================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Fri Jul 16 21:01:38 2004
Bree time: Mid Afternoon 4:04 PM on Sunday of Autumn - September 11,1432
Moon Phase: Last Quarter Moon
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Breelands Weather
The mid afternoon autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The murky sky is overcast and dreary.
*OOC* Toby changes the time to be night also, if you've no objections.
*OOC* Aragorn says, "Just one thing: Since this is a temp-character, I can't CS. And yeah, night is fine."

GER: Centre of Bree
The Great East Road wraps itself around the bottom of Bree-hill. The Road bends northwest as it skirts around the base of the hill. Where the Road clears the hill, it straightens out and runs in a line toward the South Gate. To the northwest, a short distance along the Road, a large inn is visible. To the south, the gate stands open.

A thick murk of clouds blankets the night sky, cutting off any light from stars or moon, and enfolding the small town in muffled silence. The road curves here, skirting the base of Bree Hill, and running between several shade trees, with heavily laden berry bushes huddled beneath them. Not too far distant, a few scattered houses loom; with more beyond them - but at this hour, there is neither light nor sound emanating from them.

In the blackness, the tiny sounds of night seem much louder. That rustle: maybe a mouse; that: nothing more than a branch rubbing against its neighbor.


From the center of town there comes a lone figure upon the road. He stands tall in the night air, but a thick hood covers his facial features so that his identity cannot be discerned beneath it, even were it broad daylight. Darkness shrouds him further. A quick wipe of his sleeve upon his mouth is a telling sign as to where he's been this eve, however.

Despite the amplified noises of the night the traveler makes no visible sign. If he has caught the rustling of any bushes he does not show it.


As the man, much taller than any native to Bree, comes into view; the night changes somehow. The noises are the same, the lighting (or lack thereof) the same - yet... there is something of a gathered intensity where he steps, a watchfulness and waiting.

The light from the distant Inn that reaches this far only serves to make the shadows starker. And where they pool the blackest is just at the curve of the road.

The boy that crouches in those shadows holds his breath and moves not a muscle. His fist clenches around a dagger that is held flat along one thigh; its edge carefully placed so it will not reflect any of the faint light.


On he comes, this man, and still no sign does he make that he is on his guard. As he moves the folds of his dark cloak reveal the pommel of a sword at his side, yet that is darkened somewhat by the murky night air, and his hands rest interlocked behind him at the moment.

He comes soon to the bend in the road where the boy waits, hiding.


Toby waits... waits... the man comes nearer. It almost seems that each footstep he takes lands with a resounding echo, though in truth, he makes little noise at all. And still the boy holds still and silent , until at last the traveller has moved a little past him. Then he uncoils and leaps at the man's back; the knife blade glittering in the thin pale light cast by a distant lamp. The bushes spring back after his passing, their branches clattering together; and the boy stabs upwards towards the Ranger's back.


Yet all for naught, however, for Rangers have uncanny instincts, if rarely shown they be. The moment he hears the bushes just behind him stir the man spins around to meet the oncoming attack and finds the boy almost upon him. With a quick swing of his arm he attempts to knock the oncoming knife out of the way, and with the same motion grab the wrist, sling the boy to the earth and hold him in that position. Should the attempt work, the lad will surely be face down in the middle of the road, a Ranger's knee in his back to hold the pose.


Fingers hit by the hard-swinging arm loosen in spite of themselves, and the dagger goes spinning into the dusty road. A fierce and unforgiving grip latches around Toby's arm - something above the wrist, and the boy is thrown to the ground. Almost sobbing with frustration, he swings his other hand towards the dimly-seen face as he falls, but something heavy and hard is rammed into his back; and all his struggling comes to naught. Except possibly a bloody nose, a number of bruises and a wrenched arm.


The move works, yet as he falls the boy claws at Strider's face and manages to wrench a few stray strands of hair from his head. In the end, though, that is the last opportunity to harm the man that he shall receive.

"Knives from behind, is it?" says the Ranger, pulling back on Toby's wrist so that his knee is buried further into the boy's back, rendering him completely immobile. "And what would bring you to such a pass? It has not worked out in your favor, you see... Bird Boy, is it? From the Pony?"


Hot tears spill from the lad's eyes, mingling with the hot blood that gushes from his nose to form a puddle in the dirt and stone of the road. They are tears of rage and helplessness, and not a little fear; but how could the man kneeling on his back know this? Save that Toby has not relaxed in the slightest; though he can barely move and his captured arm quivers with the strain. "Not," he manages in a gargled voice. And, "goud't ... hurt you... other way."


Strider's grip relaxes a pinch to bring easier speaking from the boy's lips, but his voice is no less stern and he would still be unable to escape should he try. The strength of the Ranger is unmatched by any in this village, certainly.

"What were you trying to say? Speak! I will do no further harm to you if you shall tell me what this was about, and swear never to do such a thing again."


A hoarse panting stirs the small puddle of blood and water beneath Toby's head. "...lie to me..." He manages somehow to spit defiance and furious despair out with the words. "Said, couldn't... stop you... any other way." The ragged intake of breath hisses a little as various bones and muscles make their complaints known. "Had to... Tath..." He abruptly goes limp, dropping his head to the muddy ground and falling silent.


"Stop me from what?" questions Strider, becoming more perturbed. "Who told you to do this? Tath? Who is Tath? Answer me!" The Ranger bends his elbow so that his forearm now rests upon his back. His knee remains in position so that the boy cannot move. His hold has not relented as yet.


"M'sister," comes a weary reply. "She didn't tell me..." he is silent for a few moments, breathing. "... to do nothing. Doesn't know." Toby's eyes have fallen shut, his face is very pale in the darkness and his quiet voice hardly louder than a whisper. "Stop you... killing birds and maybe... people." The clouds overhead are stirred by some high wind, for all the air below is still, yet they move ponderously through the dark night. Still no moon shows. "And.. so... you won't stop me."


"I do not kill those who do not deserve it," says Strider, quietly. Still the clamp which is his knee holds the boy to the ground, and does not show any sign of relenquishing its current pressure. The moon casts an eerie shadow as he shifts Toby's position underneath him and steers his head away from the pool of blood that has accumulated. "And though you no doubt have courage," he continues, "you were foolish to attack me, whether you think it or not. Do you really think you would be able to kill me? Do you even know that I deserve it? What have I done, boy? What have you seen me do? I have killed no birds. I do not kill if it can be helped."


A gasp of pain is all Toby's response to his head being dragged out of danger of drowning. He makes no more attempts to escape, or even resist whatever man-handling Strider feels like handing out. "Didn't know. Might have, if't was enough... of surprise. Saw the birds... myself." The stones used to pave this road may have been smoothed off, but there are a remarkable number of sharp edges remaining; and each of them pokes un-ignorably into the boy's limp body. "You'd try to stop me and I gotta kill 'im. Only," the same desolation of hopelessness, only without any of the anger, drags at his voice. "Couldn't even scratch you, what's the use... of trying? Tath..." He gives up.


"Kill who? Tath? Who is Tath?" Strider questions again. "Is he the one who has been killing the birds? Is he who you have to kill?" He begins to rise to his feet, pulling Toby up with him.


A wary glimmer enters Toby's eyes as Strider hauls him to his feet and continues demanding to know who Tath is. "No," he says. His gaze goes to where his knife lies glimmering in the moonlight, but he makes no attempt to retrieve it. "I'm gonna kill the guy that hurt her," he says at last.


"Then you think I am he?" Strider questions soon after. "What would make you suspect me? I have done nothing. I have not been to this village in a year's time." He notices the knife, and he also notices that Toby's gaze wanders thither. "I think I shall take that with me when I let you go," he muses aloud.


Toby's face tightens and his voice turns desperate, though he tries to hide it. "No," he says, pleads. "Please... I can't..." Something of a sullen anger shuts off the words and he clamps his mouth shut, opening it finally to answer the man's question. Or one of them. "No, I don't think it was you; but .. he, they said you would try to stop me. And since you was witching them birds too... " he stops again. "If I killed you first, they'd stop dying and you couldn't stop me either." Blood and dirt color the boy's face, around scrapes and bruises - but even they cannot hide the furious hopeless rage.


"I witched no birds," answers the Ranger, becoming angry in his turn. "And I do not know who has been poisoning your mind, but you had best rid yourself of these folk who lie into your ear." He looks upward, then back to Toby, and with a sigh shakes his head.

"Give me your word that you will not attack me again, and I shall let you go," he reiterates.


"Wouldn't do no good," Toby mutters. "Couldn't hit you if'n I tried. But..." Again he looks to the dagger, and dire necessity loosens his tongue to ask again. "Don't take it, I won't try to stab you no more... please."


The grip on Toby's arm is released, and Strider backs away from the boy slowly. "Now... Go clean yourself up. And try not to attack people on dark streets at night from now on." His gaze remains long upon the lad.


With a startled look, distrustful of the man not changing his mind, Toby edges sideways; then stoops to scoop up his dagger and stuff it into a sheath that hangs at his belt. And limping, he heads down the road towards the Pony, scuttling into the shrubs at the side of the road before he arrives at the light near the entrance, and vanishing around the back of the Inn.