen]

@Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows
Tunnely's General Goods store

Brooke smiled a little to see Aislin looking so happy. She shrugged a bit in reply to her. "I know I didn't have to. But you seem... hungry. I wish I could help you more.." She sighed softly, hesitating. "I do have an old dress I've likely outgrown, if you think you could use it?" She mentioned, taking one of the chestnuts. She tried not to let it burn her fingers as she pried it open. Hopefully she was doing this right. She usually ended up doing stuff wrong but this seemed simple enough.. they were cut with an X to make peeling easier.

She wished she could offer her a safe and warm place to sleep at night. But, since Brooke didn't really consider her house safe at all, she wasn't about to offer it. It wasn't warm there, anyway, with her window busted out like it was. She waved off her mention of needing food herself. She'd get food sooner or later at home. If she ever finished her errands. "No need to worry about me." She added quietly. "I do have to get these things home though," She nodded toward the groceries that Mr Tunnely was packaging up for her. "I..um, my stepmother will give me something once I've finished running her errands.." Hopefully, anyway. They would surely at least save her a little supper, right?

Speaking of her errands, she wondered how long she could put it off. Taking another of the delicious nuts from the bag, Brooke peeled it open a bit more easily than the last one. They did help to warm a person's fingers up, so that was nice. She was reluctant to leave and go back out into the cold, but she knew she should really get her jobs done. But... she didn't want to. And after the frightening end to the letter delivery to Henley, she didn't want to go anywhere near where Sully lived. She shivered a bit at the thought of it and decided that it wouldn't hurt anything if she stayed in the store a little bit longer.

"Those are for you, too." She told Aislin, making sure she didn't overlook the jerky and cheese. It wasn't much, but was sure to be better than nothing for a girl who was hungry. "I suppose I should go bring these things home and.. if you'd like to have the dress I mentioned, I could bring it back here for you." She mentioned, thoughtful. She made no move to leave the warmth from the fire, however, at least not yet.

[Pele Alarion]

Aislin
Tunnely's General Goods Store

The bag of nuts felt very good in her hands, and Aislin simply held it close to herself to gather as much warmth as possible, while breathing in the delicious scent. It made her stomach growl though, so she followed Brooke's example and picked one of the chestnuts, carefully working on it and popping it in her mouth.

"Mmm..." she murmured contentedly, as she enjoyed the flavour of the chestnut, before she answered to the offer of the dress. "If you are sure you don't need that dress yourself..."

Aislin was happy and grateful to find that Brooke helped her, but she wondered of how she could get through the winter without relying on her help too much. Cold weather and scarcity of edible items to be found in the wild definitely made it hard, and at times she felt that she might not survive another day, though luckily she had managed this far.

"What else are you tasked with today?" she asked the other girl. It seemed that she was sent out to do things without too much food as well, though she at least had a home and at least some sort of sustenance. "Looks like they use you as some sort of messenger and what not," she observed while picking another chestnut from the bag.

@Rillewen

[Rillewen]

@Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows
Tunnely's General Goods store

"Is there anything else you ladies need?" Mr Tunnely asked, cheery but not wanting to neglect any futher needs of the customers.

"Oh.. uh, no sir." Brooke replied. She finished one more chestnut before she gathered up her parcels, trying to make sure she would not drop anything. As she wasn't able to buy a tremendous amount of goods, it wasn't very difficult. She considered the reply that Aislin had made. "I..I'm sure. It doesn't quite fit me anymore." She said, shrugging. "I don't really need it, so.. I'd rather you had it, than it be torn up into rags or something." She shrugged and then used one hand to wrap her blanket back around her shoulders, hesitating at the other question.

She debated how much to tell Aislin. She felt torn between asking her to come along to have a sort of 'backup' in case she ran into danger, or telling her to stay far away from where Brooke must go, because she knew it was a dangerous place to go. But she decided that, in the interest of hopefully keeping Aislin safe, she would rather the other girl did not come along even though it would be nice to have friendly company. "I have to bring these things back..home." She explained. "Then.. I think the only other thing left is to deliver a letter. Except I.. I think I may get out of that. Either way, I'll bring you the dress here first.. you can stay in here where it's warm, as long as Mr Tunnely doesn't mind.." She glanced at the hobbit storekeeper, then back at Aislin. "I'll be back." She told her, then hurried out before she could change her mind.

Walto, who had gone back to busily arranging some of the jars and things behind the counter, seemed to be having trouble reaching the upper shelves even with the small step ladder he had. He sighed and looked around for some solution to this problem before his gaze landed on the young human girl and an idea occurred to him. "You there, miss.. d'you think you might be able to reach them top shelves up there?" he questioned her, glancing Aislin over as if trying to decide if she were sufficiently taller than himself. "I'm having a bit of trouble, y'see, and I need to get all these here preserves stocked up on the shelves."

[Pele Alarion]

Aislin
Tunnely's General Goods Store

Aislin nodded at Brooke and popped another chestnut in her mouth. It had been long since she had such a delicacy, so she took her sweet time in savouring each one. Even though she would not mind following Brooke, she wondered if the other girl did not want to have such a beggar go along with her - who knew perhaps her bedraggled appearance was the cause they had received poor treatment when the first letter was delivered?

She looked after Brooke, as far as she could see through the window and hesitated by the fire, wondering if the shopkeeper would not mind her being here. And it seemed that perhaps he would not.

"I am called Aislin, sir," she responded rather happily, when the Hobbit addressed her. "I would gladly help you to put those things away." She would indeed rather make herself useful instead of just standing there and taking up place.

She figured she could be of help, judging that she was indeed taller than the shopkeeper, though perhaps not to such measure that she would be able to tuck him under her arm.

"Let me see if I can reach the top," she suggested lightly, placing her edible treasures on the counter and carefully climbing up the small ladder. Reaching up her hand from the top step she found that her fingers could barely reach the top shelf, perhaps just enough to shove some items on it.

@Rillewen

[Rillewen]

@Pele Alarion

Walto Tunnely
Tunnely's General Goods store

Walto stood back while the girl went about climbing the ladder to accomplish the task for him. "Oh thank you kindly, miss Aislin." He beamed happily as he passed her the jars to put away. She could reach that shelf that he couldn't. He never had been able to reach it, and therefore, was never able to properly utilize that shelf. "You know I really ought to get a taller ladder, I s'pose, or put that shelf a bit lower, but I've always been rather nervous of heights, you see. I can't ever reach that shelf, but I'm plum out of space anywhere else and my wife's just done up all these preserves and expects me to sell the lot of them, but how can I sell them if I haven't anywhere to display them?" He threw his hands up with a sigh.

He continued passing her the jars and was pleased to watch the shelf fill up with them. He would, of course, have trouble getting them down if a customer wanted to buy one, but maybe he could find a Tall person to help him when that time came. Eventually, there was only one jar left, but the shelf looked full. "Hm, this last one here, don't look like it'll fit up there will it?" He commented. "That's alright, I reckon one won't make too much difference." He looked thoughtfully at the jar and then offered it to her.

"You done me a real big favor, so here, you take it and I hope you enjoy it." He told her with a warm smile. "A person oughta get paid for doing work, after all. I suppose that ain't hardly enough, anyway." He went to his money drawer and took out a couple coins, which he offered to her as well. "There you are, and I'll tell you, if'n you ever want to earn a bit more, you come check back here and see if maybe I have any work for you." He suggested. Usually his family were the only ones who helped with the store, but there were certainly some jobs that were better suited for Tall folks, and not Hobbits.

Willows Residence

Having left the shop, Brooke hurried through the snow. Her toes were threatening to become numb with cold, and she wanted to go from one warm place to another somewhat warm place as quickly as possible. She let herself in through the front door, carrying her basket of groceries. Claire probably wouldn't be happy with the meager amount of food she had brought home, but it was wintertime so she could hardly expect to have fresh vegetables and such.
Her own stomach grumbling with hunger, Brooke quickly put away the things in the pantry and hoped to take a bowl of the stew that was cooking on the stove. The smell was rather tantalizing, not that Claire was such a good cook but just because of the fact that Brooke hadn't eaten in so long. She went over to peer into the pot, wondering where the meat for it had come from.
"That isn't done yet, back off." Claire snapped, making Brooke jump away from the pot. She looked up at her stepmother, backing away a bit nervously. "Have you done all your errands?" The woman frowned at Brooke.
"I.. um... yes..."
"Really?" Claire put her hands on her hips. "Well?"
Biting her lip, Brooke edged for the door. "Well.. what?" She wondered.
"Why are you so stupid? Did Henley give you anything?" She asked slowly, as if to ensure Brooke understood the words.
Fidgeting, Brooke shook her head. "N-no, and um.. he didn't seem to..like your message..." she offered back the wadded up, sobered-on letter.
"Well, he'll get over it." Claire narrowed her eyes, snatching the other, unopened letter from her open bag. "You still haven't delivered Sully's letter? What are you doing standing around here! Get going girl!" She raised a spoon in her hand that was meant for stirring the stew.
Brooke quickly retreated, flinching. "No... I'm..I won't, I refuse to go there." She informed her stepmother, trying to feel defiant and strong, though she really didn't feel that way.
Claire glared for a moment, then grabbed her and shoved her. "You'll do what I tell you, if you want anything to eat tonight! Now get going!"
Stumbling, Brooke fell to the floor, wincing. Despite that, she shook her head again. "Th-there's nothing you can do.. or say.. to make me go there...I won't do it. "
Claire tried to yank her up from the floor, then noticed a book slipping out of Brooke's bag, and grabbed it instead. "Oh, really?" She smirked.
Alarmed, Brooke scrabbled up and tried to snatch it back, but without success. "No.. give it back..." the girl pleaded.
Claire smiled and pushed her away. "No.. not until you've finished that errand. Do that, and I'll give it back."
Brooke stared at her, then at the book, one that had belonged to her mother. Her most precious belonging was being held captive, and she didn't trust Claire at all with it. "Please..." she whispered.
"Take that letter out to him now.. or unless you want it too become firewood." Claire threatened, holding the book toward the fire.
"No! Don't, please.."
"I will unless you deliver that letter.."
Brooke hesitated, then hurried out the door, wondering why Claire had to find the one thing that could give her such power over her. After a few steps, she stopped once she was outside, remembering her promise to Aislin, and hesitated. She had to get Aislin that dress, and before she went to Sully. She might not ever come back once she went out there, because she didn't know what would happen there. She took a deep, shaky breath, then went around to the back of the house and climbed in through her broken window.

The dress was tucked away in a drawer in the dresser, among a few other the books that her mother had left behind, though these weren't nearly as dear to her as the one Claire was holding hostage. Fighting back tears, Brooke took the folded dress and tucked it under her arm before climbing back out. Then she retraced her steps back to Mr Tunnelly's store with a heavy heart. She hoped the other girl would still be there. She tentatively stepped in and took a glance around to look for Aislin.

[Pele Alarion]

Aislin
Tunnely's General Goods store

The girl could see that the shelves up here had not been used; there was a layer of dust covering the whole surface, and she made an effort to brush it off with her sleeve, as far as she could reach. "Ah, Mr Tunnely, it is a fine view from up here, though," Aislin responded with a smile to his apprehension of heights, as she reached for the next jar. "And this is not awfully high, except it could be a bit of tumble downwards anyway, if the ladder moved or something."

When the shopkeeper was left with the last jar, the girl glanced over the neat rows of jars, wondering if she could reorganise everything to fit it in somewhere. But when the Hobbit did not seem too worried of not being able to put the jar up there, Aislin climbed down to find the jar being handed to her.

"Thank you so much," she blushed at the recognition, and the idea of having a bit of proper food perhaps for the next day or two. The coins she slipped into the small secret pocket that she had for valuables, though she had long spent all of those.

"I would gladly help you with anything you might need me for, Mr Tunnely!" she exclaimed, and made a decision to look in here now and then; even if there was no work, the kind attitude warmed her heart, and she was willing to come only for that. After all one got tired of loneliness and being frowned and yelled at as an unwelcome beggar.

She returned to her little collection of supplies and tasted a little bit of cheese, thinking if she should finally leave; after all it would not do to make the shop her home. Just as she was to collect her belongings and leave, Brooke returned.

"Do you still need a companion for any errands?" she asked, approaching the girl.

@Rillewen

[Rillewen]

@Pele Alarion

Brooke Willows
Tunnely's General Goods store

Did she need a companion for any further errands? Brooke was caught off guard by this question, and hesitated. She did want company. It was tiring to be lonely all the time. But did she dare put Aislin in danger? Mr Buckthorn had seemed dangerous, but Brooke felt sure that he was nothing compared to Mr Spruce. And if Claire’s letter to him was anything like the one to Mr Buckthorn, then Brooke was going to be in trouble. She did not want to go, but nor could she defy her stepmother when her book was in danger of fire. Still, she couldn’t ask the other girl to come. Yet, at the same time, she didn’t want Aislin to think that Brooke didn’t want her company.

“Um.. no, it-it’s...difficult,” Brooke tried to explain, awkward. “I can’t, I mean…” she sighed. “You’d be better off to stay here. It’s a long way, and.. Well..” What could she say? “The person I have to see is worse than Mr Buckthorn.” The flat-out truth had always been her default. “It’s better if you don’t get involved.” Did that sound like she was being stand-offish? She didn’t mean for it to, but she didn’t know what else to say. Looking down, she remembered the dress folded up in her arms, and held it out to Aislin. "I.. here, if you still want it." She felt like she'd just ruined her chances of friendship, but hoped the dress would help Aislin, at least a little.

Sighing, with her head down, Brooke left the shop and set off down the road, blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She had told her the truth, but she didn’t know if Aislin would believe her. More than likely, the other girl would be offended and decide that Brooke didn’t want anything to do with her. Good job, Brooke. She sighed heavily and fought tears as she hurried on her way. Whether Aislin stayed in the warm shop or followed her, Brooke didn’t know. She didn’t look back and she was focused on not slipping on the ice, her mind whirling with all the thoughts that flooded her mind.


@Tharmáras I've got a guy you can add to the Hill Watch; Peter Lark

[Ercassie]

Amos ‘Mossy’ and Prudence ‘Prue’ Dogwood
Their son Clayton, and lodger, Dessy Hart

Dogwood living quarters,
above ‘Sole Mates’ Shoeshop

A crack and sputter encouraged one brown eye to dare spy it’s source. The warmth and comfort rousing the young Breeman in a dilemma of irony, for there was only one means to so heat the modest room. There was only one fireplace and it had been quite bereft of wood when Clay had set to sleep. The absence had been so noted that it was the last thought which his conscious mind had managed. In the morrow, he would have to go and gather firewood. And yet .. caught in the bleary realm that exists atween sleep and wake, Clayton Dogwood rubbed his eyes to better judge the mystery. An elderly man was stoking at the humble blaze with a sense of calm satisfaction.

“You didn’t go out in this weather and fetch up them logs,” The question was directed as a disappointment, evident in the youth’s tone. His father carefully withdrew from where he’d balanced now a kettle over the hot flower.

“I didn’t, at that,” Mossy Dogwood agreed, which did not seem to have the desired effect.

“Ah good. Wait now. What ?!” Clay edged out of his blanket and righted the old chair he’d slept on. His mother chuckled like an amused hen as she patted the youth’s arm.

“As if I’d let him,” Prue kissed her husband on his brow, and shook her head at her two favourite men. Her grey curls bounced like a blanket of sausages about her rosy face. “We had a visitor last night,” she clarified, indicating the young girl who was tying the laces of her boots.

“Your mysterious pa,” Clay guessed, even as Dessy ducked her head and hid a small smile. “How long’s he staying this time ?”

“He’s already gone,” the girl mentioned, with a slight drop of her shoulders. Hastily she found distraction, gathering up four mugs from a low dresser.

“Leave mine,” she was bid, as Clay raced haphazard between the washbowl and the closets. Half dressed by this point in some fresh laundry he had swiped straight from the chair, the young man heaved a heavy fawn shirt down over his head, and shook his hair into some sort of place. “I’ve to look at that leak out at the tenancy today ...”

“You’ll take some vittles with you,” his mother fussed, and received a swift squeeze in embrace for her concerns. “Clay !”

“Don’t fret ma. I’ll see to it,” he waved off his mother’s stern look, and fell through the door. Dessy glanced up in concern even as the Dogwoods clasped each other and admired their legacy, setting off down the steps into the cold white ice of the street below. He paused a moment in this, swallowing the lie he had just told his loving family. It was taking every day that he could spare off work, and after work, and before work, to fix up the house he wanted to set in with Amber. But if he needed a walk and that walk happened to take him close to Archet … well. It was his day off. Who could honestly tell him no ?

*******

“He ought to have took some vittles,” Prue sighed, for at least the fifth time over her porridge. Dessy and Mossy knew better than to argue and had run out of ways to console the woman since her son went out to work.

“He’ll be saving room for that delicious pumpkin pie you gone and promised him, for supper,” Mossy wiped his silvery moustache for any errant porridge he had missed, and dropped where he sat to spit and polish up his boots. The women cleared the table, each falling to their daily routine. “He’ll be missing that one when he’m wed.”

“Well, he’ll just have to come by and visit, to make sure he don’t forget how well his mother bakes then, won’t he ?” Prue outlined her master plan absentmindedly.

“You could share the recipe with Berry,” Dessy failed to observe the look of horror upon Mrs Dogwood’s face until it was too late to retract the suggestion. “I only meant ..”

“That young gel’s gonna have both hands full with her young ‘un, if I know a thing about it,” the old woman sniffed. “Don’t you go getting shoe scuff all over my table, neither, Amos Dogwood !”


The sentiment was not cruelly made, and indeed a cover for old Mrs Dogwood’s emotion. Her son leaving home was a heartbreak that she took one tiny realisation at a time. The fact that Clay had been doing up the tenant home less than ten minutes away was little comfort. Even pointing out that a new young baby crying all the night was something no old couple ought wish for their home did not comfort Prue. She had already warned them that they’d sure hear the infant mewling all up the street. But thankfully the babe was not due until the same time as summer. There was much to occupy them all until then, fitting in a wedding for one thing, before Cal Finch blew the top of his head off ! Still, keeping busy had never seemed so appealing, and necessary.


“None’s gonna buy shoes from a man as hasn’t got the best shoes to be seen” Mossy recited his mantra, and the two women near joined in, so often did he tell them so. In response to his wife’s warning, every and each morning in fact. There was a pattern to things in the Dogwood house, and Dessy had become slowly accustomed to their ways. You could almost tell time by their morning routine.


“Blow me down, he’s gone and forgotten his vittles as well !” Prue lamented, but minutes after she had kissed her husband off as well. “What am I to do with these men ?!” she laughed nervously, caressing the little basket she had lovingly prepared.

“Allow me,” Dessy offered, responding to her now assumed prompt. “I'll take it down to him and I can fetch a pumpkin from the grocers then for that pie.”

“You’re a blessing,” she was informed, and still smiling opened the door.

“And you’ve company ..” the girl declared, spying a familiar face heading up from down the road of them.

Leaving Prue to greet her friend, Dessy clutched the basket of lunch for the cobbler as she manouvred the steps, ducked her head in a polite passing to the Farmer’s wife, and then ducked in the front door of the shoe shop on street level.

[Rillewen]

Lauryl, Logan and Liana Woods, with Maggy Winters, Autumn and Wesley Rose, and Gilbert and Rosemary Roebuck


Along the road from Combe to Bree

"Ugh!" Autumn squealed. "Gramma! Gilbert just put snow down my back!" She complained, squirming in the back of the wagon that Logan was driving.

Lauryl was seated in the middle between Logan and Liana with Rosemary held in her lap. She turned around and gave the boy a stern look. "Gilbert Roebuck, you better behave yourself. Now apologize to your cousin." She ordered him.

Six-year-old Gilbert tried not to giggle at the squirming that Autumn was doing, and tried to look more serious when his grandmother got involved. He turned to Autumn. "Sorry Autumn. I won't do it again." He said with a heavy sigh. The apology earned a 'hmph' from ten-year-old Autumn, who did not consider it very genuine.

"That's better. We will be in town soon, and I expect you all to be on your best behavior." Lauryl said, with a look at all of the kids but resting her gaze particularly upon mischievous little Gilbert. Wesley sat quietly in his place, looking innocent and sweet. Lauryl had no idea whether he had been involved in the snow incident but he usually wasn't involved in mischief unless his cousin dragged him into it. She turned back around and tucked the blanket in closer around little Rosemary, who snuggled closer in her lap.

"We could drop them all off right here and make them walk the rest of the way to town." Logan suggested teasingly, acting like he was actually going to reign in the horse.

"No! I don't wanna walk, my shoes are breaking." Autumn spoke up quickly. "Don't make us walk, uncle Logan!" She pleaded. "And Maggy's shoes are worse." She added, defending her best friend. "They got holes in them, her feet would freeze."

"I could walk if I had to..." Maggy spoke up quietly,embarrassed, and having done so plenty of times before. "I'd rather not though." She added with a giggle. Autumn's family was funny and she liked them, but she hoped her daddy would be coming back soon. He had been gone entirely too long, and while she was glad for Autumn's family trying to help her get by until he returned, she just wanted him to be home.

Liana giggled softly at the kids' reaction to Logan's idle threat. She was sat, with a basketful of yarn in her lap, on the other side of her mother from Logan. "I suppose we can give them a second chance." She looked back at the young boys and girls in the back of the wagon. "You'll all be good, won't you?" She asked them, and was answered hastily by them all, "Yes!" Satisfied, Liana looked across their mother at her brother. "I think we can continue the ride into town, now." She told him, playing along with his teasing.

"Good, now all hands and feet are to be kept inside the wagon at all times." Logan announced. "We will be arriving approximately... soon." He said, as he had no idea how many minutes it would actually take. The snow and ice on the road was making it a bit hard for the wagon to move, and the horse could have been better off with another horse to help pull the load.

Bree, late morning

The wagon rolled into the town to find not that many folks seemed to be out and about. Still, surely the places of business would be open. Logan stopped the wagon near the cobbler shop. "I could drive you on to the shop if you like, Momma." He offered.

"No, thank you Logan. I'll be fine. The walk will do me some good, I'm sure, and besides, I'd like to visit with Prue first." Lauryl smiled and patted her only son's cheek. He was always so thoughtful.. she couldn't imagine what she'd do if she were to lose him. "I imagine she haven't got out as often as she might like to, it's been so cold." She added.

"Alright." He hopped down and then held up a hand to help the ladies down, beginning with his mother, who set Rosemary aside into Liana's care. Once his mother was safely on the road, he took the basket of yarn from Liana and passed it to their mother. "I'll walk you to the shop when you're ready, if you like. It's rather icy out." He told her.

"I'll be alright, thank you dear." Lauryl smiled and wrapped her cloak better around herself, taking the basket under one arm. She looked at the kids again. "You all be on your best behavior now, remember." She reminded them, before setting off toward the steps leading up to the cobbler's living quarters to visit with Mrs Dogwood, bringing a basketful of yarns she thought the other woman may want to have the first chance to buy.

After watching for a moment as his mother departed, Logan turned to help Liana down from the wagon, then passed Rosemary down to her. By this time, the other kids had scrambled down from the wagon, needing no help. "Alright, let's go." He grabbed the basket with woolen things that they thought Mr Dogwood may want to use in his shoemaking business, and then the troop of kids headed for the cobbler shop.

Sole Mates Shoeshop

Logan hurried to arrive at the door first and, as he had been taught to be gentlemanly, opened the door for his sister and the kids. He hoped, perhaps, the two young boys would observe and learn how to act. Still, they were rather young so maybe he was expecting too much from them at this age. He didn't really remember what he was like when he was six or seven years old.

"Thank you Logan." Liana smiled at her brother as she went inside with her littlest niece wrapped in her cloak, held against her side. She glanced back to make sure the other kids were following, then went to speak to Mossy to see about shoes for the whole group.

Autumn and Maggy were following Liana, but then Gilbert hurried in ahead of them, nearly knocking the two girls down as he pushed his way past them, nearly knocking the protesting girls down, while Wesley stood quietly back behind the girls, waiting for the doorway to clear.

"Gilbert," Logan spoke sharply, his tone catching the little boy in his tracks. "Ladies first, get back here and apologize." He reminded him.

"Oops," Gilbert came back just long enough to say, "Sorry!" to the girls before running back inside to get out of the cold, and have a thorough look around the shop.

"Don't run..." Sighing, Logan shook his head and made sure the door closed after they were all inside. He tried to keep an eye on all the kids, knowing Liana was doing the same. The two were pretty used to this sort of thing, having had a few years' experience tending sheep. Though, even the most troublesome sheep weren't anywhere near as likely to run off and cause mischief as Gilbert...

"Hello Mr Dogwood," Liana greeted the cobbler, holding onto Rosemary's hand. That was one child who wasn't going to get into trouble, she would make sure of that. "I apologize if we might overwhelm you, coming in all at once, but we are all in need of new shoes." She explained with a smile. "Do you have the time to help us?"

"We also have some wool and things Momma said you might be interested in, perhaps arranging a trade of sorts?" Logan added, setting the basket of said woolen things down so the cobbler could see what they had brought. "And how are you today, sir?" He asked, remembering his manners.

@Ercassie

[Ercassie]

Amos ‘Mossy’ Dogwood
Sole Mates Shoe Shop, with the Woods Family
@Rillewen

The invasion commenced in a disarmingly subtle manner, and Mossy scarcely glanced up at the first set of feet wandered through his door. The second, leading to a third and then a fourth and so on .. more so gathered his attention, and the elderly gentleman actually sat back in his seat to observe whether all of Breetown were about his front porch all at once ! It was though merely the one clan, and not all of even them, whom he recognised collectively. The Woods, and certainly it seemed there were so many children now about the room as there are trees amidst a forest.

“Well now,” Mr Dogwood ran his cap up in one hand, brushing over his silvered hair with the other. Mentally he counted quite how many customers had come. Liana served up her explanation, even as her brother herded their group to find manners, or remember them. Such was oft the case, that a group’s behaviour was more unruly the more that they comprised. Still, the elder pair seemed rather practiced in their trial.

Not especially forward in making voice, Mossy nodded his assent, hoping that his folded features did not rightly convey quite how nervous he was to be so outnumbered. “Good good morning, yes” he managed to barely expand upon his earlier remark, in response to all the many greetings and niceties hurled his way. “Who would like to be first ?” he dared breathe aloud, and prayed a war would not ensue. The offer of a trade or exchange appealed to him more than coin, for use was made of far more things. But in order to consider what Logan had brought, he would somehow have to distract all the others of the family here that were vying for his attention. A man only had two hands. It was women, so his wife told him, who were better at multi-tasking.

Dessy Hart with Coleman Finch
‘Sole Mates’ Shoe shop

There was a length of time when awkward silence verged on nigh unbearable, and both of the young people were all too aware of their vexing dilemma. Ever since Clay had convinced Dessy to write a birthday card for Cole, there had been some expectation, as though it might have meant something more than ever had been intended. In truth, the shy farmer’s son had never received any cards from any female outside his family. His best friend had sought only to amend this situation in an effort to build up Cole’s confidence. Dessy couldn’t think of any reason why she ought not to oblige the favour, until it was too late to retract it. The fact of their respective best friends now getting wed and having a baby together, only had exacerbated the pressure on the single remains of their quartet.

It wasn’t that she could find any reason to dislike Cole. He was thoughtful, polite, and no Orc to look upon. He didn’t carry the same confidence as Clay, but Dessy didn’t mind that either, for it was nice to get a word in edgeways. What she did mind was the fact that all who knew the four thought automatically now that she and Cole should partner up. It would be a neat little conclusion, if entirely unrealistic, to assume that anyone should settle for just the most convenient partner. Dessy wasn’t especially sure that she desired any partner, at least not yet. But to express this without hurting Cole’s feelings, particularly when it seemed as though her card had encouraged him in the first … it was rather uncomfortable whenever the two found themselves alone together. Really she had only caught his eye as she made to gift Mossy’s forgotten lunch basket. Now though, she was trapped. He was come to town on his delivery run from the family's dairy farm out in Combe.


“Lots of deliveries today,” the girl could think of naught more substantial than state the obvious.

“Yes, you’re right,” Cole Finch tried to look busy, and failed miserably. “Did you want .. ?”

“Oh no, that’s ..”

“Oh,”

“There’s nothing wrong with … I mean, I do admire … milk … as much as the next .. hmm .. yes .. well.”

“I’ve some spare ?”

“Oh, that’s .. Thankyou. That is most kind of you.”

“Its my job,”

“Yes, well, good. I mean thank you. I already did say that. But thank you. Once again. And .. thank you.”




Falling through the door of the shop, Dessy fled from one predicament and stumbled into another. She raised up her basket in one hand, a bottle of milk in the other, even while blushing and sidestepping several small children. There was no need to explain, for Mossy’s flattened smile spoke of much relief to see the girl. Forgotten vittles was now a bonus. But far more so was the pair of helping hands, a pair whom he knew as good as family his own now.

“You look like you might properly wake ‘Ole Hoss’ up,” she suggested, grasping to aid Gilbert into the large rocking horse which had seen countless children find distraction. The most rambunctious thus waylaid, Dessy waved Logan to bring Wesley for first measures. “There’s some fine pretty new styles over by the window, if you girls want to have a look ?” she suggested, calmly to Autumn and Maggy. “Do you want to come and look as well ?” she offered, hands placed on her thighs to lean down and rightly face Rosemary. “You two never take a day off from herding ?” she shook her head, amused but amiable toward Logan and Liana as she returned to her full height.

Just when everything seemed to be set for place, a round bellied ginger cat clambered rather importantly out of the lunch basket, spilling what crumbs were left across the floor with a disdainful kick.

“Conkers !” Dessy’s cry was uttered with equal parts surprise and annoyance, which the cat ignored, and started sidling around Liana’s legs. Cole, who had loitered to glance through the shop window, for several minutes now, could not help but shake his head, quite entertained.

[Rillewen]

Logan and Liana Woods, with Maggy Winters, Autumn and Wesley Rose, and Gilbert and Rosemary Roebuck

Sole Mates Shoeshop

The arrival of Dessy caused much relief for Liana and Logan, and none too soon. Liana was about to scold Gilbert for his attempts are running laps around the inside perimeter of the shoe shop, and now sighed in relief as Dessy put him up on the rocking horse to distract him. Gilbert happily rocked on the horse, whooping and hollering joyfully as if to make the horse gallop faster. He was soon immersed in a high speed chase of bandits or goblins or something of the sort, making the poor rocking horse gallop at full speed.

Glancing toward his cousin, Wesley felt a twinge of jealousy, but he stood still and waited to be told where to go. But, when he saw the signal that he go first, the boy hung back and looked askance at his uncle Logan, who seemed a bit preoccupied with watching the girl who had awakened 'Ole Hoss' for Gilbert. He wasn't sure why his uncle Logan had such a funny grin on his face, but he didn't seem to be paying attention to Wesley. The boy looked up at the old cobbler with a sincere gaze. "My daddy says ladies are always to go first." he told Mossy, solemly. "Do you think.. maybe.. Ole Hoss could carry me and Gilbert both?" he added with a hopeful glance toward his more rambunctious cousin.

The announcement about the new, pretty shoes in the window brought soft squeals of excitement from the girls. "Oooh!" Maggy and Autumn hurried to investigate the shoe styles they were told about. Autumn turned and waved to Rosemary to join them. "Come on Rosie, come look at the shoes with us." She said with a smile, helping her little cousin to come and look at the nice shoes.

Meanwhile, Logan had fallen almost into a sort of daze as soon as Dessy arrived, and he watched her with a bit of admiration as she successfully went about giving the kids some form of entertainment, and thus did a better job of keeping them from mischief than himself and Liana had been able to do thus far. "Oh, uh.." He was a bit caught off guard when she spoke to him, but grinned, and gave a small laugh at her question. "Yeah, I guess we don't.." he agreed, though with a slight nervousness he didn't usually have. It couldn't have anything to do with the presence of the pretty girl, surely. He didn't notice his sister rolling her eyes, though, as he was a bit too focused on the other girl. Glancing around at the new commotion, he was surprised to see the cat emerge from the basket. But Liana didn't seem the least bothered. Of course not, she loved animals. It didn't surprise Logan one bit to see his sister smile widely and then kneel down to shower the cat in affection.

"Oooh, you're such a pretty cat, aren't you?" Liana smiled, scratching under the cat's chin. She petted him, cooing over how soft his fur is, admiring the color of his coat, and sympathizing over how cold it was outside so of course he would want to come inside where it's warm. She would happily spend the next few hours giving the cat all her attention and all the pets and scratches he could possibly hope for, but she remembered the business at hand, and eventually stood up once again, hearing Wesley's statement that ladies ought to go first. She gave a small smile to her little nephew. "Let's have Maggy go first then, shall we?" She suggested. "She was hoping to be on her way, anyway." She mentioned. "I think she had something she was planning to help Clay with." She added.

Hearing this, Maggy eagerly hurried over, beaming. "Yes, please. I don't want to neglect going to help Clay! I think his roof needs fixing." She said eagerly, as, now off the hook of having to go first, Wesley moved off to watch Gilbert on the rocking horse, hoping for his own turn.

As things began to calm down, Logan drifted over to supervise the little boys on the rocking horse, though he kept glancing over to check if perhaps Dessy might need any assistance, while Liana moved toward the area of the window to keep a watchful eye on the girls, figuring that surely, Mossy and Dessy could handle one kid.

@Ercassie

[Ercassie]

Dessy 'Hart' and Amos 'Mossy' Dogwood
'Solemates' Shoe-shop, Breetown
@Rillewen

Mossy had always stood by his wife's dream to have a lovely big family, and be surrounded by children and grandchildren. The lively throng from Combe were plain on why he was now getting too old to cope with so many, and ought be contented with his lot. They were a nice bunch of course, for a visit … The old man's face creased in all of the right places as his workshop became a nest of laughter and smiles and excitement. He exchanged a glance with Dessy as she gathered up what was left of the vittles' basket, taking full advantage of Liana's love for animals to distract Conkers the cat. The girl was able to salvage some of the food before Liana returned her attention to Autumn and Rosemary at the display stacks. Conkers vowed right there and then that he could still be the showpiece of the shop. Leaping up upon the nearest shelf, he strode along with his tail high in the air, sending a series of shoes down to the ground as he marched past and cared not at all for their getting in his way.

"Oh Conkers !" The Ranger's daughter sighed and could not say quite why Logan seemed so tangled all about his words, but that it must be a tendency of boys. Cole was usually no better in this regard from her experience and, in fact the only boy that she knew who never stopped talking was Clay. Technically she ought to think of them all as young men though, at least compared to little Wesley and Gilbert. But even of those tiny two, each was a distinct contrast as well. Gilbert looked near ready to fly through the window on the rocking horse, while Wesley hung back from his measurements, to be a little gentleman.


"Hmm," she catered to the thoughtful proposal of Wesley. "I think it would be more fun to have the horse all to yourself, in just a little while, maybe ?" she made a suggestion of her own, and glanced thankfully to Logan for his simply standing at hand, in case tantrums began, or else Gilbert might go flying from his whooping seat. "Then it will be worth the wait," she winked. "Can you be a big boy and pour some of this milk into a saucer here, for the cat ? That might keep him out of trouble for a moment !" she found a saucer from Mossy's workdesk and undid the milk bottle for Gilbert. "Careful, now, it's quite a heavy bottle. I always spill it, almost as though I am as bad as the cat ! But I'm sure you can do better than me .."

"Cole says that you are a talented musician, Logan," she tasked on, seamlessly, a compliment for Logan, hoping that a subject he knew something about might just gather him to speak a word or two. She had known enough awkward conversations with farmers' sons today already. She did not glance up, but focused on hands, hovering, in case Wesley lost his grip. Of course, she ought not to distract Logan too much. The Woods boy was hovering in case it was Gilbert who lost his grip first ….


"But goodness how you've gone and loved these shoes of yours to pieces," the old cobbler smiled, as though proud they'd been so well loved, as he eased the broken, holy remnants off Maggy's small feet. "Couldn't bear to be parted from them, eh ?" he teased, softly, providing an alibi for her having coped with such sorry footwear for so long. He could not help but note that the child had not grown especially fast since the last time that she was here, and her measurements confirmed it. But he did not remark upon it aloud for he reasoned all here knew quite why, and all were kind enough to not make comment, only aid. "Let's see if we can't find something you'll love just as much again," he encouraged her.

Dessy could see the sense in their measuring Maggy first, and (she suspected) it was a subtle means of waving the little girl off for her dayplans, while they sorted the payment side of things without her ever having to worry about it. It was little gestures, quietly unspoken but considered, between the good hearted folk of Bree which made Dessy so glad she had a place here.

[Rillewen]

Logan and Liana Woods, with Maggy Winters, Autumn and Wesley Rose, and Gilbert and Rosemary Roebuck

Sitting quietly for the cobbler, Maggy tried to hold her foot still while he worked. She twisted around a little to try and see the cat, though, and giggled a bit at how he knocked all the shoes off.

‘But goodness how you've gone and loved these shoes of yours to pieces. Couldn't bear to be parted from them, eh?"

She smiled at the nice old cobbler. “I usually go barefoot in the summer, so it makes my shoes last longer.” She explained. “But they’re kinda getting too tight now,” She frowned at the hole in the end where her toes were poking through. “Will I be able to have new shoes today? Or must I wait for them to be made?” She didn’t mean to sound impatient, but her feet rather cold. She couldn't quite remember how it was done last time, as that was before her daddy went away and that was ages ago now.

It was more than that, though. Both Mrs Woods and Mrs Rose had as good as forbidden her from helping Clay with fixing up his new house if she did not get some new shoes, saying that she would slip off the roof or trip on something in those old shoes, and hurt herself. If she could get the shoes right away, she would not have to break her promise to help him. Though, of course, she could always go help and just do groundwork, and maybe no one would have to know about that...


Logan was busy supervising his little nephew, who seemed intent on pushing the poor rocking horse to its limit. He hoped it was sturdy enough to endure the rambunctious enthusiasm of Gilbert. Surprised by the question addressed to himself, he looked over at Dessy. For a moment he looked like a deer caught in the light of a bright lantern, but he quickly recovered, somewhat. “Oh, uh. Does he?” He couldn’t help a little grin. “I.. thanks, I’m not, I mean, I don’t know how talented, really… I just play a bit, you know. It helps calm the sheep.” He ended, feeling that sounded a little lame, but he didn’t know what else to say. Running a hand through his hair, he absently watched Wesley take the bottle of milk. "I play some notes on my flute, for signals and things, too." He added, feeling a little blush come to his cheeks, though he couldn't explain why.


Intent on doing his very best, Wesley held the bottle in both hands. He often did such tasks for his mother, and therefore felt he was very qualified. The milk poured into the saucer without incident, and he proudly offered the bottle back to Dessy. “I do that all the time, at home. Mother lets me do lots of jobs like that.” He announced, pleased by his success.


Liana smiled as she looked around, observing how things had mostly settled down. The children were excited, but now they were occupied. Autumn and Rosemary were now busy petting Conkers. While they were thus occupied, Liana went about picking up the shoes that the cat had knocked off, and replaced them on the shelf. Soon, Maggy would have her shoes and could run off to help Clay. At least that would be one less child to watch. Liana debated whether to give each of the children permission to run outside to play in the snow, once they had their shoes. If Autumn went next, then they could have Gilbert go next, and Wes could get his turn to ride on the rocking horse while he was being fitted. Then the most energetic child could go outside where Autumn could keep an eye on him, and the rest would be much easier. They were less likely to knock things over or break anything if they were outside, after all.

@Ercassie