Post by Tallaith on Jul 20, 2010 14:31:16 GMT -5
I'm excited to say one of our kinnies has found a way to get my idea for a plot involving the mysterious Sharkey off the ground. While Cay asks Willhum IC not to ask her friends to help him, of course I encourage anyone who's interested to step in! This is the chat log that lays out what Willhum is planning to do and what Cay's, and LT's, part in it will be. Enjoy!
((Cay is at the kin house when the "troll" from beneath the bridge approaches her to have a little talk.))
Willhum says, 'Hoy, there.'
Ceallian smiles slightly. "You startled me."
Willhum hops off the horse, slapping on its rear to send it on its way. 'Was looking for you. Remember me? Met at the party.'
Ceallian says, 'For me? Aye, I remember you well enough.'
Willhum says, 'Good.'
Ceallian smiles politely.
Willhum says, 'Look, I tried others, they dont seem to care. Frankly, they dont care for me because I'm... an -outsider-, I suppose, ya?'
Ceallian says, 'Aye?'
Willhum crosses his arms over his chest. "I've.. noticed things, in my stay here."
Ceallian says, 'Things, sir? If you mean the yard, I have a gardner hired to take care of the grass! I am sorry if it bothers you.'
Willhum says, 'Ever hear the name 'Sharkey'?'
Ceallian stands very still. "Is he a gardener?"
Willhum says, 'Lets just say folk dont normally say his name with a happy tone.'
Ceallian lowers her voice. "We should not speak of such things out here."
Willhum smirks. "No place is safe, is it? Alright, lets head on in, then."
Ceallian gestures at the great hall. "Make yourself welcome, sir."
((The pair heads inside.))
Willhum says, 'Uh huh.' He hangs his cloak and sword-belt.
Ceallian stokes the fires. "It gets drafty here, even in the summer."
Willhum says, 'Let me be frank, then, about who I am and what I do.'
Ceallian nods shortly. "If you please."
Willhum crosses his arms over his chest. "I was sent by Gondor as part of a few envoys, to find out what I can about who can help us. Dale, I fear, is not available. And Bree is preoccupied with the Witch-King."
Ceallian smiles slightly. "Sir, I am a simple lass. I know very little of such matters. Why are you telling me?"
Willhum says, 'I have been living here, in the Shire, for a couple of months now, under the bridge just outside. The Shire is under attack.'
Ceallian bites her lower lip, thinking for a moment. 'Under the bridge, sir?'
Willhum says, 'Someone in the south, this.. Sharkey.. is hiring men to come up here and mess with the good people.' He grunts, and says nothing.
Ceallian says, 'Sir, I have heard as much myself. I have lived in the Shire for almost three years now.'
Willhum says, 'And yet no one has done anything to prevent this slow invasion!'
Ceallian says, 'I think perhaps everyone who does not wish to hide has listened to the tales.' She shakes her head. "Those who are doing something to help are called farther and farther from the Bounds."
Willhum says, 'Then you must train those that are still here. The women, the children, the old.. any who can hold a blade could be of help!'
Ceallian says, 'They could be, sir, but they will not be. Do you know much of hobbits?'
Willhum says, 'They are but a myth back in Gondor.'
Ceallian says, 'Hobbits are quiet. They think of comfort and home firstly, sir. These are not the folks to fight an army.'
Willhum says, 'Then who will defend them, if not themselves? I am but one man, lady, and I am already doing all that I can!'
Ceallian says, 'There are the Bounders, sir, but mostly they just have very official-looking hats. They have no defense but the hopes that the rest of the world has overlooked them! Which is silly, now.'
Willhum says, 'Pointless. The Enemy has its eyes set on the Shire, for whatever reason. If they will not fight, Then I will! I will gather those that are willing, or able, to fight beside me!'
Ceallian nods again, this time looking thoughtfully away to the fire. "Sir, you are quite sharp to notice as much. Many travelers have missed it entirely."
Willhum says, 'I've had much time to think.'
Ceallian hides her smile behind her hand. "Beneath a bridge?"
Willhum says, 'When you people arent bothering me with your silly talk.' He grumbles, holding up the pin.
Ceallian peeks at him from beneath her eyelashes. "Ah. I see. You got it, then."
Willhum says, 'The mailman threw it at me, if thats what you mean.'
Ceallian smiles demurely. "Ah, handy fellow, he is. I shall give him a nice piece of pie next time we meet." She shakes her head in dismissal.
Willhum sighs. "I dont see why I came to you. Your a bard, not a warrior."
Ceallian says, 'Why are you telling me this, sir? Exactly. I am a player of songs and overall a fairly silly lass.'
Willhum says, 'Something makes me doubt that.'
Ceallian laughs. 'Aye, sir?'
Willhum says, 'For one, your hair is red. That isnt very common around here, more from the Rhohirrim to the south.'
Ceallian says, 'Well, sir, I am not from Bree-Land. At least my parents were not. But there are many travelers about on these roads of late.'
Willhum says, 'Indeed. I will ask no more, since you dont seem to want to tell me.'
Ceallian smiles sweetly. "Fair enough. Though if I can help you in some way, I shall try. Since this is my home.'
Willhum says, 'We all have our secrets. At any rate, I came mostly to ask for funding. To train, and pay, a small army.'
Ceallian says, 'F-funding? For.. an army?'
Willhum says, 'How else do we stop such an invasion?'
Ceallian says, 'But I do not even know you, sir. And despite this grand hall, I have no coin of my own to speak of.'
Willhum says, 'I see.'
Ceallian studies him intently as she drops her gaze to the floor, sweeping him with her eyes but making no sign of what she might see. 'Perhaps you have mistaken me for someone else, sir?'
Willhum crosses his arms over his chest again, chainmail jingling.
Ceallian says, 'Do you not wish to take that off? I am quite unarmed and no one else is here. It looks quite heavy.'
Willhum says, 'If you have any heart, if you care at all for the kind, innocent folk that dwell here, I know you will assist me. These folk truly accept your art, your music and lore. This is one of the few places in the world still free from the evil that is slowly spreading. But not for long. You may help me, or find some way to get these people to help themselves. But they must not be allowed to perish!'
Ceallian clasps her hands behind her back. She looks to the ceiling for quite some time in thought.
Willhum says, 'If I must stand and face an army alone, in just this rusting chainmail, I shall, For I would have known I had died protecting something pure and innocent. These folk mean no harm to anyone.'
Ceallian says, 'My companions are not warriors, sir, though some of them do travel a bit. And I have no money. But my own concern regarding Sharkey is great. I will help you, perhaps, if I am able. But I have no money. And I can only think of perhaps three people who may be of use.'
Willhum says, 'I can train those that I must, for I am a Man of war. I need men, soldiers, and the supplies to feed them.'
Ceallian shrugs, gesturing vaguely. "I can make a few biscuits." She laughs sheepishly.
Willhum nods seriously. "As many as possible."
Ceallian says, 'But as for providing men and what it would take to train them, I will be of no help.' She blinks. "Well then. I can also offer you the use of this house, though you may only want to.. practice after dark. The Shire is rich with gossips. And I want no trouble here.'
Willhum says, 'Very well. I train those who are willing here. If we need fight with stick, in cloth shirts, Then so be it.'
Ceallian says, 'After nightfall. And mind you do not track mud in on the stone floor. It is awful to get clean again.'
Willhum says, 'Hmh. Very well.'
Ceallian says, 'And if anyone asks... You are my... Cou-... bro-... How old are you?'
Willhum says, 'Nineteen seasons.'
Ceallian nods shortly. "Hmm. I already have a quite conspicuous cousin, and you do not look as if you are an Eorling. What will you tell peo-... Ah! You are the gardener!'
Willhum raises an eyebrow. 'The.. gardener.'
Ceallian says, 'If any of our neighbors ask, or folks around the village, how you know me, or why you live here, you are the gardener!'
Willhum says, 'Very well.'
Ceallian says, 'That means you have quite a bit of grass to cut, sir.'
Willhum grunts.
Ceallian says, 'Well? What else can I call you?'
Willhum says, 'Will. Willhum Rodetan is my full name, though I havent used it in forever.'
Ceallian wrinkles her nose. "A hobbit will not accept just 'Will.'"
Willhum says, 'Will is for the best, since it is short, and Bree-like. Well? Will that suffice?'
Ceallian says, 'No, sir, well.. yes. Yes. But no! You should have a reason for suddenly being here, I think!'
Willhum says, 'What do you mean, suddenly? I've been living beneath the bridge for a few months!'
Ceallian says, 'But... Do you want the neighbors to think I took you in out of charity? Go cut the grass!'
Willhum says, 'But what? Out of...?! Hmph!'
Ceallian nods, demurely turning her eyes to a nice spot on the floor about six inches from her toes. "I do not want them to pity you, sir."
Willhum says, 'Month of hunting bandits and orcs that come through the borders of the Shire, I finnaly find help.. And then I'm demoted to gardener!'
Ceallian says, 'Well, you could be a very heroic gardener, or do you want everyone to know that you are using my great hall to train an army to fight the Boss of the Shire?'
Willhum says, 'Very well, very well. But I'm moving out from under the bloody bridge!'
Ceallian says, 'Of course you are, sir. All of my hired help is welcome to stay here, free of charge. Though mind you, I do not have the coin to pay for a gardener. Room and board will have to be plenty.'
Willhum says, 'Free of charge, except what you deduct from their payments.'
Ceallian says, 'Payments?'
Willhum says, 'Yes, very well. I dont expect to earn money anyways.'
Ceallian says, 'Aye, sir, and I have none to pay. My own "security" is taken care of already.' She smiles slightly. "I walk here with no worries, though I cannot say the same for many others."
Willhum says, 'I see. You took care of yourself before you thought about the rest of the Shire?' He crosses his arms over his chest again.
Ceallian bites her lower lip and blushes. "No, sir. A lass who travels alone learns these things, you could say."
Willhum says, 'In Gondor, A lass who travels alone is either a prostitute or a Rohirrim in disquise! But this is not Gondor, and you are not a prostitute, though I suspect you of being from Rohan.'
Ceallian laughs, turning a bit red. "Aye, sir, I am of the Mark. I am certainly not.. the other."
Willhum says, 'Indeed.'
Ceallian says, 'Is that so strange?'
Willhum says, 'Who works here, that I could expect to find in the day? Others you have hired, or what have you.'
Ceallian says, 'Works here? No one, sir. This is the home of my companions.'
Willhum says, '...Companions?'
Ceallian says, 'We have no help to speak of at the moment. I care for this hall alone. Aye, sir. My companions, friends. We all carry those pins, like the one I "mailed" you.'
Willhum says, 'Threw at me, you mean! Hmph.'
Ceallian says, 'I mailed it! I have nothing to do with how it was delivered. And..' She lowers her voice, "Do not trust the postmen. Much."
Willhum grunts. "Sharkey?"
Ceallian smiles slightly. "No, sir. Because if you send food, it will arrive either late and very light, or not at all."
Willhum rubs his chin. "Hmh."
Ceallian tilts her head to the side. "Though some things here worry me, sir."
Willhum says, 'Such as..? I must know what to look for.'
Ceallian says, 'Tall folks, sir. Where they should not be. And listen to all rumors, since they begin as truths.'
Willhum says, 'His arm is long, indeed. I shall have to make a regular activity out of my n-..'
Ceallian raises a brow.
Willhum instantly drops to a Bree accent. "Evenin'."
((Luke shows up in some homely pants to have a chat with Cay.))
Lokath has fine pants. He tips his hat to Ceallian. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
Ceallian blushes deeply and shakes her head, suddenly very interested in the same spot on the floor she was staring down earlier.
Willhum says, 'Just her new gardener, sir. Gettin' to know the things about th' town, and all. What t' look out for. Think we met before, didn' we? At th' party. Aye, your the horse farmer!'
Lokath clears his throat, shrugging. "Well. I just wanted to stop by and say, well... I suppose I'm sorry. I haven't been the kindest to you."
Ceallian looks to the gardener. "What did he do to *you*?"
Willhum says, 'Oi, didn' do nothing to me, ma'am.'
Ceallian says, 'Then why is he sorry?'
Willhum says, 'Must be t' you? Wantin' I should beat him up, Ma'am?'
Lokath blinks at Ceallian. "I'm talking to you, miss."
Willhum cracks his neck.
Ceallian flashes a smile to Will. "No, sir, unless you plan to do so with a trowel for weeding the lettuce beds." She looks to Luke, the very picture of politeness. "Are you jesting, sir?"
Willhum sighs..
Lokath shakes his head. "No. I'm not. You've been... polite to me, at the very least. You invited me into your home here, fed me, gave me drink... Even some sentimental things of yours. And I've just been rude."
Ceallian goes completely slack-jawed, then narrows her eyes and shakes her head, adopting a rather rigid smile. "No apologies are needed, sir."
Willhum picks a flake of rust off his chainmail. "Aw, Da's gonna kill me."
Lokath shrugs, slightly. "Well, I think they are. Or were. I suppose they aren't now that they've been said."
Ceallian glances to the mail jacket and smiles slightly. "Ah... you should... stop playing at being a soldier, sir. The time for play is over, there are carrots to be picked."
Lokath peers at Willhum and smiles placidly. "Ah, the blacksmith."
Willhum says, 'S' only dry bunch o' cloths I have, at th' minute. Elf scared me, fell in th' river. Aye, aye. Gardener now. Eh, pays the bills, eh?'
Ceallian closes her eyes for a moment. She watches the two of them, very carefully paying attention to how well Will acts as a "gardener."
Lokath says, 'Well, there's plenty of call for smithing in Bree, you know. All those guards getting their breastplates dinted.'
Willhum says, 'Bree's a good week's walk from 'ere, aint it? Sorry, I ain' got the kind of money t' do that.'
Lokath shrugs. "Three days. You can make it in one if you ride."
Willhum says, 'Ride what? My ol' nag? Hah! That's grand, tis. Poor ol' Oak cant get much over a walk, nowadays. 'sides, Safer in the Shire, eh? Nothin' t' worry about.'
Ceallian clears her throat softly and glances to Luke, as if she's waiting for the punchline at any moment.
Lokath smiles once more. "I suppose not. Fixing cutlery for halflings isn't much of a job, is it."
Willhum says, 'Pays more'n you'd think, what have you. So you cant think of nothin' wrong here?'
Lokath raises an eyebrow. "Wrong?"
Ceallian raises a brow, still watching them quietly.
Willhum says, 'You know, troubles, dangers. Heck, Bree's full o' southerners now! Or, was last time I was there.'
Lokath says, 'Oh. Well. Brigands and such, yes. They're easy to keep down, though.'
Ceallian says, 'But a sign of great trouble in the Shire, sir.'
Willhum says, 'Oh-ho? That so, Ma'am? Well, I'll jus' be careful. Should sharpen Da's old blade again, now that I think 'bout it.. Hmh.'
Ceallian nods slowly, seeming quite hesitant to agree. She looks to Luke and tilts her head to the side. "May I ask you something, sir?"
Lokath looks back at Ceallian and shrugs. "I suppose so, though I should be going soon. It's a long ride back to Bree."
Willhum rubs his chin quietly, staring out the window at the yard.
Ceallian blinks. "You came all the way from... No, that would be..." She laughs and shakes her head. 'I was just speaking to my gardener here about a "what if" sort of situation.'
Willhum says, 'Aye.'
Ceallian says, 'What if there were to be an army raised in the Shire, sir, to fight the.. troubles here?'
Willhum says, 'Oh! 'nother one, I see. Hello, hello.'
Lokath tilts his head to the side. "An army of halfings wielding old mathoms? I don't think the Bounders would stand for it.'
Ceallian shakes her head quickly. 'No, sir. Soldiers. Real ones. Experienced and trained. To fight for the Shire from within the Bounds. Since the Bounders seem a bit wary of any sort of outside influence here, perhaps are *pressed* into so much wariness, it would have to be very quietly done.'
Willhum says, 'Aye, what they dont know cant hurt 'em.'
((Telwing wanders in and makes herself at home.))
Telwing hums to herself and starts to peruse the bookshelf, taping each book as she reeads their titles.
Lokath coughs softly into his hand. "An army of Men hiding in the Shire?"
Ceallian smiles in Telwing's direction, apparently completely "unfaced" *snickers* that the elf is here.
Lokath says, 'They'll stick out like a sore thumb.'
Ceallian says, 'Aye, sir. But perhaps not so much.'
Willhum says, 'Aint just hobbits that live in the South Farthing nowadays.'
Ceallian says, 'No, sir, not at all. I have seen many folks move here myself in the three years or so I have kept a home here. But they are peacable people, like I am. That is why they chose the Shire as a refuge.'
Willhum says, 'Aye, But aint much use as a refuge when tis under attack, is it?'
Telwing pulls out a book and starts to look over it, muttering to herself.
Lokath nods, ever so slowly. "If I were doing it? I'd keep the group small. No more than five or six men."
Willhum says, 'Hmmh.. Ya think that'd be 'nough?'
Lokath says, 'Any more than that... troop movements are easy to track.'
Ceallian grins quickly. "Aye, and perhaps they should have other jobs too? Like gardening, baking, and such.'
Lokath smiles at the man. "Against bandits? Yes."
Willhum says, 'Well, could have six or seven in one o' each the towns, eh?'
Ceallian mirrors the smile. "And to send word to others who would come back with the greatest of haste, perhaps?"
Willhum says, 'Dont matter how well-trained they are, hundred bandits'd kill'em in a moment. Aye, aye.'
Ceallian says, 'Aye, six or seven in each village would be enough for at least some protection!'
Willhum says, 'Keep it spread. Ya train th' first group, then send those to be th' trainers in other towns..'
Ceallian says, 'Since so many folks know are called away from their own hearths, sir.'
Lokath shrugs. "It would work. So long as you keep in mind that armies of bandits going missing are like to be noticed."
Ceallian nods again. "Can I speak plainly of this to you both?
Willhum says, 'Aye.'
Lokath nods.
Ceallian pauses, holding one finger up to Luke and shaking back and forth. "First. No jokes from you, and if you say a single word to anyone at all about this, I will break your skull open with a teakettle."
Willhum smirks, the image quite funny in his mind.
Lokath pretends to button his lips closed.
Ceallian narrows her eyes at him. "Promise."
Telwing mumbles about Teakettles making nice helmets.
Lokath says, 'Cross my heart and hope to die, miss.'
Ceallian shakes her head. "Say you promise."
Telwing flips through the book muttering about finding a certain page about trees.
Lokath sighs softly. "I swear it on the grave of Eorl the great, I will speak no word of this to any outside this room, without your express permission."
Willhum looks over at the fire, where a teakettle is warming.
Ceallian nods, smiling for only a moment. 'Fair enough.'
Willhum says, 'Mmh.. Tea'd be nice, aye. Cold out.. Er, go on.'
Ceallian says, 'I have traveled quite far from the Shire. And I have heard one called "Sharkey," or "the Boss," or "Sharku" among other foul black speech names, spoken of on all my roads.'
Willhum frowns, rubbing his chin.
Lokath turns and spits on the floor. "I'd love to stick a sword in the bastard's gut."
Ceallian says, 'My great interest has been in his doings in the Shire, since hobbits are such quiet and gentle people. And I have a great care for them. When I am called away, I constantly worry about my home and friends and family here. I have wished for such an army for a long time. But other matters have kept my attention.'
Willhum clears his throat. "I have no worries about being called away, Ma'am, ifn' you get me."
Ceallian smiles to Luke. "You and others, who have heard the name, sir. Though none are sure who he is or why he acts." She turns to Will and raises a brow. "Which is why our 'what if' was so intriguing, sir."
Lokath grimaces. "He picked up the strings of the wrecked Blackwolds and tied them back into a cohesive whole. That's enough reason for me."
Willhum says, 'Aye, aye.'
Ceallian says, 'Because I know many people that would come at my call, if they were needed. I have heard him called upon in the deepest pits of Moria, that I have seen, anyway. His reach is so great, and all seem to fear him.'
Willhum says, 'But th' issue is, that its a constant problem, aye. An' ye aint a constant person in society, ye know?'
Ceallian says, 'But since the Shire is a fragile place, there is no room here for an army, needed or not.'
Willhum says, 'Mmh.'
Ceallian says, 'I am a constant traveler, sir. That is all I can say. But there is room for people to quietly protect the Shire, who are more trained than those in very important hats with great walking sticks.'
Willhum rubs his chin, frowning. "He be trusted, Ma'am?" he says, gesturing to Luke with a nod.
Ceallian says, 'And perhaps for helpers with fast horses, who can move silently and quick to call for greater aid. If he cannot be trusted, I will take care of the matter forthright.'
Lokath smirks slightly. "Horses I can do."
Ceallian says, 'Aye, but can you keep secrets, sir? And does that mean you would help with this.. possibility?'
Telwing folds a page and slames the book shut, and starts fiddling with her own pack.
Lokath nods, then shakes his head. "Yes, I can keep secrets. No, I can't help with this. Beyond getting you horses at a bit of a discount. My place is in Bree-land."
Willhum smirks, and speaks again, the Bree-accent gone. "Good, its hard to keep that accent up for long. For three months, have I fought brigands in and around the Shire, but they grow to many for me alone, and I am but one man in a storm that is meant for all"
Ceallian looks to Will and tilts her chin in Telwing's direction. "You should.."
Willhum says, 'Aye.'
Telwing sets down the book she grabbed and a book from her pack and pulls a quill from her vest.
Lokath smirks and glances knowingly at Willhum's hair.
Willhum says, 'Well, I'll be frank, then. I'm not a Bree-lander or even from here. I'm from Gondor, sent to see if any would aid us in our time of war; But all are preoccupied, and the ways south are closed.'
Ceallian folds her hands before her, rocking on her heels and nibbling her lower lip as she thinks. She spares a glance to Luke and raises a brow in question.
Willhum says, 'So I have lay hidden. Over time, about three months ago, I came upon the Shire. I fell in love with it, an island of peace in this world of turmoil; But then I saw that it was in trouble.'
Ceallian lowers her voice to the elf. "Forgive us, lady. We are being quite rude, and I know your face. What do you think of all this?"
Willhum says, 'And I have strived day and night to -fight- this trouble, sir, with all the training given to me. But again, I am but one Man. You see my predicament. Sharkey's power grows, and we can do little to stop him. The Bounders are useless, and few others around stay long enough to actually be of help.'
Telwing looks up from the books a moment, "You have a nice collection, and maps, and a nice table.
Ceallian smiles softly. "You have a knowledge and a love of such things? My sister collected them."
Telwing starts copying a line or two from the book.
Willhum crosses his arms over his chest. "My armor rusts, my blade dulls, my horse grows weaker with each battle I do. I need people to help, and I need supplies to keep them well."
Lokath smiles, turnging to offer the man a hand. "Luke Horsefield. Born and raised Breelander, but not wholly bred. My Da was born in the Fold."
Ceallian glances aside at this, smiling for only a moment."
Willhum says, 'Willhum Rodetan, Born and raised in Minas Tirith. I am also Will, the gardener."
Telwing nods slightly, writing in small words, she occasionally flicks her quill, coaxing ink from the dark feathers.
Ceallian smiles, stepping away quietly to leave the elf to her work. "Join us, if you wish."
Lokath shrugs. "I'm also Lucas Eohfaeder, father of the next Lord of Highwall. But who we are and aren't doesn't really matter, does it. Just what we do."
Willhum says, 'Indeed.'
Ceallian goes wide-eyed, and quickly finds herself stepping in quite the other direction of the men.
Telwing puts the quill away and puts her personal book away, picking up the burrowed copy.
Ceallian lets her gaze lovingly wander the table. She picks up half of an entire cake and decides it's unladylike.. so opts for a haunch of ham to start nomming.
Lokath nods, slowly. "My sword is sworn to other causes. But anything else, within reason, I will help with."
Telwing puts the book back where she found it.
Ceallian devours most of the ham, then pats at her lips with a napkin delicately.
((I DCed somewhere in the middle here and lost part of the conversation.))
Willhum says, 'Then I ask you, please, to find any deserters there. They may not seem like.. much. But many are good men, and fled because of the Nazgul or worse. Tough, are the times.'
Lokath shrugs, then nods. "Send me the list, and I'll root out who I can."
Ceallian takes a crock of butter and some cheese and finds herself a chair.
Willhum says, 'Aye.'
Lokath shrugs, then nods. "Send me the list, and I'll root out who I can."
Willhum says, 'Very well. Er.. and I'm the Gardener.'
Lokath smirks. "And here I thought you were the Blacksmith."
Ceallian dips a chunk of cheese in the butter and munches mindlessly as she watches the men talk.
Willhum says, 'Aye, well, if it pays.' He winks. "Besides, I get a bed now. No more under the bridge."
Ceallian says, 'Mind you do not track mud on the floors. Remember.'
Willhum says, 'Yes, yes.'
Lokath shrugs, then stretches. "I've been a blacksmith myself at times. It's a lucrative business. Not nearly as useful as a bartender, though."
Willhum says, 'I'll be off then! I have stayed here too long, perhaps, and its past time for my nightly patrol.'
Ceallian smiles slightly. She arches a brow to Will.
Lokath smiles at the man. "Well, I won't keep you from, ahem, weeding the garden."
Ceallian says, 'Mind you cut the grass beneath the oak very well, sir. It grows almost overnight there.'
Telwing looks over the table of food, picking up some biscuits and tucking them away in her pockets.
Willhum cracks his neck, and walks towards the archway where his coat and swordbelt hang. 'Aye, ma'am. After I'm done with Sharkey's grass, I'll tend to your own.'
Ceallian narrows her eyes. "I will not cut that grass too! I can only do so much around here.'
Willhum smirks, putting his cloak and sword belt on.
Ceallian says, 'If you want biscuits, or better, you WILL cut that grass. Today.'
Willhum says, 'e drops back into his Bree-accent. "Aye, Ma'am. I'll be off, needn' fertilizer. G'day!"'
Lokath chuckles softly, calling out. "Aye, if she hires on a new gardener and the landscaping doesn't seem to improve, folk will think she's taken you on as a lover."
Willhum says, 'Thought you said you werent a prostitute, Ma'am?'
Ceallian polishes off her.. butter and sets the crock down on the mantle. She turns to Luke, patting the crumbs from her strange supper from her lips. 'Wha...'
Willhum says, 'Well, G'day!'
Ceallian says, 'What?'
Telwing mumbles that gardener and lover are about the same thing.
Ceallian hides her face in her hands, getting butter from her fingers in her hair.
Lokath glances at Ceallian and her... shiny hair, but decides not to say anything.
Ceallian decides she must be alone in the pleasantly quiet, gardener-free room. She drops her hands slowly, then squeaks as she realizes yes, Luke is still there. And so is her other new friend.
Telwing takes a large bite out of a biscuit.
Ceallian clears her throat quietly. She glances at the door as if she may make a run for it.
Lokath smiles at Ceallian. "I should go."
Ceallian blinks, startled by his expression. "Are you feeling well, sir?"
Lokath blinks. "Yes. Why?
Ceallian says, 'You are not acting like yourself.'
Lokath shrugs. "Maybe I am, and I haven't been acting like myself for the past week."
Ceallian says, 'I.. do not understand, sir.'
Lokath says, 'I've... had a bad past few weeks.'
Telwing mumbles about finding the recipe to give the chefs in Thorin's Hall. Spraying biscuit crumbs everywhere.
Ceallian says, 'Why? May I ask, or is that rude of me?'
Lokath turns away, clearing his throat into his hand. He pauses for a few moments before looking back at her. "You say you're worried about your son."
Ceallian nods very slowly. "Aye, sir."
Lokath reaches up, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "I... had to leave mine in Rohan about a week back. Just before we met, actually."
Ceallian smiles slightly. "I had heard something about that sir, and I am sorry. I did not know..." She trails off, looking to her shoes.
Telwing grabs a few veggies. She approaches the two, her cheeks full of biscuit.
Lokath shrugs.
Ceallian raises a brow to the elf with a smile.
Telwing says with her mouth full of biscuit, " I know a certain Raven who would love to have your biscuits."
Ceallian says, 'Aye? A.. bird?'
Telwing swallows the food in her mouth, "What? can't a bird enjoy nice food?
Ceallian says, 'No, lady, I am sure a bird loves a good biscuit. I have never been told as much, though.'
Lokath nods towards the door. "I'm going to go. Goodnight, both of you."
Ceallian stammers, unable to say farewell, or anything logical, for that matter.
Telwing nods and waves at Lok, holding a carrot.
Lokath blinks at Ceallian. "Are you... okay?"
Ceallian narrows her eyes. "You are a very cruel... No. What is the jest here now?"
Lokath blinks. "You think I'm joking? Pulling your leg?"
Ceallian nods hesitantly.
Lokath sighs, very, very softly. "Think that if you wish. I have a long ride home. Enjoy your evening, miss Ceallian. Sleep well.'
Ceallian presses her lips together tightly, then offers, "Perhaps not. Brem holca, sir."
Lokath nods to Telwing. "And you as well, Lady Firstborn."
Telwing takes a bite of the carrot and puts the rest away for later.
Ceallian smiles politely but is clearly mystified.
Telwing smiles back, "I'm trying to find a page or two of a couple books, harder to find then a ... something hard to find."
Ceallian laughs quietly. "Do second-born folks amuse you? They amuse me, lady."
Telwing shrugs, "Everything can amuse me if I get distracted."
Ceallian grins. "Fair enough. Stay, if you like. Since you know all of our secrets." She may be joking.
Telwing shrugs and waves dismissivly at the mention of secrets, "Keep those if you wish, they will not reach the page of a book."
Ceallian nods. "I did not think as much, lady, since you showed no signs of trying *not* to listen to them. Here, I have something for you."
Telwing perks an eyebrow, "More food? Because my pockets are full and I dare not swallow another bite."
Ceallian reaches into her pocket and fetches something, shaking her head with a shy smile. "No, it is a pin. Take it. I think you will find it most amusing. Perhaps if you hear any secrets I may like to know, you would share them sometime? Since I barely know how to read and write myself.'
Telwing looks over the pin and takes it and starts to look over it, searching it's meaning or use.
Ceallian says, 'They would be safe.' She laughs softly. "Enjoy that. Namarie."
Telwing smiles and nods slightly, "I wouldn't know the first thing about whats a secret and what isn't"
((Cay is at the kin house when the "troll" from beneath the bridge approaches her to have a little talk.))
Willhum says, 'Hoy, there.'
Ceallian smiles slightly. "You startled me."
Willhum hops off the horse, slapping on its rear to send it on its way. 'Was looking for you. Remember me? Met at the party.'
Ceallian says, 'For me? Aye, I remember you well enough.'
Willhum says, 'Good.'
Ceallian smiles politely.
Willhum says, 'Look, I tried others, they dont seem to care. Frankly, they dont care for me because I'm... an -outsider-, I suppose, ya?'
Ceallian says, 'Aye?'
Willhum crosses his arms over his chest. "I've.. noticed things, in my stay here."
Ceallian says, 'Things, sir? If you mean the yard, I have a gardner hired to take care of the grass! I am sorry if it bothers you.'
Willhum says, 'Ever hear the name 'Sharkey'?'
Ceallian stands very still. "Is he a gardener?"
Willhum says, 'Lets just say folk dont normally say his name with a happy tone.'
Ceallian lowers her voice. "We should not speak of such things out here."
Willhum smirks. "No place is safe, is it? Alright, lets head on in, then."
Ceallian gestures at the great hall. "Make yourself welcome, sir."
((The pair heads inside.))
Willhum says, 'Uh huh.' He hangs his cloak and sword-belt.
Ceallian stokes the fires. "It gets drafty here, even in the summer."
Willhum says, 'Let me be frank, then, about who I am and what I do.'
Ceallian nods shortly. "If you please."
Willhum crosses his arms over his chest. "I was sent by Gondor as part of a few envoys, to find out what I can about who can help us. Dale, I fear, is not available. And Bree is preoccupied with the Witch-King."
Ceallian smiles slightly. "Sir, I am a simple lass. I know very little of such matters. Why are you telling me?"
Willhum says, 'I have been living here, in the Shire, for a couple of months now, under the bridge just outside. The Shire is under attack.'
Ceallian bites her lower lip, thinking for a moment. 'Under the bridge, sir?'
Willhum says, 'Someone in the south, this.. Sharkey.. is hiring men to come up here and mess with the good people.' He grunts, and says nothing.
Ceallian says, 'Sir, I have heard as much myself. I have lived in the Shire for almost three years now.'
Willhum says, 'And yet no one has done anything to prevent this slow invasion!'
Ceallian says, 'I think perhaps everyone who does not wish to hide has listened to the tales.' She shakes her head. "Those who are doing something to help are called farther and farther from the Bounds."
Willhum says, 'Then you must train those that are still here. The women, the children, the old.. any who can hold a blade could be of help!'
Ceallian says, 'They could be, sir, but they will not be. Do you know much of hobbits?'
Willhum says, 'They are but a myth back in Gondor.'
Ceallian says, 'Hobbits are quiet. They think of comfort and home firstly, sir. These are not the folks to fight an army.'
Willhum says, 'Then who will defend them, if not themselves? I am but one man, lady, and I am already doing all that I can!'
Ceallian says, 'There are the Bounders, sir, but mostly they just have very official-looking hats. They have no defense but the hopes that the rest of the world has overlooked them! Which is silly, now.'
Willhum says, 'Pointless. The Enemy has its eyes set on the Shire, for whatever reason. If they will not fight, Then I will! I will gather those that are willing, or able, to fight beside me!'
Ceallian nods again, this time looking thoughtfully away to the fire. "Sir, you are quite sharp to notice as much. Many travelers have missed it entirely."
Willhum says, 'I've had much time to think.'
Ceallian hides her smile behind her hand. "Beneath a bridge?"
Willhum says, 'When you people arent bothering me with your silly talk.' He grumbles, holding up the pin.
Ceallian peeks at him from beneath her eyelashes. "Ah. I see. You got it, then."
Willhum says, 'The mailman threw it at me, if thats what you mean.'
Ceallian smiles demurely. "Ah, handy fellow, he is. I shall give him a nice piece of pie next time we meet." She shakes her head in dismissal.
Willhum sighs. "I dont see why I came to you. Your a bard, not a warrior."
Ceallian says, 'Why are you telling me this, sir? Exactly. I am a player of songs and overall a fairly silly lass.'
Willhum says, 'Something makes me doubt that.'
Ceallian laughs. 'Aye, sir?'
Willhum says, 'For one, your hair is red. That isnt very common around here, more from the Rhohirrim to the south.'
Ceallian says, 'Well, sir, I am not from Bree-Land. At least my parents were not. But there are many travelers about on these roads of late.'
Willhum says, 'Indeed. I will ask no more, since you dont seem to want to tell me.'
Ceallian smiles sweetly. "Fair enough. Though if I can help you in some way, I shall try. Since this is my home.'
Willhum says, 'We all have our secrets. At any rate, I came mostly to ask for funding. To train, and pay, a small army.'
Ceallian says, 'F-funding? For.. an army?'
Willhum says, 'How else do we stop such an invasion?'
Ceallian says, 'But I do not even know you, sir. And despite this grand hall, I have no coin of my own to speak of.'
Willhum says, 'I see.'
Ceallian studies him intently as she drops her gaze to the floor, sweeping him with her eyes but making no sign of what she might see. 'Perhaps you have mistaken me for someone else, sir?'
Willhum crosses his arms over his chest again, chainmail jingling.
Ceallian says, 'Do you not wish to take that off? I am quite unarmed and no one else is here. It looks quite heavy.'
Willhum says, 'If you have any heart, if you care at all for the kind, innocent folk that dwell here, I know you will assist me. These folk truly accept your art, your music and lore. This is one of the few places in the world still free from the evil that is slowly spreading. But not for long. You may help me, or find some way to get these people to help themselves. But they must not be allowed to perish!'
Ceallian clasps her hands behind her back. She looks to the ceiling for quite some time in thought.
Willhum says, 'If I must stand and face an army alone, in just this rusting chainmail, I shall, For I would have known I had died protecting something pure and innocent. These folk mean no harm to anyone.'
Ceallian says, 'My companions are not warriors, sir, though some of them do travel a bit. And I have no money. But my own concern regarding Sharkey is great. I will help you, perhaps, if I am able. But I have no money. And I can only think of perhaps three people who may be of use.'
Willhum says, 'I can train those that I must, for I am a Man of war. I need men, soldiers, and the supplies to feed them.'
Ceallian shrugs, gesturing vaguely. "I can make a few biscuits." She laughs sheepishly.
Willhum nods seriously. "As many as possible."
Ceallian says, 'But as for providing men and what it would take to train them, I will be of no help.' She blinks. "Well then. I can also offer you the use of this house, though you may only want to.. practice after dark. The Shire is rich with gossips. And I want no trouble here.'
Willhum says, 'Very well. I train those who are willing here. If we need fight with stick, in cloth shirts, Then so be it.'
Ceallian says, 'After nightfall. And mind you do not track mud in on the stone floor. It is awful to get clean again.'
Willhum says, 'Hmh. Very well.'
Ceallian says, 'And if anyone asks... You are my... Cou-... bro-... How old are you?'
Willhum says, 'Nineteen seasons.'
Ceallian nods shortly. "Hmm. I already have a quite conspicuous cousin, and you do not look as if you are an Eorling. What will you tell peo-... Ah! You are the gardener!'
Willhum raises an eyebrow. 'The.. gardener.'
Ceallian says, 'If any of our neighbors ask, or folks around the village, how you know me, or why you live here, you are the gardener!'
Willhum says, 'Very well.'
Ceallian says, 'That means you have quite a bit of grass to cut, sir.'
Willhum grunts.
Ceallian says, 'Well? What else can I call you?'
Willhum says, 'Will. Willhum Rodetan is my full name, though I havent used it in forever.'
Ceallian wrinkles her nose. "A hobbit will not accept just 'Will.'"
Willhum says, 'Will is for the best, since it is short, and Bree-like. Well? Will that suffice?'
Ceallian says, 'No, sir, well.. yes. Yes. But no! You should have a reason for suddenly being here, I think!'
Willhum says, 'What do you mean, suddenly? I've been living beneath the bridge for a few months!'
Ceallian says, 'But... Do you want the neighbors to think I took you in out of charity? Go cut the grass!'
Willhum says, 'But what? Out of...?! Hmph!'
Ceallian nods, demurely turning her eyes to a nice spot on the floor about six inches from her toes. "I do not want them to pity you, sir."
Willhum says, 'Month of hunting bandits and orcs that come through the borders of the Shire, I finnaly find help.. And then I'm demoted to gardener!'
Ceallian says, 'Well, you could be a very heroic gardener, or do you want everyone to know that you are using my great hall to train an army to fight the Boss of the Shire?'
Willhum says, 'Very well, very well. But I'm moving out from under the bloody bridge!'
Ceallian says, 'Of course you are, sir. All of my hired help is welcome to stay here, free of charge. Though mind you, I do not have the coin to pay for a gardener. Room and board will have to be plenty.'
Willhum says, 'Free of charge, except what you deduct from their payments.'
Ceallian says, 'Payments?'
Willhum says, 'Yes, very well. I dont expect to earn money anyways.'
Ceallian says, 'Aye, sir, and I have none to pay. My own "security" is taken care of already.' She smiles slightly. "I walk here with no worries, though I cannot say the same for many others."
Willhum says, 'I see. You took care of yourself before you thought about the rest of the Shire?' He crosses his arms over his chest again.
Ceallian bites her lower lip and blushes. "No, sir. A lass who travels alone learns these things, you could say."
Willhum says, 'In Gondor, A lass who travels alone is either a prostitute or a Rohirrim in disquise! But this is not Gondor, and you are not a prostitute, though I suspect you of being from Rohan.'
Ceallian laughs, turning a bit red. "Aye, sir, I am of the Mark. I am certainly not.. the other."
Willhum says, 'Indeed.'
Ceallian says, 'Is that so strange?'
Willhum says, 'Who works here, that I could expect to find in the day? Others you have hired, or what have you.'
Ceallian says, 'Works here? No one, sir. This is the home of my companions.'
Willhum says, '...Companions?'
Ceallian says, 'We have no help to speak of at the moment. I care for this hall alone. Aye, sir. My companions, friends. We all carry those pins, like the one I "mailed" you.'
Willhum says, 'Threw at me, you mean! Hmph.'
Ceallian says, 'I mailed it! I have nothing to do with how it was delivered. And..' She lowers her voice, "Do not trust the postmen. Much."
Willhum grunts. "Sharkey?"
Ceallian smiles slightly. "No, sir. Because if you send food, it will arrive either late and very light, or not at all."
Willhum rubs his chin. "Hmh."
Ceallian tilts her head to the side. "Though some things here worry me, sir."
Willhum says, 'Such as..? I must know what to look for.'
Ceallian says, 'Tall folks, sir. Where they should not be. And listen to all rumors, since they begin as truths.'
Willhum says, 'His arm is long, indeed. I shall have to make a regular activity out of my n-..'
Ceallian raises a brow.
Willhum instantly drops to a Bree accent. "Evenin'."
((Luke shows up in some homely pants to have a chat with Cay.))
Lokath has fine pants. He tips his hat to Ceallian. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything?"
Ceallian blushes deeply and shakes her head, suddenly very interested in the same spot on the floor she was staring down earlier.
Willhum says, 'Just her new gardener, sir. Gettin' to know the things about th' town, and all. What t' look out for. Think we met before, didn' we? At th' party. Aye, your the horse farmer!'
Lokath clears his throat, shrugging. "Well. I just wanted to stop by and say, well... I suppose I'm sorry. I haven't been the kindest to you."
Ceallian looks to the gardener. "What did he do to *you*?"
Willhum says, 'Oi, didn' do nothing to me, ma'am.'
Ceallian says, 'Then why is he sorry?'
Willhum says, 'Must be t' you? Wantin' I should beat him up, Ma'am?'
Lokath blinks at Ceallian. "I'm talking to you, miss."
Willhum cracks his neck.
Ceallian flashes a smile to Will. "No, sir, unless you plan to do so with a trowel for weeding the lettuce beds." She looks to Luke, the very picture of politeness. "Are you jesting, sir?"
Willhum sighs..
Lokath shakes his head. "No. I'm not. You've been... polite to me, at the very least. You invited me into your home here, fed me, gave me drink... Even some sentimental things of yours. And I've just been rude."
Ceallian goes completely slack-jawed, then narrows her eyes and shakes her head, adopting a rather rigid smile. "No apologies are needed, sir."
Willhum picks a flake of rust off his chainmail. "Aw, Da's gonna kill me."
Lokath shrugs, slightly. "Well, I think they are. Or were. I suppose they aren't now that they've been said."
Ceallian glances to the mail jacket and smiles slightly. "Ah... you should... stop playing at being a soldier, sir. The time for play is over, there are carrots to be picked."
Lokath peers at Willhum and smiles placidly. "Ah, the blacksmith."
Willhum says, 'S' only dry bunch o' cloths I have, at th' minute. Elf scared me, fell in th' river. Aye, aye. Gardener now. Eh, pays the bills, eh?'
Ceallian closes her eyes for a moment. She watches the two of them, very carefully paying attention to how well Will acts as a "gardener."
Lokath says, 'Well, there's plenty of call for smithing in Bree, you know. All those guards getting their breastplates dinted.'
Willhum says, 'Bree's a good week's walk from 'ere, aint it? Sorry, I ain' got the kind of money t' do that.'
Lokath shrugs. "Three days. You can make it in one if you ride."
Willhum says, 'Ride what? My ol' nag? Hah! That's grand, tis. Poor ol' Oak cant get much over a walk, nowadays. 'sides, Safer in the Shire, eh? Nothin' t' worry about.'
Ceallian clears her throat softly and glances to Luke, as if she's waiting for the punchline at any moment.
Lokath smiles once more. "I suppose not. Fixing cutlery for halflings isn't much of a job, is it."
Willhum says, 'Pays more'n you'd think, what have you. So you cant think of nothin' wrong here?'
Lokath raises an eyebrow. "Wrong?"
Ceallian raises a brow, still watching them quietly.
Willhum says, 'You know, troubles, dangers. Heck, Bree's full o' southerners now! Or, was last time I was there.'
Lokath says, 'Oh. Well. Brigands and such, yes. They're easy to keep down, though.'
Ceallian says, 'But a sign of great trouble in the Shire, sir.'
Willhum says, 'Oh-ho? That so, Ma'am? Well, I'll jus' be careful. Should sharpen Da's old blade again, now that I think 'bout it.. Hmh.'
Ceallian nods slowly, seeming quite hesitant to agree. She looks to Luke and tilts her head to the side. "May I ask you something, sir?"
Lokath looks back at Ceallian and shrugs. "I suppose so, though I should be going soon. It's a long ride back to Bree."
Willhum rubs his chin quietly, staring out the window at the yard.
Ceallian blinks. "You came all the way from... No, that would be..." She laughs and shakes her head. 'I was just speaking to my gardener here about a "what if" sort of situation.'
Willhum says, 'Aye.'
Ceallian says, 'What if there were to be an army raised in the Shire, sir, to fight the.. troubles here?'
Willhum says, 'Oh! 'nother one, I see. Hello, hello.'
Lokath tilts his head to the side. "An army of halfings wielding old mathoms? I don't think the Bounders would stand for it.'
Ceallian shakes her head quickly. 'No, sir. Soldiers. Real ones. Experienced and trained. To fight for the Shire from within the Bounds. Since the Bounders seem a bit wary of any sort of outside influence here, perhaps are *pressed* into so much wariness, it would have to be very quietly done.'
Willhum says, 'Aye, what they dont know cant hurt 'em.'
((Telwing wanders in and makes herself at home.))
Telwing hums to herself and starts to peruse the bookshelf, taping each book as she reeads their titles.
Lokath coughs softly into his hand. "An army of Men hiding in the Shire?"
Ceallian smiles in Telwing's direction, apparently completely "unfaced" *snickers* that the elf is here.
Lokath says, 'They'll stick out like a sore thumb.'
Ceallian says, 'Aye, sir. But perhaps not so much.'
Willhum says, 'Aint just hobbits that live in the South Farthing nowadays.'
Ceallian says, 'No, sir, not at all. I have seen many folks move here myself in the three years or so I have kept a home here. But they are peacable people, like I am. That is why they chose the Shire as a refuge.'
Willhum says, 'Aye, But aint much use as a refuge when tis under attack, is it?'
Telwing pulls out a book and starts to look over it, muttering to herself.
Lokath nods, ever so slowly. "If I were doing it? I'd keep the group small. No more than five or six men."
Willhum says, 'Hmmh.. Ya think that'd be 'nough?'
Lokath says, 'Any more than that... troop movements are easy to track.'
Ceallian grins quickly. "Aye, and perhaps they should have other jobs too? Like gardening, baking, and such.'
Lokath smiles at the man. "Against bandits? Yes."
Willhum says, 'Well, could have six or seven in one o' each the towns, eh?'
Ceallian mirrors the smile. "And to send word to others who would come back with the greatest of haste, perhaps?"
Willhum says, 'Dont matter how well-trained they are, hundred bandits'd kill'em in a moment. Aye, aye.'
Ceallian says, 'Aye, six or seven in each village would be enough for at least some protection!'
Willhum says, 'Keep it spread. Ya train th' first group, then send those to be th' trainers in other towns..'
Ceallian says, 'Since so many folks know are called away from their own hearths, sir.'
Lokath shrugs. "It would work. So long as you keep in mind that armies of bandits going missing are like to be noticed."
Ceallian nods again. "Can I speak plainly of this to you both?
Willhum says, 'Aye.'
Lokath nods.
Ceallian pauses, holding one finger up to Luke and shaking back and forth. "First. No jokes from you, and if you say a single word to anyone at all about this, I will break your skull open with a teakettle."
Willhum smirks, the image quite funny in his mind.
Lokath pretends to button his lips closed.
Ceallian narrows her eyes at him. "Promise."
Telwing mumbles about Teakettles making nice helmets.
Lokath says, 'Cross my heart and hope to die, miss.'
Ceallian shakes her head. "Say you promise."
Telwing flips through the book muttering about finding a certain page about trees.
Lokath sighs softly. "I swear it on the grave of Eorl the great, I will speak no word of this to any outside this room, without your express permission."
Willhum looks over at the fire, where a teakettle is warming.
Ceallian nods, smiling for only a moment. 'Fair enough.'
Willhum says, 'Mmh.. Tea'd be nice, aye. Cold out.. Er, go on.'
Ceallian says, 'I have traveled quite far from the Shire. And I have heard one called "Sharkey," or "the Boss," or "Sharku" among other foul black speech names, spoken of on all my roads.'
Willhum frowns, rubbing his chin.
Lokath turns and spits on the floor. "I'd love to stick a sword in the bastard's gut."
Ceallian says, 'My great interest has been in his doings in the Shire, since hobbits are such quiet and gentle people. And I have a great care for them. When I am called away, I constantly worry about my home and friends and family here. I have wished for such an army for a long time. But other matters have kept my attention.'
Willhum clears his throat. "I have no worries about being called away, Ma'am, ifn' you get me."
Ceallian smiles to Luke. "You and others, who have heard the name, sir. Though none are sure who he is or why he acts." She turns to Will and raises a brow. "Which is why our 'what if' was so intriguing, sir."
Lokath grimaces. "He picked up the strings of the wrecked Blackwolds and tied them back into a cohesive whole. That's enough reason for me."
Willhum says, 'Aye, aye.'
Ceallian says, 'Because I know many people that would come at my call, if they were needed. I have heard him called upon in the deepest pits of Moria, that I have seen, anyway. His reach is so great, and all seem to fear him.'
Willhum says, 'But th' issue is, that its a constant problem, aye. An' ye aint a constant person in society, ye know?'
Ceallian says, 'But since the Shire is a fragile place, there is no room here for an army, needed or not.'
Willhum says, 'Mmh.'
Ceallian says, 'I am a constant traveler, sir. That is all I can say. But there is room for people to quietly protect the Shire, who are more trained than those in very important hats with great walking sticks.'
Willhum rubs his chin, frowning. "He be trusted, Ma'am?" he says, gesturing to Luke with a nod.
Ceallian says, 'And perhaps for helpers with fast horses, who can move silently and quick to call for greater aid. If he cannot be trusted, I will take care of the matter forthright.'
Lokath smirks slightly. "Horses I can do."
Ceallian says, 'Aye, but can you keep secrets, sir? And does that mean you would help with this.. possibility?'
Telwing folds a page and slames the book shut, and starts fiddling with her own pack.
Lokath nods, then shakes his head. "Yes, I can keep secrets. No, I can't help with this. Beyond getting you horses at a bit of a discount. My place is in Bree-land."
Willhum smirks, and speaks again, the Bree-accent gone. "Good, its hard to keep that accent up for long. For three months, have I fought brigands in and around the Shire, but they grow to many for me alone, and I am but one man in a storm that is meant for all"
Ceallian looks to Will and tilts her chin in Telwing's direction. "You should.."
Willhum says, 'Aye.'
Telwing sets down the book she grabbed and a book from her pack and pulls a quill from her vest.
Lokath smirks and glances knowingly at Willhum's hair.
Willhum says, 'Well, I'll be frank, then. I'm not a Bree-lander or even from here. I'm from Gondor, sent to see if any would aid us in our time of war; But all are preoccupied, and the ways south are closed.'
Ceallian folds her hands before her, rocking on her heels and nibbling her lower lip as she thinks. She spares a glance to Luke and raises a brow in question.
Willhum says, 'So I have lay hidden. Over time, about three months ago, I came upon the Shire. I fell in love with it, an island of peace in this world of turmoil; But then I saw that it was in trouble.'
Ceallian lowers her voice to the elf. "Forgive us, lady. We are being quite rude, and I know your face. What do you think of all this?"
Willhum says, 'And I have strived day and night to -fight- this trouble, sir, with all the training given to me. But again, I am but one Man. You see my predicament. Sharkey's power grows, and we can do little to stop him. The Bounders are useless, and few others around stay long enough to actually be of help.'
Telwing looks up from the books a moment, "You have a nice collection, and maps, and a nice table.
Ceallian smiles softly. "You have a knowledge and a love of such things? My sister collected them."
Telwing starts copying a line or two from the book.
Willhum crosses his arms over his chest. "My armor rusts, my blade dulls, my horse grows weaker with each battle I do. I need people to help, and I need supplies to keep them well."
Lokath smiles, turnging to offer the man a hand. "Luke Horsefield. Born and raised Breelander, but not wholly bred. My Da was born in the Fold."
Ceallian glances aside at this, smiling for only a moment."
Willhum says, 'Willhum Rodetan, Born and raised in Minas Tirith. I am also Will, the gardener."
Telwing nods slightly, writing in small words, she occasionally flicks her quill, coaxing ink from the dark feathers.
Ceallian smiles, stepping away quietly to leave the elf to her work. "Join us, if you wish."
Lokath shrugs. "I'm also Lucas Eohfaeder, father of the next Lord of Highwall. But who we are and aren't doesn't really matter, does it. Just what we do."
Willhum says, 'Indeed.'
Ceallian goes wide-eyed, and quickly finds herself stepping in quite the other direction of the men.
Telwing puts the quill away and puts her personal book away, picking up the burrowed copy.
Ceallian lets her gaze lovingly wander the table. She picks up half of an entire cake and decides it's unladylike.. so opts for a haunch of ham to start nomming.
Lokath nods, slowly. "My sword is sworn to other causes. But anything else, within reason, I will help with."
Telwing puts the book back where she found it.
Ceallian devours most of the ham, then pats at her lips with a napkin delicately.
((I DCed somewhere in the middle here and lost part of the conversation.))
Willhum says, 'Then I ask you, please, to find any deserters there. They may not seem like.. much. But many are good men, and fled because of the Nazgul or worse. Tough, are the times.'
Lokath shrugs, then nods. "Send me the list, and I'll root out who I can."
Ceallian takes a crock of butter and some cheese and finds herself a chair.
Willhum says, 'Aye.'
Lokath shrugs, then nods. "Send me the list, and I'll root out who I can."
Willhum says, 'Very well. Er.. and I'm the Gardener.'
Lokath smirks. "And here I thought you were the Blacksmith."
Ceallian dips a chunk of cheese in the butter and munches mindlessly as she watches the men talk.
Willhum says, 'Aye, well, if it pays.' He winks. "Besides, I get a bed now. No more under the bridge."
Ceallian says, 'Mind you do not track mud on the floors. Remember.'
Willhum says, 'Yes, yes.'
Lokath shrugs, then stretches. "I've been a blacksmith myself at times. It's a lucrative business. Not nearly as useful as a bartender, though."
Willhum says, 'I'll be off then! I have stayed here too long, perhaps, and its past time for my nightly patrol.'
Ceallian smiles slightly. She arches a brow to Will.
Lokath smiles at the man. "Well, I won't keep you from, ahem, weeding the garden."
Ceallian says, 'Mind you cut the grass beneath the oak very well, sir. It grows almost overnight there.'
Telwing looks over the table of food, picking up some biscuits and tucking them away in her pockets.
Willhum cracks his neck, and walks towards the archway where his coat and swordbelt hang. 'Aye, ma'am. After I'm done with Sharkey's grass, I'll tend to your own.'
Ceallian narrows her eyes. "I will not cut that grass too! I can only do so much around here.'
Willhum smirks, putting his cloak and sword belt on.
Ceallian says, 'If you want biscuits, or better, you WILL cut that grass. Today.'
Willhum says, 'e drops back into his Bree-accent. "Aye, Ma'am. I'll be off, needn' fertilizer. G'day!"'
Lokath chuckles softly, calling out. "Aye, if she hires on a new gardener and the landscaping doesn't seem to improve, folk will think she's taken you on as a lover."
Willhum says, 'Thought you said you werent a prostitute, Ma'am?'
Ceallian polishes off her.. butter and sets the crock down on the mantle. She turns to Luke, patting the crumbs from her strange supper from her lips. 'Wha...'
Willhum says, 'Well, G'day!'
Ceallian says, 'What?'
Telwing mumbles that gardener and lover are about the same thing.
Ceallian hides her face in her hands, getting butter from her fingers in her hair.
Lokath glances at Ceallian and her... shiny hair, but decides not to say anything.
Ceallian decides she must be alone in the pleasantly quiet, gardener-free room. She drops her hands slowly, then squeaks as she realizes yes, Luke is still there. And so is her other new friend.
Telwing takes a large bite out of a biscuit.
Ceallian clears her throat quietly. She glances at the door as if she may make a run for it.
Lokath smiles at Ceallian. "I should go."
Ceallian blinks, startled by his expression. "Are you feeling well, sir?"
Lokath blinks. "Yes. Why?
Ceallian says, 'You are not acting like yourself.'
Lokath shrugs. "Maybe I am, and I haven't been acting like myself for the past week."
Ceallian says, 'I.. do not understand, sir.'
Lokath says, 'I've... had a bad past few weeks.'
Telwing mumbles about finding the recipe to give the chefs in Thorin's Hall. Spraying biscuit crumbs everywhere.
Ceallian says, 'Why? May I ask, or is that rude of me?'
Lokath turns away, clearing his throat into his hand. He pauses for a few moments before looking back at her. "You say you're worried about your son."
Ceallian nods very slowly. "Aye, sir."
Lokath reaches up, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "I... had to leave mine in Rohan about a week back. Just before we met, actually."
Ceallian smiles slightly. "I had heard something about that sir, and I am sorry. I did not know..." She trails off, looking to her shoes.
Telwing grabs a few veggies. She approaches the two, her cheeks full of biscuit.
Lokath shrugs.
Ceallian raises a brow to the elf with a smile.
Telwing says with her mouth full of biscuit, " I know a certain Raven who would love to have your biscuits."
Ceallian says, 'Aye? A.. bird?'
Telwing swallows the food in her mouth, "What? can't a bird enjoy nice food?
Ceallian says, 'No, lady, I am sure a bird loves a good biscuit. I have never been told as much, though.'
Lokath nods towards the door. "I'm going to go. Goodnight, both of you."
Ceallian stammers, unable to say farewell, or anything logical, for that matter.
Telwing nods and waves at Lok, holding a carrot.
Lokath blinks at Ceallian. "Are you... okay?"
Ceallian narrows her eyes. "You are a very cruel... No. What is the jest here now?"
Lokath blinks. "You think I'm joking? Pulling your leg?"
Ceallian nods hesitantly.
Lokath sighs, very, very softly. "Think that if you wish. I have a long ride home. Enjoy your evening, miss Ceallian. Sleep well.'
Ceallian presses her lips together tightly, then offers, "Perhaps not. Brem holca, sir."
Lokath nods to Telwing. "And you as well, Lady Firstborn."
Telwing takes a bite of the carrot and puts the rest away for later.
Ceallian smiles politely but is clearly mystified.
Telwing smiles back, "I'm trying to find a page or two of a couple books, harder to find then a ... something hard to find."
Ceallian laughs quietly. "Do second-born folks amuse you? They amuse me, lady."
Telwing shrugs, "Everything can amuse me if I get distracted."
Ceallian grins. "Fair enough. Stay, if you like. Since you know all of our secrets." She may be joking.
Telwing shrugs and waves dismissivly at the mention of secrets, "Keep those if you wish, they will not reach the page of a book."
Ceallian nods. "I did not think as much, lady, since you showed no signs of trying *not* to listen to them. Here, I have something for you."
Telwing perks an eyebrow, "More food? Because my pockets are full and I dare not swallow another bite."
Ceallian reaches into her pocket and fetches something, shaking her head with a shy smile. "No, it is a pin. Take it. I think you will find it most amusing. Perhaps if you hear any secrets I may like to know, you would share them sometime? Since I barely know how to read and write myself.'
Telwing looks over the pin and takes it and starts to look over it, searching it's meaning or use.
Ceallian says, 'They would be safe.' She laughs softly. "Enjoy that. Namarie."
Telwing smiles and nods slightly, "I wouldn't know the first thing about whats a secret and what isn't"