Breelands Weather
The dawn summer air is very hot and dry around you. Rain pours down from the night sky, drenching all around you. The moon is above the horizon and in its last quarter phase.

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Tue Feb 25 17:57:16 2003
Bree time: Dawn on Mersday of Summer - July 26,1428
Moon Phase: Last Quarter Moon
===============================================================================

Outside the South Gate
To the west and the north lies the village of Bree, chief seat of the Bree-lands. The town is nestled under the western flank of Bree-hill, a sizable mass against the skyline. The Great East Road crosses by a causeway into Bree, which is surrounding by a large hedge. Where the road pierces the hedge, a large wall, thirty feet wide and fifteen high has been erected. The stones are set well, with little mortar, but obvious care. Inset in the middle of the wall, under an arching row of stones, is a sturdy wooden door with two windows: one high, one low.
The shroud of night has wrapped itself about the Bree-lands. The upper reaches of Bree-hill stand dark and silent above the hedge and gate, save for the occassional twinkle of light from house or hobbit-hole. Heading away from Bree, the Road appears to run in a straight line to the south.


The eastern sky is lightening visibly despite the tattered cloud cover. And through one veiled hole a hint of pinkish dawn can even be seen. But mostly all there is to be seen is a thin silver-grey curtain and the dark shadowy bulk of the wall slit by a darker line where the door stands shut. All is quiet, save for the gentle patter of rain, until a voice raises in exasperation.

"But it /is/ dawn. See?"

A lower rumble answers and the crack of blackness widens as the door is pushed to. A slim figure insinuates itself through the crack and out, and then stops. One hand raises to brush wet curly hair from her face, the other clutches tightly to a basket. And Tathar stands barefoot in the muddy road, looking first one direction and then the other; as if, now that she is here, she isn't sure what to do next.


There is a smallish tree standing next to the road, filled with rich green foliage. In a nook in this tree lies Toldo, one arm behind his head, the other hand holding his pipe. He is idly staring off towards the east, whilst occasionally puffing away on his pipe. At first, as Tathar leaves the town of Bree behind her, Toldo simply watches bemusedly, a smile on his face, not currently attracting her attention. Being a hobbit, hiding comes naturally to him, and he is able to do so very effectively and silently.


At last the girl seems to make up her mind and she begins to march determinedly down the road. Her path takes her past a small green tree and she lifts a hand to brush her fingers through the leaves as she walks. Thin rivules of water glisten on the dark material of her cloak.


As Tathar goes past his tree, Toldo smiles benevolently, and silently drops down out of it. He takes a handful of steps foward, to stand only a short way behind Tathar, and says out loud; "Top of the morning to you Miss Tathar!" He holds his hands behind his back and a beaming expression on his face. His pipe he left up in the tree, for the moment, so his hands are free. His cloak is completely drenched, as it just recieved a thorough bathing from his descent through the tree.


Tathar starts, a squeak hardly loud enough to be heard comes from parted lips and she drops her basket. Tilting over onto its side, the hinged top swings open revealing.. nothing. Fortunately for the girl, it was empty.

Swinging around, she stares at Toldo for a minute and then begins to scold him furiously. "You scared me! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, I thought you were a bandit!" A grin, at first unwilling, tugs at her lips as she begins to calm down and curiosity replaces the fright in her voice. "Where were you anyways? I didn't see you..."


Toldo is caught a little off balance (not physically, but mentally) as his little joke has the negative effect on the teenager. He says genuinely, "Oh, I'm so sorry Miss Tathar, I didn't mean to scare you like that, I'm so sorry, oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Sorry!" He mumbles off, ever apologizing. As the smile returns to Tathar's face, he also smiles. "I was just up in that tree Miss!" He exclaims proudly. "Did you not see me?"


"No. I didn't see you." Tathar peers at the tree she has just walked under. "It's so small... were you really up there? And I didn't see you or hear you either!" She shakes her head, squatting down to pick up her basket and straightening again. An impish grin brings sparkles to her dark eyes and she says slyly, "Since you scared me so, you should come with me and protect me from /real/ bandits."


Toldo laughs deeply, as is his wont as a hobbit, and says, "Oh aye Miss Tathar, us hobbits are very good at hiding you know." He looks up at the tree and sees his pipe, its contents falling out of its bole and onto the tree it is resting on. One stray ember has fallen onto one of the drier leaves, and the leaf has started to curl up and blacken, letting off a lot of smoke as its waxy cuticle burns up. Toldo panics a little, and tugs off his cloak. He begins beating at the leaf, which only results in fanning the slow burning, and it catches onto the nearby leaves. He takes a couple of steps backwards, a rather fearful look on his face.


The slow drizzling rain slides off the outer leaves which are both wet enough to keep any fire from spreading far, and thick enough to shelter the twiggy undergrowth into dryness. Tathar's gaze follows Toldo's but she does not see what he does, and she stares at him in mystification as he suddenly strips off his cloak and starts flailing at the tree with it. "What..." she starts to say, stepping closer when the thin acrid smell of smoke catches at her nose. She stares back up at the grey dripping sky and back to the burning leaves in complete incomprehension.


After a couple of seconds, the rain does the job that Toldo so miserably failed to do, and stops the spreading red glow. Toldo looks at it; a flummoxed look invading his face. He shakes his head, his eyebrows raised, and says; "Oh well, a waste of pipeweed that, thought no other harm done I suppose." He reaches up, stepping up on a knot near the bole of the tree, and takes his pipe down, eyeing it suspiciously. The only remains of the fire is a few curls of black smoke still rising, which are quickly dispersed by the rain. He laughs lightly to himself, and shows his pipe to Tathar, "See," he points to it, "The weed fell out and set a-fire to the leaves there." He shrugs, and looks down the road. "Anyway," he says, returning to a more pragmatic attitude, "Did you still want me to walk with you? Just out of interest Miss, if you don't my asking of course, where is it you're going so early in the morning?"


"I didn't think it was dry enough out for /anything/ to burn," says the girl still staring with fascination at the small charred leaf. But his question brings her attention away. "Oh," she says happily, flourishing her basket. "I'm going to pick some flowers for my mother. And I had to leave early or I won't get back before she notices." She glances down the road and then back to Toldo and the tiniest note of apprehension filters into her voice. "Will you come with me? Please? I mean.. you don't have to. If you don't want to, or if you're busy or something, but..." She looks back down the road again, her eyes lingering on a certain hillock not far away.


"Well Miss Tathar?" Toldo says, a stern look on his face. "I'm not sure, I am very busy." He shakes his head, tutting quietly to himself. "And it is really rather early for you to be out on your own." He closes his eyes, and puts his chin in the air, looking very disapprovingly at Tathar. Finally, he can hold it no longer, and he bursts into laughter. "Of course I'll go with you Miss Tathar! I've got nothing better to do. I wouldn't mind picking some flowers myself, just to go around the hole as it were, if you follow. What do you say?" He says, flashing a grin at the girl.


Tathar's face falls ludicrously at the hobbit's first words, and disappointment fills her dark eyes the further on he goes. Her curly head droops and her gaze falls to her mud-spattered feet. "Oh," she is beginning to say, "I'm sorry..." when a bellow of laughter brings her eyes darting back to his and a tentative grin to her lips. "You were teasing me!" she accuses him and turns to start down the road, her basket swinging over one arm. "Do you know," she says chattily. "I met the oddest man the other day. He wore an enormous huge cloak in the middle of the day - and it was HOT - and he said he knew someone who was even older than Granny Bea. I think he was making fun of me though. Because she wasn't a hobbit, he said, and I'm sure otherwise Granny is the oldest person in town." Bare toes squish a little in the mud as she walks.


"Older than Granny Bea?" says Toldo, shocked, "Well I never, an odd chap indeed!" He says, a little giggle escaping. "What did this fellow look like?" He asks. The hobbit begins to walk alongside Tathar, his arms reaching out to touch the foliage surrounding the path as he walks past it.


"I don't know. He had this cloak on all over him. His head too." Tathar skips a little, raising her face to the brightening sky - and incidentally, the softly-falling rain. The ragged gaps in the clouds have grown larger, a bit of clear sky actually showing here and there. "But there was something funny about his eyes." She shivers a little, trying to remember and shrugs. "I don't remember. But he had the most beautifullest ring I've ever seen." Suddenly she stops mid-skip and turns towards him, demanding, "Do you think I could make rings and things like that?"


Toldo grins, and continues walking. "Oh, I do like Bree, but we do get some funny characters here don't we eh Miss?" He shakes his head, and thinks about the eyes. "What do you mean, 'funny' eyes? And a ring? As for making your own Miss, I'm not the person to ask about that, you want to ask someone into metalwork, like, say the blacksmith I suppose, but, what sort of ring was he wearing?" he looks genuinely perplexed, and stops a few paces ahead of Tathar.


"I.. don't know," Tathar repeats. "They were... I don't know," she says again, beginning to sound frustrated. "I can't remember. Just.. funny. Somehow." She half-runs a few steps to catch up again. "And I didn't mean for me, I meant..." her words trail off as unformed dreams catch at her eyes. "Someone must make the things that people wear.... why couldn't it be me? He said I could.." She shakes herself then, and laughs a little self-consciously, grasping at his last question with relief. "It was big and sort of gold and silver colored. With something on the top, like for sealing up letters and such."


"Hm. He sounds like the oddest chap that ever came to Bree or beyond, if you ask me. When did he come? I suppose this sort of thing should really be reported to the Breeguard so they can sort it all out." he thinks a moment, then adds, "Well, we can sort it out." He goes on walking again, evidently thinking about something. Presently, he says, in a slightly lighter tone, "Well, I'm sure anybody could make stuff like that, though I'm not the one as you should ask. I'm good with wood, and natural things you might say, but when it comes to metal, I've no experience at all Miss. Sorry I can't help you more there."


As they near the fat lumpy rise of the hill her eyes had fallen on earlier, Tathar stops and turns off of the road. "Let's go this way," she calls over her shoulder. True enough, there are a few clumps of straggly daisies and brown-eyed yellow flowers in the creases of the slope; but surely they are not nice or plentiful enough to occasion much interest. But Tathar is already off the road.


A young hobbit comes running down the road from Bree, shouting, "Mr. Toldo! Mr. Toldo!" He finally approaches Toldo, and spurts out, very out of breath, "Mr. Toldo sir.............Old Harry said he.............saw you coming down this..........way sir, and...................Mr. Potts wanted.......me to fetch you, on account of the fact that...there's been some sort of problem at his hole....He asked me to come and get you..but he wouldn't say why sir. I think you should go." When Toldo can finally get a word in edgeways, he says, "Goodness gracious me, whatever could have happened?" His lips purse, as he thinks. "Tim, you stay here, and look after Miss Tathar here, while I go see what all this is about." He then walks over to where Tathar is standing and says, "Well Miss, I'm sorry I couldn't stay for longer and look for some nicer flowers, but, well Miss, I'm sure we could go some other time, if that's what you'd like Miss. Goodbye!" He says, and begins to walk off at a fair pace back in the direction of Bree.


Tathar's head shoots up at the shouting and she swivels around on her heels to watch the youngster running towards them. "Yes..." she says to Toldo's retreating back, and then turns interested eyes towards Tim. But that youth has taken off as well. "Sorry," floats back along the road. "I have to go back. You'll be fine..."