================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Fri Jul 30 09:06:21 2004
Bree time: Early Morning 8:18 AM on Highday of Autumn - October 21,1432
Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent Moon
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Breelands Weather
The early morning autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is clear and the sunlight shines brightly.

Courtyard
An open air courtyard is enclosed in the center of the Prancing Pony's compound. The yard is ringed in by the north and south wing of the Pony, and the eastern section of the building, which is set back into Bree-hill. On the fourth side bordering this yard is an archway, beyond which lies the Great East Road. The stables, which comprise the lower level of the south wing are accessed through a set of large double doors.


The sound of water gushing, splashing, slopping into buckets. Horses stamp their feet and snort softly. The first searching rays of the sun reach across the distant hills and lay gentle fingers on the small town of Bree; and amid all this, a lad appears from around a corner. He is laden down with two filled buckets; the muscles of his arms stand out sharply below the rolled up sleeves of his once-white shirt. There is a small dotted scab-line across one temple and yet another bruise adorns his cheekbone.


Sitting on a chair near the archway is a tall man, his long legs crossed comfortably. A pipe is on his mouth, and every now and then he bellows a cloud of grayish smoke from it... and sometimes it's not a cloud, but a smokering that comes from the Ranger's mouth. He seems oblivious to everything that goes on around him, but appearances can be deceiving. Henleg has not forgotten the words spoken by Toby and the stranger on Bree-hill, and thus he sneakily watches over the young man.


Water splashes over the rim of one over-full bucket, and slops onto the ground, as Toby freezes mid-step. His eyes widen, then dart around the courtyard. A hobbit hurries from the stables through the archway, giving Henleg a distrustful glance as he passes. No one else seems to be around, and Toby vanishes into the dubious safety of the stables with his buckets, where a minute later, water can again be heard splashing out.


Henleg nonchalantly stands up, slowly walking towards the stables too. The lit pipe is still on his lips, while the Ranger approaches the door. His tall frame is outlined in it a moment later, and he leans to a side as he watches the inside.


The ranger's shadow darkens the doorway, but Toby resolutely refuses to look around. He moves along the row of stalls, slopping water out for each occupant, then sets his buckets down and picks up a brush. The nearest half-door is opened (the farthest one from the door), and the boy slips inside, pulling it shut behind him.


Henleg smiles at this cat-and-mouse game the young Toby intends to play. His long legs carry him swiftly to the door Toby has closed behind him, and he politely knocks twice.


A minute passes in silence, then another. A wiry brown arm moves slowly along the flank of the pony and at last Toby looks up amid a flurry of hairs. "Whaddya want?" he says in a decidedly unwelcoming tone of voice.


"Well, I wanted to see how competent you are with horses, young man", the Ranger replies, as he watches Toby intently. "I see you are hardworking, and I was thinking about asking you to tend for my horse", he adds, getting the pipe now out of his mouth.


"Well, I wanted to see how competent you are with horses, young man", the Ranger replies, as he watches Toby intently. "I see you are hardworking, and I was thinking about asking you to tend for my horse", he adds, getting the pipe now out of his mouth. "But of course, if you're not wiling to earn some extra money, that's fine with me", he says, as he regards the boy with his grey eyes.


"If he's here, I take care of it already," is the ungracious reply. The long steady strokes of the brush hesitate, then continue on and the pony leans into the currying. Long strands of hay dangle from the corners of its mouth. "How much?" the boy asks after some more time has passed; his face is mostly hidden in the shadows, turned away from the door as he is.


"It would depend on your work, young man", the Ranger replies to the boy, as he puts the pipe back in his mouth. He stays silent for a moment, puffing the pipe slowly, then gets it out of his mouth and then... a smokering comes forth from it. Yes! A beautiful smokering, perfect and grayish in hue, which lazily drifts upward. "If my horse likes you, then we can talk about money, young master", he adds, with a smile both on his face and in his voice.


"Y'can ask Bob about my work. Ain't nobody complained yet," Toby says, moving farther from the door, and beginning on the animal's long tail. His hands are deft and gentle, in surprising contrast to his sulky face and defiant voice. "I ain't doing nothing less'n I get paid for it."


"How much do you get paid for your job at the Pony, Toby?", the Ranger then asks. His attitude is one of friendliness and calm, as the Ranger does not want to upset the already surly boy.


Hostile eyes lift, gleaming in the darkness, to study Henleg's face for an instant. "Enough," he says shortly. Then, with a thread of avarice coming to the fore, "What'd you need done for 'im?"


Henleg's smile broadens, for indeed the young man is quick and wily. "Ohhh, nothing major, Toby, I assure you that... just some cleaning and brushing, that's all", he replies, as he takes again the pipe out of his mouth, puts it out, and then puts it carefully inside a pocket. "How much do you charge for that?"


A sly calculating glace slides towards the ranger. "Five pennies," Toby says at last, casually. "For a day." The tail is surely smooth and spotless by now, but the boy continues to tease non-existant snarls out.


"Ooooohhh, ain't that a bit too high, master Toby?", the Ranger replies to the boy, warmth still in his voice. "I was planning on paying one penny for cleaning him, one for brushing him... and one more if you were nice to the horse", he adds.


Toby shrugs one dimly-seen shoulder. "Four then," he says, as if he doesn't care. "I'll water 'im too." Finally, the lad gives up on the pony's tail; slapping one haunch to shift it aside, and slipping around to begin currying again. Is he nice to horses? This one seems to think so, by the calmness in its eyes as it lazily lips up more hay.


The Ranger regards the boy for a moment, and then he nods. "A deal, then", he says, extending his right hand to Toby. "We'll shake hands on four copper pennies for treating my horse nicely, watering him, cleaning him, and then brushing him", he adds. "I will not pay unless the job's done to my complete satisfaction".


The boy's eyes lift to stare at the ranger's hand. Then they turn to what can be seen of the stables beyond the man's shoulder. Time passes... no one else seems to be here; no noises, no movement. Slowly, reluctantly, he stretches out his own to shake. "Where is he?"


"I have him just outside the Pony", the Ranger replies as he catches the boy's hand into his big, calloused, browned hand, and he shakes it firmly, pumping it twice. "I shall bring him momentarily, so you can tend to his needs. You're a good man, master Toby", he adds as he releases the boy's hand and makes back towards the entrance of the stable.


Toby snatches his hand back swiftly. "No," he says hurriedly. "I'll come out there." Straw rustles as he slides out from behind the peacefully-eating pony, hinges creak, and the boy follows the ranger from the stables; brush still in hand.