================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Mon Aug 16 22:34:15 2004
Bree time: Midnight 1:42 AM on Monday of Winter - December 13,1432
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent Moon
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Breelands Weather
The midnight winter air is cold and dry around you. The night sky is cloud-filled and gloomy. The moon is above the horizon and in its waning crescent phase.

Bree, Outside the West-gate
To the east and north lies the village of Bree which is nestled under the western flank of Bree-hill, a grassy mass against the skyline. The East Road crosses by a causeway, but where it pierces the hedge, it is barred by a great gate. Night has fallen, and it's impossible to distinguish much outside of Bree itself. The town looks welcoming from here as lights twinkle from the hillside in Bree.


The gate is firmly shut. Overhead, a pale crescent moon shines fitfully between tattered grey clouds and touches the ground with fickle fingers, casting long black shadows everywhere she shines. A bit of darkness detaches itself soundlessly from the hedge-wall and darts towards a nearby tree. Smaller than a man, that figure, still larger than a hobbit. In the brief light, it seems to be a lad whose bare feet are no whiter than the patches of dirty snow on the ground.


From the west, a soft clop-clopping tattoos on the Old East Road, growing louder slowly. A string of six Rohirrim horses trot toward the Bree gates, and on the lead horse sits Renulf, bundled in an ecru tunic. The merchant's hair is the most strange thing about him as it is dark brown with blond roots; and by the dim moonlight, it looks as if the man has a blond mohawk.


Toby freezes at the sound, becoming little more than a bit of tree trunk himself, though strangely seperated from the main. Still and quiet, he watches the horses that come towards Bree in the night... finally, "Gate's shut," he says gruffly.


Renulf, from atop his horse, looks down at the man. "So 'tis," he says. "If it's too heavy for ya, I can come down an' help. I'm sure we can get it open between the two of us. Ya do look a bit tired, I must say." One of the horses near the back whinnies impatiently.


"Guard should open it," Toby informs him somewhat insolently. "Pound on it a bit." His eyes fly towards the protesting horse, then return to Renulf.


"Very well." Renulf attempts to dismount from his steed, but instead, his foot hooks in the stirrup, causing him to fall flat on his face on the ground.


A muffled snicker joins the whisper of the chill night breeze. Toby comes slowly out from his sanctuary and pads towards the man. In the light, such as it is, of the failing moon, he is but a half-grown boy and none too tall either. A safe distance away yet, he stops and eyes the merchant .. and his entourage. "Need any help with them horses?" he asks at last, adding, "None too steady on yer feet; been drinking, have you? Shouldn't ought to do that, there's robbers and such-like on the roads betimes."


"No, I've not been drinking," says Renulf tartly as he pulls himself together, stands to his feet, and brushes the dust off his cloak. "But my stirrup is broken, and I have not had a chance to get it mended. I would appreciate your help with the horses though. How old are you, Son?"


Toby answers belligerantly. "Old enough." Minutes pass in slow silence before he adds, the words pulled from reluctant lips and cut off sharp as soon as they are spoken, "16. Why?" Still he makes no move towards either man or beasts, asking instead, "Gonna pay me?"


"You look about my brother's age.. back home," says Renulf slowly. He blinks. Reaching into his cloak, the merchant pulls out a few silver pennies and holds them out for the boy. "I am Renulf. What is your name?"


Toby's eyes widen at the glint of the money and he practically snatches them from Renulf's hand, squirrelling them away somewhere within the ragged folds of his clothing. "Toby. Hey!" he shouts towards the gate. "Open up in there! Where're you from, then?" he asks, dropping his tone again and moving towards one of the horses.

(OOC) You say, "You just bought yourself a friend. ;)" (OOC) Renulf grins.

Renulf releases the money, surprised at the sudden reaction. "Eh, I am from Rohan -- far, far away," he says to Toby, giving the reins to the boy. "Toby is a wonderful name."


A door slams open and a low grumbling grows louder as someone stumps up to the gate from the other side of the high wall. It creaks protestingly as it is shoved slowly open, the long vertical crack growing wider and wider until it is large enough to admit one horse. "Come along then," a grouchy sleep-fogged voice says. "Hurry it up. Middle of the night, don't you know?"


Renulf moves to the rear of the train of horses and grasps the last horse's bridle, following Toby.


The boy takes the reins, reaching a gentle hand up to the horse's head and leading it towards the open gate. "Nh," he grunts. "Ain't never heard of it." Must not be of any account, adds his tone. "Better 'n my other name," he tells this man, this wonderfully wealthy and generous man. "You heading for the Pony? The Inn, that is...?" Once they are all inside, the gatekeeper begins the laborious task of hauling the gate to again and the same tortured shrieks grace the night.


"Yes, the Inn," says Renulf, guiding the last horse inside after Toby. "What is your other name? You make me curious." He pauses to brush his multi-colored hair away from his eyes.


"Nuthin," Toby mutters. "What're you here for, with all them horses?" The hoofbeats of slow animals clop quietly down the cobbled streets as he leads them towards the Inn.


"To sell my wool cloth," replies Renulf. "I had intended to sell my horses as well, but now I think I shall use them to carry pipeweed to my homeland. Excellent stuff."


The boy nods, unseen in the shadows he passes through. "Pony's there," he says after a time, jerking his chin towards a large multi-storied building ahead of them. "Stables are beyond, through the yard. I work there some."


Renulf reaches into his cloak again. "Will you make sure that my horses and my goods are safe and not stolen?" the merchant asks Toby as he holds out two more silver pennies.

Renulf says, "And will you see them to the stables?"


This money vanishes even faster than the other had, if possible, and Toby nods again. "Aye. You don' want t'see them yerself?" He shrugs, not waiting for an answer, and nods his head towards the Inn's entrance. "Rooms in there, Barley will see to ya." The string of animals files through the archway and vanishes beyond it, the boy at their head chivvying them now and then in a soft voice.