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Chatting in the Marketplace

Short Summary: Nob and Tiriel speak of this and that, when Silverbeard joins them and the discussion grows a little more heated.
Date (real-life): 2010-11-15
Scene Location: Bree

[Tiriel(#30072)] Summer in Bree is a constant, and this afternoon is no different than the day before. Warm, sunny and dry, it's brought the Breelanders out in swarms. Or, at least, in no small number, to visit relatives, or trade news of the latest scandal, or see what new goods Bree Market has to offer.
One figure here, however, does not seem swept in tow with the rest of the crowd, and in fact seems to observe all with faint curiosity. Taller than any human of Bree, Tiriel is content to lean against a parked wagon--earlier emptied of its haul--and smiles as two children speed by, calling insults to each other.

A rather stout, but not overly-fat, hobbit comes down the road - at not to fast a pace, either. Nob must not be in a hurry today, for he is whistling jauntily and taking his time, watching all those around him. And Tiriel comes in for her share of his good humor, as he lifts a hand to her. "Good day, there!"

[Tiriel(#30072)] With the arrival of another--who offers a jaunty hello--Tiriel's gaze is pulled from the rambunctious children to Nob. She smiles a greeting, followed by a more softly-uttered "Good day to you, sir."
Her gaze upon him lingers, and her expression seems to suggest she's trying to remember where she's seen him before...
"Passing through, are you?" Nob asks, stopping as his greeting is returned. He seems disposed to be chatty. "Tis nice weather, I must say. Pleasant for this time of year!"

[Tiriel(#30072)] At mention of the weather, Tiriel looks to the sky overhead and nods agreement. "It is a perfect day, I'd say." She looks back to Nob, and her gaze tracks over the crowd. "Passing through again, yes. All seems well here?" 
It is no less than an invitation for the other to continue chattering, if he will.

Nob seems perfectly willing to take this invitation, for he glances about, then heads for a barrel, settling himself on it comfortably. Taking out a red handkerchief, he wipes his forehead carefully, then folds it and puts it back into his pocket. "Yes, indeed, especially now that we ran those dratted bandits off. Dreadful, really dreaful." He shakes his head. "Why, they even burned down Mister Pickwood's barn! Can you believe it? They said that foreign fellow was part of it, but I don't know. He helped build it up again, anyways, and I think if I were to burn down a barn, which I wouldn't, of course, but if I did, I wouldn't be doing any building on it afterwards!"

[Tiriel(#30072)] Tiriel moves to better face Nob as he takes a seat on the barrel. As he relates the most recent happenings, mentioning bandits, the ranger frowns.
"A foreign fellow?" she repeats, and reaches up to rub at her chin. "Was this fellow ever named? For aye, I can't see the reason in building a place up again if you'd burned it down to begin with."

"Ah... well, yes. Give me a moment - that lad, Gidon, he went about with him a fair bit. Some says as it weren't the best company for a young fellow like him, with his dad not around to advise him. He's a good lad though, Gidon is. Lives out by the marshes and sells herbs and the like about town. Never heard anything bad about him, save the company he keeps, and /he/ says the man saved his life." Nob shrugs. Who's to know the truth, among all the things people say? "Brev! That was it. From off south somewheres, I think."

[Tiriel(#30072)] "Brev," Tiriel seems to commit the name to memory as she repeats it slowly.
"Well, as for the young lad, it's not uncommon for someone left to run about to find a friend, eh? I'd think it a hard thing to live off of selling herbs at market." 
Another moment goes by in which Tiriel seems to contemplate what Nob's said, and then she offers. "And well, if that foreign fellow was from the south...there's a world of difference in how they see things, or so I've heard."

"True, true," Nob agrees. He takes out the handkerchief, unfolds it, and wipes his brow again. "Anyways, he's off again. East, I think someone said they saw him go. And the lad with him. Tis a bit hard on Honora, of course, but she keeps busy enough. They'll be safe enough, I'm sure, especially if they're with those dwarfish folk. They all took off as well, about the same time as we scared away the bandits. Most of them anyways."

[Damlur(#30238)]        Speaking of Dwarvish folk... from the northwest, there comes one of those vaunted people now, stumping along with his cane, trying to do his best in ignoring the stares of various Breefolk and their whispering. There can be no doubt this particular Dwarf is the one called Master Silverbeard - after all, he does have a silver (and bejewelled) beard.
        The crossroads of Bree he goes, eyes flicking about the various folk.

[Tiriel(#30072)] "The boy left with Brev?" It's less of a question than a voicing of Tiriel's concerns. "And who is Honora?" There might have been more to this line of questions, but as a Dwarf makes way through the center of town, he is hard to miss--bejeweled beard and all--and Tiriel flashes a quick glance his way.

"Ah now. Tis his girl," Nob explains, grinning broadly. "Though as to which of them decided she should be..." He lays a finger along his nose and winks. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was her. No matter, many a girl's done the same, and the boy never no wiser. But Gidon's a gentle lad, and quiet, and I daresay he's just as happy she chose him."
He glances up then, and a swift frown crosses his face, before it is gone, and he slips off his barrel, bowing a little. "Master Silverbeard," he says, politely enough; though not with the casual friendliness he has showed so far.

[Damlur(#30238)]        The Dwarf pauses as his name is called; glittering eyes flick about beneath the gray/green hood until they come to rest upon the hobbit. What might be a quiet sigh comes from the smith before he nods his head to Nob, gaze flicking briefly to the woman. "Master hobbit," rumbles the Dwarf in reply, somewhat chary. "A pleasant day, no?"

[Tiriel(#30072)] "At the revelation of 'who' Honora is, Tiriel nods, a knowing smile crossing her face. "Aye, it ever is thus," she says as Nob explains the rest, though a glance across the way and towards the gates of Bree betrays a restlessness--
Too soon there is else to consider, however, and the young woman attends the conversation struck up by Master Silverbeard--who Tiriel acknowledges with a polite nod.

"Indeed. Most pleasant." Nob climbs back up onto the barrel and settles himself again. He doesn't /quite/ glower at the dwarf, but he can't quite help bursting out a few minutes later - and probably rather cryptically, "And what might you be wanting to do, then?"

[Damlur(#30238)]        "Oh, the usual: looking for smithing work that needs to be done," replies the Dwarf lightly, shrugging a shoulder and perhaps trying to avoid a subject all-together. "I trust the mistress of the Pony's kitchens has had no cause of complaint on the cauldron?"
        The eyes flick once more to the woman, and the Dwarf bows after a moment. "I am called Master Silverbeard here in Bree; if you need any metal smithing done, new or repair, do not hesitate to seek me out. I can promise Dwarven quality at low cost."

[Tiriel(#30072)] The tense acknowledgment of Nob to the Dwarf is noted with a raised brow, though Tiriel says naught as the two exchange 'pleasantries.' 
 As Master Silverbeard offers his metal smithing services, however, the ranger can be seen to find interest in the fact. 
"You have a shop here in Bree, then?" she wonders.

"No," Nob admits. Reluctantly. He stares at the dwarf a little longer, then settles back. "She's very happy with it," he adds, fairly. And to Tiriel, "He made a new kettle for the Pony; I've no complaints with the quality. And a fair price, too."

[Damlur(#30238)]        "Quite fair, I thought; half of what it would usually cost to make," rumbles Silverbeard before answering Tiriel's question, shaking his head. "Not a shop, no, given that I am often travelling Eriador or between Bree and the Shire."
        The gaze flicks back to Nob. "I trust all is well in the Pony? There was a Breeguard that had too much to drink the last time I was there; I do hope he did not get trampled by the morning crowd."

Nob chuckles, regaining something of his earlier cheer. "Not him. Ernie, he comes in every evening, mostly. I expect he slept it off in the stables."

[Tiriel(#30072)] Taking note of Master Silverbeard's answer, the ranger can be seen to quell a smile at mention of an inebriated Breeguard. Though she seems eager to hear the answer--her gaze settling upon Nob--she speaks nothing more for the moment, and once the answer is given keeps to her silence.

[Damlur(#30238)]        A slight grunt comes from the Dwarf. "I do not see how the Breeguard can do their duty, given their love of the Pony's goods. Do not get me wrong, I have no problem with them drinking... but stumbling around drunk..." Silverbeard shakes his head before he sighs slightly.

Instantly, Nob bristles up again. "We've done just fine, thank you!" True or not, it is plain he is not going to listen to any criticism of Bree or its people! Then he mellows the tiniest bit. "Ernie does get a bit, well. But there's naught wrong with him."

[Tiriel(#30072)] "It cannot be surprising, though it must needs be alarming," Tiriel muses on the point of the drunken guard, her glance quickly turned to the Dwarf. "For how can Bree be protected by its own guard, if such is the case?" She looks to Nob, then, hopeful of attending his answer. " Are there others in the Breeguard so given to drink, or is it just this one, alone?"

[Damlur(#30238)]        "You have not suffered an assault the guard may have to beat back," replies the Dwarf evenly to Nob, then adds in a conciliatory manner, "though I have never had cause to complain for things like thieving and fights in the Pony. I cannot speak to how well they handled the affair of the bandits, though your own people seem to have a... low opinion of your mayor for it."

Nob sniffs. "No," he tells Tiriel. "Well, most of them like a pint or two, but Ernie, well." He shrugs. "And he's been a breeguard since he was a young man; they can hardly turn him out." He looks balefully at Damlur, and says nothing about the mayor.

[Tiriel(#30072)] "A low opinion is sometimes the easiest to offer in a town such as this," Tiriel says quietly, though her glance travels quickly between Nob and Silverbeard. "If it be only one guardsman, then perhaps his duties might be changed so they are more fitting for his...condition?" 
She stands away from the wagon she has been leaning against and gives her shoulders a shrug. "But I am hardly the one to decide what is best for Bree." She smiles. "In any case, I might keep a watch for him, as I'm headed for The Pony next..."

[Damlur(#30238)]        A grunt comes from the Dwarf. "Well, I would not count on your current mayor remaining in his position for long, given the opinions I heard," says Silverbeard with a shrug. "Ah, well. I must be on my way. A good day to both of you," says the Dwarf, nodding his head to Nob and Tiriel before he starts on his way.

"Hmph," is all Nob has to say. "Good day," he adds, reluctantly. But as the dwarf leaves, he sighs. "I can't say I like the mayor much myself. One of Bill Ferny's relations, and not quite as scoundrelly as he is himself, but none too nice a man, if I have to say so myself. Still." He glowers after Damlur now. "We certainly don't need a /dwarf/ for mayor!"

[Tiriel(#30072)] The comment Master Silverbeard grumbles about the mayor seems unexpected to the ranger, and she marks her surprise by following the Dwarf's curt exit with her gaze--though Nob's own revelation comes as even more of a surprise. 
"A dwarf for mayor?" she repeats, mostly to herself, but then says, loud enough for Nob to hear as she starts away down the street. "Aye'n but this should prove interesting..."

Nob hops off his barrel and heads on into the market.

Date added: 2010-11-22 23:46:34    Hits: 197
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