================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Sun May 02 19:06:59 2004
Bree time: Mid Morning 9:20 AM on Trewsday of Winter - February 1,1432
Moon Phase: First Quarter Moon
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Breelands Weather
The mid morning winter air is cold and dry around you. The sky above is a glorious pale blue.

Stables
Stall after stall lines the walls of this small outbuilding on the south side of the Prancing Pony, confirming that this building indeed serves as a stable. Heavy solid wood, practical though not beautiful, makes up the construction of the beams and gates that keep the beasts securely locked inside. A low wooden trough runs through each of the stalls so as to provide fresh water at all times, and bales of hay rest in the corner of each stall. Two large windows at the back of the stables lie propped open with a chunk of wood, affording fresh air to the animals as well as their owners and the stable hobbit who cares for the place. The doors currently stand wide open, though a heavy iron bolt can be seen from the inside, making it fairly evident that the stable can be protected from things on the outside if necessary.


Despite the relative niceness of the day (it is neither snowing nor raining), the windows and door are shut; and the stable is warm and dark. A ragged boy lugs a pail of water down the narrow aisle towards one stall - its occupant thrusts a velvety nose out and snuffles. "Gerrout you," Toby mutters, pushing the horse's head away and heaving the bucket up. Water pours out in an unbroken stream and splashes into a trough hidden in the dark interior of the stall, and the animal begins unrepentantly to chew on a curl of rough brown hair.


Suddenly the sound of approaching footsteps mingled with the clop of hooves rings through the courtyard, and soon after the door to the stables swings wide.

"Hello?" says a man's voice, and the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man can be seen just outside the door.

Toby finishes pouring out his bucket, then bends to set it down, giving his head a jerk to free it from the inquisitive horse. "Help you?" he says reluctantly, sullenly.. at any rate, there is no eager leaping to service here. "Here, shut the door, it's cold out there and Bob'll yell."


The man steps inside, and though the dim light does clarify his facial features a small bit they are still hard to make out with a large hood over his head.

"May I at least bring in my horse? This /is/ a stable, isn't it?"


"Aye," Toby says ungraciously. "Come on then. You be wanting a stall for 'im? There ain't much. This one over here's not being used." He jerks his head over his shoulder. "2 bits extra for grain."


"Fine," says the other, and pushes the hood back from his head. His cloak flutters behind him as he turns to fetch the horse, and after a short few moments later the beast is completely inside.

"If you'll see him to his stall, I'll shut the door now," says Seregorn in Toby's general direction.


Gentle hands reach up and grasp the reins, and Toby turns to lead the horse towards his newest home. Despite his unpleasant manner, the boy seems well acquainted with animals. Swiftly, economically, the horse is ensconsed in the stall, a portion of hay slung into a wooden manger and the half-door closed.

Turning to lean against the wall, Toby surveys his client. "Where you from, then?" he asks.


"I have no home," says Seregorn as he reaches into a leather pouch hanging from his belt. From it he draws the necessary coinage and hands it to Toby.

"You've never heard of a Ranger?"


The money disappears into some inner recess in the boy's clothing. "No. What's a ranger?" Abruptly his face hardens and he steps forward, peering at the man's face intently. "Where were you along about fall? Say 3-4 months past, " he demands, one hand remaining hidden among the tattered cloth that wraps his waist.


Seregorn eyes Toby suspiciously, and a single eyebrow raises questioningly. He answers the question, regardless. "I was east of here, in the wild... though I fail to see what business that would be of yours, boy. As far as what a Ranger 'is'... Ask your parents, or Barliman. They would know." He glances at the hidden hand, "What's behind your back?"


"East..." Toby repeats slowly, relaxing a little and bringing his hand around to hold it out, empty. "Nothing," he says truculuntly, then adds after a pause, "I'm looking for a man. But he'd been to the west. West and south a bit." Brown eyebrows pinch into a scowl and he mutters something beneath his breath, perhaps too low to be heard. "...kill 'im, I will..."


Seregorn's other suspicious brow raises, and he simply shakes his head. "May be none of my business, but why would you be looking for such a man?"


Unfriendly angry eyes survey the man, but finally the boy replies. "He hurt my sister. I'm gonna find him and then I'm gonna kill him." A horse snorts softly in the dimness and sucks water audibly from a bucket.


"Hmmmmmmm...."

The man stares at the boy for a moment, bringing his hand to his chin. "And how do you plan on doing that?" he asks. "Have you ever killed anyone before? Have you ever tried?"


Toby lifts his chin. "However I have to. I have a sword, it ain't any too long, but it's sharp enough I reckon." A faint hint of defensiveness enters his voice to be instantly hidden beneath a mask of belligerence. "No. What of it?"


"The task may prove harder than you think," says Seregorn, turning to leave. "Having a sharp sword is only half the fight. You must learn how to use it ere you can kill with it, and even then it may prove a difficult task to undertake."


He walks toward the door. "I leave you to your bitter thoughts. Take good care of my horse."


"I can use it!" Toby all but shouts, almost instantly lowering his voice and turning his head to scan the length of the stable. The animals seem undisturbed, but he turns to walk along the aisle, peering into each stall in turn. Seregorn's parting injunction is ignored.