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Green Dragon Encounter

Tags: Torebras,  Boldibad

Short Summary: Boldibad and Torebras chat in the Green Dragon.
Date (real-life): 2011-07-31
Scene Location: Bywater, The Shire
Date (in-game): Afterlithe 22, 1453 S.R.
Time of Day: Afternoon
Logfile from Elendor.

================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Sun Jul 31 15:26:09 2011 (+time).
IC Time is 14:18:27 on Sunday, Afterlithe (July) 22, 1453 S.R.
IC Weather Conditions:
Not a single cloud can be seen in the sky, where the sun shines brightly. The air is cool for the time of year, but warm enough for cloaks to be disgarded.

Middle-earth time is:
Daytime on Sunday, Day 22 of July.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 15:26:11 MDT on Sun Jul 31 2011.

The Green Dragon Inn
Welcome to the Green Dragon Inn, You step upon a well-polished floor and looking around you, you see freshly painted walls of green. A large overstuffed couch and a number of well built heavy wooden chairs surround a wide stone hearth before a large fireplace, perfect for relaxing with a bowl of fresh pipeweed, or just browsing a copy of the local newspaper. The Green Dragons' sign hangs over the doorway, Welcome to the Green Dragon along with a ornate carving depicting a massive dragon. Dining tables with simple green tablecloths and candles stuffed into wine bottles are scattered throughout the inn, inviting one to sit and enjoy some friendly gossip or food. A small stage with a piano sitting next to it complete the scene. Johnny tends bar and is always welcome to greet patrons.
Shire Chronicle Paper - Hobbiton Edition
Johnny (Barkeep)
Obvious exits:
 Back Room leads to Guest Quarters.
 Out leads to Village of Bywater.

A group of hobbits sit in the corner of the room, gossiping amongst themselves and chuckling. You could probably EAVESDROP on some gossip, or even GOSSIP <message> to give them something new to talk about.
See +SHIRE HELP COMMANDS GOSSIP for Admin commands.

This hobbit is, at first glance, little different from most of his kind. Of average height and build, his homely face is round and rosy-cheeked, his girth is ... well, he's as fond of his food as any. However, there's a certain lift to his chin that gives him an air of confidence, and his nut-brown eyes have a tendency to grow distant every now and then - the look of a Thinker.

He is dressed quite the dandy. Over a snowy white linen shirt with starched collar and cuffs he wears a bottle-green velvet waistcoat, its polished silver buttons engraved with acorns; a complementary design of oak leaves adorns the large silver belt buckle around his prominent middle. The cocked hat that sits atop his glossy chestnut curls is decorated with a pheasant's feather. In a nod to practicality, he wears sensible black breeches.

                               Boldibad Bolger                                
                                 Setting: IC                                  
    By all appearances, a gentlehobbit, distinguished by at least five decades of age and experience. Wrinkles only seem to be making their presence known by making their way into the sides of his mouth, and around his eyes. Probably weighing in well over 120 pounds, his girth seems respectable, at least as far as Bolgers go. Despite the extra weight, and advancing age, Boldibad seems to be in fine health.
    A few inches of curly, reddish-brown hair cover his head and hang down past his ears. The texture appears to be quite thick, almost wooly. His relatively large feet are coated by similar stuff, the only difference is that this hair appears to be trimmed much shorter than that on his head. His nose is somewhat bulbous, but not so much as to look out of proportion with the rest of his face.
     He is wearing a white shirt of cotton, buttoned all the way up. On top of this is an old waistcoat that seems to fit him perfectly. The waistcoat is red with yellow buttons up the center and over the pockets.
     Draped over his shoulders is a thick, green cloak meant to keep the chill of winter out. It is held shut with a fine brooch of silver.
     A silver chain dangles from a pocket in his waistcoat. It appears to be attached to a watch.
     His trousers are black and they dangle somewhat below his ankles. A black belt of thin leather has been wrapped around his waist and from it hangs a couple of pouches that probably contain money or pipeweed.

Some of those inside are here simply for the fabulous food; others are recovering from a little too much of the fine weather ... Torebras Bywater is clearly in the latter category, for he mops his forehead with a damp silk handkerchief and fans himself with his feathered hat before waving it to attract the barkeeper's attention. "Some more of that iced tea- why, if it isn't my old friend Mister Boldibad Bolger!" he exclaims, gesturing with the hat even more vigorously. "Over here!"

Boldibad glances over his shoulder, losing his train of thought. "Er," he says, glancing distractedly back at the bartender, "I'll have the usual, Johnny." After Johnny whips the menu back from Boldibad, shakes his head, and serves him a mug of ale, Boldibad makes his way across the room with a smile. Arriving at the table, he bows quickly and pulls a seat under himself. "Well, Mr. Bywater," he says with a jovial smirk, "imagine finding you here, in Bywater. I haven't seen you for ages--I thought you had gone back to Bree by now."

Torebras looks a little flustered. "I - well, no. That is ... I must admit, I had considered that matter. Bree is in sore need of leadership." He shakes his head. "But in retrospect I find myself very comfortable here. And of course, Bywater is such a charming little place to visit. Imagine them naming a hamlet after my family!" Only then does he think to ask the obvious: "And how are you, Mister Bolger?"

Boldibad begins to retort on Torebras' comment about his family name, but changes his course at the most recent question. "Fine, thank you. I'm on my way to Michel Delving, to speak with our own 'mayor.' Of course, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to stop by the Green Dragon. I was always fond of that little pool nearby, too. I suppose that if you went back there, you would miss that river of ours--I don't suppose you have one like it in Bree." He takes a sip of ale and adds, "I don't take much to swimming in it or floating on it, of course, but it's nice to look at."

Torebras gives a sudden shudder at the mention of the river. "No we don't thank you," he says rather primly. "As a matter of fact, there was some incident with that river last winter, thin ice I believe. Rather a dangerous area to leave unfenced. If Mister Nob from the Pony hadn't happened to be on vacation ..." Ohoh, so he believes Shirefolk negligent?

"What business brings you to Michel Delving? Is there some problem?" he adds nosily in afterthought.

Boldibad tsks, shaking his head a bit. "That river is dangerous. But, come now, a fence? Falling through ice isn't exactly a common occurrence--hobbits with any," he stops and corrects himself, "that is to say hobbits with any background near the River generally keep away from it!" He takes another gulp of ale and looks around. "Oh, no, it isn't anything. Well, it is something, now that I think of it. But, I shouldn't bother you with petty matters."

"Oh, I assure you, my dear sir, that it isn't bothering!" Torebras swallows his natural indignation at that first remark - after all, it wasn't he who fell in - and instead leans forward, sipping at his iced tea. "Perhaps if you were to tell me your concerns, I might even be able to help?"

Boldibad leans forward over the table. "Well," he begins, "it is that sheepheaded Proudfoot family! Their smial is off some ways north of my family's. They're just nothing but trouble. Well, I'm going to see if the mayor can do something about them. He has those shirriffs, so they say, who guide home stray animals and drunkards. Why couldn't they escort some of those bothersome Proudfoots away?!" He pounds the table lightly, and then blushes a bit.

"I - excuse me?" Torebras actually pauses, teacup midway to his mouth, to regard Boldibad in astonishment. "I have met one of the Proudfoots myself, and I would have to agree with you that he really was a most uncivil fellow. But are you telling me that they have actually broken the law?"

Boldibad scratches the lobe of his ear for a moment, "Well, I don't know much about laws, but I swear they send their children to Bolger Smial to play pranks, and throw eggs. I am certain of it..." He takes another long sip of ale. "Not only that! You should see how they behave around us--they act as if they were the oldest family in the North-farthing." He laughs sardonically. "Of course, that's nonsense."

"Dear me, dear me," Torebras mutters placatingly, drinking tea. "Well, of /course/ you should report serious matters like egging. I remember when I had similar unpleasantness myself a couple of years back. Terrible, terrible." His cup is emptied and then he enquire earnestly, "Which family /is/ the oldest in the North-Farthing, then? Yours? Or was there some offshoot of those wild-spirited Tooks?"

Boldibad drains the last of his ale, and lets out a satisfied sigh. "The Bolgers, of course," he says with a wink. Getting up from his seat with minimal trouble, he smiles and nods in Johnny's direction, and says to Torebras, "Well, it was good to see you again, Mr. Bywater, but I'm afraid I should be on my way. I'd like to the nearby home of a friend before it gets too dark."

"Ah, right, I'll be sure to remember," Torebras answers with a little laugh. "And don't let me keep you, of course. Safe journey, Mister Bolger!" He waves a hand to the departing Boldibad, then mutters thoughtfully, "Perhaps just a /little/ sustenance before I do anything else ..."


Date added: 2011-08-05 09:20:58    Hits: 37
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