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Elendor - Thursday, June 14, 2007, 4:23 PM
Great East Road - Turnoff to Stock
To the south begins a large wetland area called the Marish, which lays between the Green-Hill Country and the Brandywine river. A road known as the Causeway is the main route through the Marish, which is raised on a high bank because of frequent flooding. Far off to the west along the Great Road evidence of a very small village can be seen, and the Brandywine River is in plain view off to the east. There is a tall wooden sign to the side of the road. You can see the glowing lights of Stock to the south.
It is a lush spring night here, in the land that is known as the Shire. Away from the East Road, well hidden from the sights of nosy travellers sits a small encampment of elves. Tinwellon is there, wrapping the leftovers of the evening meal into large green leaves.
Yawning a little, Pennivas comes into the camp with his guard, looking a little bit sleepy. He was carrying a bundle of sticks for firewood as he puts them down quietly, rubbing one eye. Glancing over, he notices Tinwellon and perks up "Oh, is there any left over before bed?" he asks hopefully, suddenly reappearing at the other elf's side anxiously.
The cook glances at the elfling with surprise. "Ai, Penniavas, have you been allowed to leave the camp?" He wonders while selecting one of the green bundles. "Here is a bit of bread and cheese, but I am afraid the stew has all been eaten."
"Yes, so long as my guard is with me. But I only went a few yards away to get some firewood." PEnniavas notes quickly to reasure the older elf as he takes the bundle quickly "Bread and cheese is fine! I love bread! I was hoping to see a hobbit but They must all be in bed right now. Maybe tomorrow we will see one. He notes hopefully "Ringram says he will show me, from afar, where Master Baggins lived. "
"Oh, do you think we will see Hobbits?" Tinwellon, himself being only some hundred and twenty years of age, has never left the safe valley of Imladris before. Curiously he peers out into the dark before reaching the food to Penniavas. "But I heard the guards say that we will travel off the pathways and roads. I wonder if the Hobbits would stray so far from their homes?"
Unwrappin the food quickly, Penniavas begins to push the bread into his mouth, his love of talking matched only by his love of simple bread. Chewing a few moments quickly to swallow it, he muffles about the bread "Well, I thought... *gulp* I think Ringram means to take me closer for a short time, to see them before we continue on." swallow.
"Now that should be interesting," says Tinwellon excitedly. "I will ask him if I can go along with you. Mind you, I have never seen another Hobbit than Master Baggins. Do they all have hairy feet then?"
"I think so. " Penniavas states "I haven't seen any but Master Baggins as well." he starts on the cheese "I am told young hobbits would not even come up to MY knees. They would get blown away on a windy day!" he laughs a little at the thought.
Tinwellon chuckles softly. "How odd," finds the Silvan elf. "But I am told they do not grow beards, unlike the dwarves - and the dwarves, when grown up, are still taller than a Hobbit. I suppose that is a good way to tell one from the other."
"I never did get to see a Dwarf when they were visiting." Penniavas notes softly in dissapointment "They always seemed to be elsewhere. Maybe we will see one another time." he notes, unable to stay negative for long as he finishes offthe cheese heartily.
As the Elves chat about hairy feet, a pair of hairy feet hoof it down the Great East Road, moseying in from Stock to the south. Despite the advanced night, one hobbit has seen fit to head out for a stroll: the Thain of the Shire, no less, a silver-tipped walking stick in his right hand, thudding rhythmically on the road from Stock as he arrives in the area, increasingly sparse hair blown by the wind.
As he walks, Paladin pauses at the junction of the Stock Road and the Great East Road, frowning slightly. His nostrils flare slightly and he sniffs the air, turning about using his walking stick as a pivot, his eyes flashing about in the general vicinity of the Elves hideaway, and their rather unusual meal.
"I wonder if we might see dwarves beyond the Shire." Tinwellon muses while stuffing away the bundles into a large pouch. "They live in the Ered Luin after..." He is interrupted by a guardsman, cloaked and hooded, who gestures at them from the edge of the small camp. "Hush, you two," the sentinel says. "There comes one!" The faint flame, that had served as a campfire before, is doused as well and utter darkness, save for Varda's lamps in the sky is the result.
Perking up at the guards' words, PEnniavas stands up, even as he puts a hand over his mouth to try and see. But then he's soon urged down again, looking over at Tinwellon pleadingly, eyes big, bright and doelike in their hopefulness as he points in the direction of the unseen Hobbit.
The furtive whispers do not draw Paladin's eye any further, but the Thain still frowns, his fingers gripping around his stick. "Kids out late, like as not," the Thain murmurs to himself, his voice carrying through the silence. "Hrmph." Another pause, as though teetering on the edge of deciding what to do. "Well, I just hope I don't have to chase them."
Then, Paladin begins to move in the direction of the elvish camp. His guess is quite accurate: apparently, his is a nose used to sniffing out surprising meals.
*pop* Something small drops on the ground near Paladin and rolls past him onto the road, something round and yellowish.
As the round yellow thing zips past, Paladin turns sharply to follow it, watching it bounce off onto the road. The Thain frowns at it, as he's frowned at so much lately, but the distraction is soon past, and he turns back on his previous course. However, the act of turning slightly marred his trajectory, and he is now heading off slightly to the left of the elves.
"Oi!" the Thain calls into the bushes, lifting his stick. "You lot better be heading home right this instant. And if you're in there, Tulro Took, I can promise you that your parents will give you such a thrashing you won't be able to sit for a week."
Biting his tongue, Penniavas can barely withhold a giggle at the Hobbit as he crouches there. He looks again at Tinwellon, holding his empty hand out hopefully, wanting a go at it as well, eyes dancing in the moonlight. He bites his tongue hard to keep from laughing aloud.
Tinwellon himself seems to have difficulties keeping his amusement under control. He presses a finger on his lips and shakes his head while looking back and forth between the Hobbit and Penniavas. And, to the far left of Paladin, something rustles noticably in the bushes.
The rustle draws the Thain's attention once more, and he scowls. "Oi!" he repeats, stooping at the side of the road and, with considerable speed for a hobbit of his years, picking up a stone and firing it with some accuracy towards the rustle. "Get out right this instant! Don't count on beating me to the Smials; the door's locked this time of night."
The Thain, to say the least, seems unamused by the situation. Grumbling, he steps off the road, and begins risking his rather nice clothing in the thick brush which surrounds the Great East Road.
Glaring at Tinwellon slightly, Penniavas guestures again, tapping his open palm, then pantomiming tossing something and then pointing in the direction of the small yellow thing that was tossed earlier. He then looks again hopefully at Tinwellon, before whirling his head arond at the rustling, one hand going to the elfs shoulder as he inhales, almost gasping as the hobbit fires back.
From afr, but not that fr, a sound of wheel gritting the road can be heard. A dot of light bobs from the genral Brandywine direction. It drew closer, but it's yet a dot and a lighter sound to the ear than the one of the movement in the bushes.
If the brave Thain hit anything with his missile - who can tell? For the result comes not as he might have imagined. Instead, something stirs in the brushes now, to the far right where the light has just appeared.
And that light keep slowly movign toward. The gritting sound regularly emerging.
Brave? Well, it does take a certain valour to deal with a couple hobbit ruffians out after bed. But as the light appears on the road, Paladin takes the opportunity to step back, heading back onto the road as the sounds of turning ears reach his ears. This erases some of his visual displeasure, but it returns twofold when the bushes start stirring again in a different spot.
"Must be making a run for it," Paladin muses from the road, allowing himself a small chuckle. "Ah, well. Let them run. At least I probably gave them a bit of a scare."
As the light move closer, so did the sound became more precise. There is a rattling of jars and then, as sure as it is when you are awake, the light paint the carrier of it:a cart full of glass jars and the one pulling it diligently:Maybell Puddifoot. She is totally unaware of even her fellow hobbiton the road or anything. She is about her business.
Tinwellon grins broadly and sits back to listen to the sounds of both the Hobbit and the approaching cart. What the eyes cannot see, his ears must reveal now.
Looking indignant at the unwillingnes to be given some of the fun as well, Penniavas crawls forwards a few steps to the bushes, laying flat on the grond as he tries to peer through, hoping for at least a glimpse of the Hobbit beyond, eyes wide and shining.
Paladin nods at the approaching cart easily, and, thudding his walking stick on the ground, he steps off to walk towards it. "Excuse me!" he calls towards Maybell. "I don't suppose you've seen a bunch of ruffian children running around staying up late and causing mischief?" He asks the question with almost leisurely confidence, as though half-expecting detailed descriptions and lists of names.
Another little rustle as the elf lies down, but it's mostly drowned out by the moving card near Paladin. Still, he does turn back towards the bushes, and scowls again, looking not very near Penniavas.
"Eeep!" emits Maybell, obviousy startle by the Thain's voice."No, I just left a few of them home, but I didnt see one more. It's fairly soon for children to be wandering without parent. Are you sure it's not your stomach?" She asks, approching, still pulling the cart. The tone revels that she has no idea about who migh be talking. When she arrives close enough, she blushes and gasp.
"Stay where you are, Penniavas!" The guard's voice is not louder than the soft evening breeze, yet clear enough for elven ears to hear. Tinwellon regards the elfling with big eyes and tilts his head.
Freezing as the Thain turns about, Penniavas tries to make himself one with the dirt. Remaining still, the teen elf wwaits a few moments. He moves a little forwards, then stops obediently when the guard hisses out, and puts his chin down, now fully under the bush, only his feet sticking out back into camp as he goes utterly motionless, not moving another muscle.
Maybell's question goes neglected for a few moments as Paladin squints furiously into the dark bushes, utterly unable to see anything incriminating. "It's not my stomach," the Thain answers, voice just a little testy. "I heard several rustlings and voices in the bushes just now, as I was walking past." 'Voices', as the elves should know full well, is an exaggeration.
"It -is- early. That's the point." Paladin refuses to look back at Maybell, once again stalking towards the shrubbery. "They ought to be in bed. Luckily, if they're Tooks, they won't be able to get into the Smials tonight unless they make enough of a ruckus that somebody comes to open the door, and then everybody will know they were out late anyway."
Maybell stop the cart and takes the lantern in hand, profering it to Paladin:"This might help." she says first, then barate about the education of children and the difference there is between *good* country dside parenting and those *privildge* children from the more whealty smial."They lack of dioscipline or their parents should be about dong their parenatal supervision, *our* children would never disobey or go ut secretly at night, We sleep the nearest of the door and let me tell you, if one would just *try* to get around, they will learn it in the manure pit fpr a while."
The light of Maybell's lantern might reveal the round, yellow something which had almost been stomped upon by Paladin. Right next to his feet, on the grassy balk of the road lies - a small loaf of cheese.
The Thain bristles at this rather explicit criticism, jabbing his walking stick towards Maybell. "Good countryside parenting? Yes, when you're not letting wolves carry off your babies and letting them trapeze around the Shire like common tramps." Paladin straightens himself up to his full height, clutching his walking stick in both hands before him. "Make them a pair of clothes every year and hope they don't wear it out because you can't make much money putting dirt into piles or whatever it is you folk get up to! Why, at least -us- hobbits know our business. I'll tell you what, you wouldn't catch my Peregrin prancing out without a word to anybody."
Angrily, Paladin thrusts his stick down into the ground, and thus into the little wheel of cheese, which he holds up before him with some astonishment. "Cheese? Those blighters threw -cheese- at me?" He pauses. "Probably perfectly good cheese before they did it." Another pause. "Isn't that peculiar? Never known a hobbit lad to throw perfectly good cheese away!"
The lady hobbit is holding back the lantern nd makes the deaf. Not even interested to the cheeze comment or anything. She hang it back and start pulling on the cart.:I hate to tell you that you'll have tofigure this out alone. She comments. "I have a *very* busy day ahead. And somehow, since it *cant* be children, that could well be giant rat. SO if I were you, I would stop looking for adventure by the oroad side and stay on the road, keep mainstream. It's less dangerous." and she pulls the cart away.
Inside the elven camp, this conservation has been observed with great amusement. Tinwellon suppresses his laughter by holding his mouth with both hands and glances merrily into Paladin's and Maybell's direction. And whoever dropped the cheese, he might not have intented to waste it.
Biting his lip, Penniavas squirms a little in the dirt, tears watering his eyes as he tries not to laugh aloud. A finger is stuck into his mouth to bite on and keep it from escaping, hair tangling in a few overhead branches.
Lifting the cheese in front of his eyes, Paladin frowns slightly, his eyes just a little watery. "This was a perfectly good cheese," he says mournfully, with the tone a young hobbit would use to describe a deceased cat. Rather feebly, he tries to brush some of the dirt off of it, but eventually settles for pulling it off his walking stick and throwing it, discus-style, into the bushes.
With his conversation at an end, the Thain turns and heads back down the road. Inevitably, however, his course again takes him towards the elf camp: that -is- the way he was going before he was so abruptly distracted.
The young elf's eyes widen a little as he sees those hairy feet approaching him. Uh oh! He curls his fingers up, hoping that the bush over his head was too thick to go through for the Hobbit. He goes still, closing his eyes as well as though that would help make him more unseen.
*pop* The cheese seems to have its own ideas. Soon after the Thain had thrown it away into the bush, it comes flying back. This time, neatly wrapped into a small linen cloth.
As more cheese pops back into the road, Paladin pauses. At the cheese. The -wrapped- cheese. Putting his foot out to stop its journey, Paladin looks off in the direction from whence it came. His expression now is less irritated and more suspicious, the look he gives that shrubbery one of immense distrust.
After a few seconds, stooping to pick up the cheese, Paladin then just walks off. "I don't want to know," he murmurs as he goes, heading off to the west and leaving the elves to their elvishness.
Penniavas begins to breathe again as the Hobbit wanders off, glad he hadnt been stepped on. Trembling a little with excitement he begins to wriggle back into the camp.
And as the Thain is finally out of sight, the sentinels themselves cannot help but chuckle. "Those Hobbits are an amusing folk!" Also Tinwellon eventually gives in laughs merrily, not too loud but not surpressed either. A very elvish laughter.
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